Learning to Lose


“…he that loseth his life for My sake shall find it.”  Matt. 10:39

It goes against every part of our nature, the idea of letting go.  We are like the tight fisted two-year-old, our hands are grasping, our fingers clenched, the very idea of releasing that thing that we so desire, is completely foreign to us.  I know this, and so does HE.  And yet He whispers, softly to let Him have control.

My profession is wedding photography.  I love many aspects of it.  I am blessed.  One of my favorite moments of every wedding is when the bride’s parents see her for the first time.  The sheer emotion of seeing their daughter as the bride, is a beauty to behold.   The moment has come.  This is the moment that they give her away.  They knew it was coming, and the pride is evident, and it is deserved.  Their little girl, who is standing before them, is radiant.  Words are scarce, all is spoken between them in looks.  The last year and a half, I would hide behind my camera as unwanted tears would slip down my cheeks in these moments.  I would think, “I hope they know how lucky they are!  I would give my whole world to have this moment with Lydia someday.”

We didn’t share it with many people.  The pain was too great.  In fact, we could hardly bear to speak about it between the two of us.  It hurt just to breathe.  After the dr. diagnosed her with eptihelial downgrowth, his prognosis was completely grim.  It is the only time I have cried in his presence, but I shook with sobs, and literally begged him to tell me this wasn’t as bad as it sounded.  He gently shook his head, and apologized, but assured me that it truly was that bad.  However, there was an experimental drug, not FDA approved.  He expected we would need to make a decision if we would like to use it within the next couple of weeks.  The drug would, most likely affect her fertility.  Even just speaking of it now, causes my heart to race, and tears to well.  If we choose not to proceed, the downgrowth would not only cause her complete loss of vision, but it would deform her eyes, and they would have to be removed.  Bile rose in the back of my throat hearing his words, and it took every last effort of mine to refuse to be sick in his presence.

It was a very, very difficult time for me, for us as a couple, for us as a family.  I was suddenly jealous of all new parents.  Bitter thoughts threatened to overtake me, as yet another perfect, baby entered the world.  Watching a newly made grandparent nearly left me undone.  Would Justin and I ever enjoy that moment with Lydia?  Would she ever forgive us if we choose the drug, and took that option away from her?  And worse yet, would I ever be able to forgive myself?  I didn’t know the answers to any of those questions.

Entitlement is a dangerous path.  It corrupts your thinking.  It threatened to ruin mine.  Feeling sorry for yourself becomes more attractive than taking every thought into capitivity.  Measuring my thoughts up to His truth, I stood wanting.

Somehow, in my moments of loosing my grip, He Who is my Redeemer, taught me anew of redemption.  Even the worst moments of life can be won over.  In the hands of the Potter, He can create a masterpiece of that which seems ruined.  He is not finished, He’s still working, still redeeming, still molding.  And I, am still learning.  I am learning that I have a new love for all things broken.  I am learning that often those that seem most unlovely, are filled with hidden treasures.  I am learning that when the story is in the hands of the Author, He changes the ending – and it is always beautiful, because that’s what He does.  He makes all things beautiful, in His time.

I can’t understand why God has blessed us so much.  His love for me, overwhelms me.  He blessed me, he blessed us with the gift of glaucoma.  He gave us the gift of seeing.  Our world is such a different place, such a better place, such a prettier place because of this gift.

And today, I find myself thankful.


About bindmywanderingheart

I am a child of God, wife of Justin for 12 years, and mom of 4 incredible kiddos. Our daughter, Lydia has congenital glaucoma and fibrovascular downgrowth. Join us on our journey as we fight the darkness of Lydia's eyes, and of this world.

One response »

  1. Hi there… you don’t know me, but I would love to follow your story. I too, have 3 boys and then a precious baby girl… born with Down Syndrome. So I can relate to your struggle to accept what God has gifted us with! My husband and I have talked extensively about adopting as well… which is why your story is so inspiring to me! We may be following in your footsteps in the future!

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