Crazy Little Thing Called Trust

Earlier this week, after much procrastination, Hannah finally went to have the long-awaited CT scan done of her ears. Due to her relatively newly diagnosed hearing loss, the ENT wanted the scan to rule out any other unknowns regarding her ears.

So, she and I trekked down into the bowels of our medical clinic where all of the clicking and whirring imaging machines are located. Much of our conversation walking in consisted of me trying to reassure her that a) this wouldn't hurt, b) it would be over quickly and c) it really wasn't all that different from the panoramic dental x-rays she had taken several months prior. As we sat in the intake room, where with a smile she easily responded to the nurse's questions, she was clearly relaxed and calm.

Then, as a second nurse appeared, we headed for the actual CT room. Being a mom, I (of course) followed her right into the slightly dark room featuring at its center a narrow white bed perpendicular to an oversized metal donut. Hannah hopped right up onto that little bed, as the kind nurse requested, while I stood with our belongings near the door. Now finished, the nurse headed in my direction, "You know, this is a very high radiation exam. I need you to wait outside the door." With my heart making its way for my throat, I glanced at Hannah. "Okay, I responded," with my hand on the door handle, "but if she asks for me at all--come and get me." And I walked out. The rest of the exam went as expected--if "expected" includes a grown woman glued to the outside of the exam room door--and we said our good byes and headed for home.

While we walked out, Hannah said to me matter-of-factly, "I was looking for you, but I didn't see you. I was a little bit scared when it started."

Ouch.

With a million apologies rushing through my head, and feeling like the winner in the Most Disappointing Mother category, I realized she was still speaking. "I was scared a little bit, but I remembered what you said. And then I wasn't scared anymore."

Suddenly, my daughter's simple act of trust spoke to me. Very loudly. Her ability to trust me came from the relationship we've worked so hard to form over the past 14 months and my words of reassurance to her. And in that time, she has been able to put aside all sorts of fears and doubts and be more courageous than either she or I might have ever believed because of it. Which begs the question--What about me?

It's been a lot longer than 14 months that I've been forging a relationship with my Father and His words of reassurance are spoken to me daily through His Word. Why then--is it so difficult for me to "have faith as a little child?"

To trust when I am scared?

To be brave when I can't see Him in the darkened room?

To know that His words are there to cast out my fears and doubts?

Next time I'm drowning in my own panic swamp, I'm going to remember the example my daughter has given me. That although the journey my Heavenly Father takes me on may be frightening if I try to go it alone, He is always there, standing right outside my door, waiting to come in if I call Him.

***Edited to add that Hannah's ears checked out perfectly fine! Praise God! Thank you all for caring so much about my little family. We are so blessed to be surrounded by such love and kindness.***