We have certainly been the best kind of busy around here! With the T-shirt drive in full swing, and finally getting to move into our new house, it feels like we are finally moving forward. With all of that moving-forward joy, I am also experiencing this deep sense of dread…and peace. If I have learned anything over the past 4 years, it’s that completely polar opposite feelings can coexist at once.

I’ve always called Easter “jelly bean season,” and am always the first to stock up on the little happy rainbow balls of sugar. The aisles at every store are packed full of Easter decorations now, and all I can feel when I see them is rage. Sunley’s surgery is scheduled for the Tuesday after Easter, so that is our benchmark. I’m surprised to feel so angry that anyone could be buying jelly beans and bunny decorations when my baby is about to go through this again. I hate the feeling of walking through the store and knowing that no one there knows what’s happening. And likewise, I wonder what everyone around me is carrying themselves. I’m watching the milk expiration dates inch closer and closer to April 19th, and it makes me nauseous. In all of that bitterness and anger and frustration, also coexists inexplicable peace. And we all know where that comes from. And I am not the first one to feel this kind of peace.

I’ve been thinking so much about Abraham taking his son, Isaac, up the mountain. I’ve heard so many sermons about what must have been going through Abraham’s head — how he may have barely slept the night before, etc. I think he probably just had big conflicting emotions, and chose to follow the torch of peace instead of worry. I’m not comparing my daughter getting life-saving open heart surgery to Abraham being told to kill his own kid. But there are probably some similar dreadful emotions that come out of both scenarios.

When I was pregnant with Sunley, I spent so many nights tearfully begging God, “Please don’t make me do this.” After it became clear that I did, in fact, have to do this, He came through. God brought us peace, support, life-long heart friends, an incredible team of advocates in white coats and scrubs, and SO many moments of revealing His presence in incredibly tangible ways. I am feeling those same emotions again. Please don’t make me do this. But just like Abraham, we are walking up the mountain anyway — Even when my Sunley Summit begs not to walk the mountain, and even when I am disgusted at the brokenness of the world — We are walking up the mountain, because we know the Creator of the hills and valleys.

The Old Testament has some really confusing stories, and this has always been one for me. And while I don’t understand everything about every passage in the Bible, and never will, I know that each story teaches me a bit about the unchanging character of God. He asked Abraham to do something awful. And then He made a way. He always does. I don’t know what Abraham did the night before he walked the mountain. But maybe he was able to check on Isaac in the middle of the night, and then went on to have a peaceful sleep himself because He knew the character of God, and Abraham knew that God would provide. And just like Abraham, even though we have no guarantees of endless tomorrows with our daughter, I am able to tuck Sunley in at night, kiss her goodnight just as I do my healthy kids, and know that in the morning, GOD WILL PROVIDE.

And so, here we go again, trying to help our Sunley “summit” another one, and we are dreading it and bitter and angry and confused — But overshadowing all of those emotions is the absolute trust that God will make a way. And the peace that comes with that is absolutely magnificent. To finally feel what it means to have joy in suffering is a gift I wouldn’t trade for all the jelly beans in the world.

PS- Check out our T-shirt drive, and sing up to host a lemonade stand to support our new nonprofit, Write With Light Project!