My youngest sister was born with some brain damage, thus rendering her educationally and developmentally disabled. Over the years, we also discovered different life skills she would never have, such as driving a car or living on her own independently. She went through school, completed a certificate program through a local tech school, and even kept a couple jobs. Our family coped, compensated, compromised and sometimes coddled our way through the last thirty years.
Treya was diagnosed with schizophrenia at age 22, and it came out of nowhere. One day, she just wasn't the same anymore, and it scared us almost to death. We were afraid it would actually kill her at one point. Since that time, her health has been a constant thought in my mind, predominantly because if something happens to mom and dad, she chose me as primary guardian. I'm up first.
I'm listening to my little sister, who we always called Midget, fight for her life every night. Since her diagnosis, Treya gained about 60 pounds. She was already a snorer, but now her weight, steroid-laden antipsychotic meds, and lack of really good, healthy sleep results in a lack of energy throughout the day and no desire to work toward a smaller weight. I listen, and I get concerned because when the noise stops, I stop and wait... will she breathe again? Her breaths are shallow and short, and I wonder... is that any better?
I'm on vacation from my everyday life - seminary classes, work, and learning to like Dallas, TX. I'm with my family in a timeshare condo sitting on a fold out sectional, listening to my little sister sleep, propped on pillows with a breathe right strip on her nose. I'm introspective, nervous, prayerful, wishful, upset, alone, and alert... hoping the noise doesn't stop, but wanting some relief.
I can make suggestions while I'm here, and I can try to walk with her while I have the time, but the truth is I go back to Dallas in a few days a little fearful and still wondering.
It's starting to get lighter outside, and Wednesday has already begun for some people. The rest of the family will stir in a couple hours, and I'll pray for enough focus to complete the homework for my online summer class. I'll laugh and smile, play with my niece and nephew, enjoy some time with my longest friend, and thank God it's only Wednesday. My oldest sister will arrive tonight, and she and I will share the downstairs with Treya.
And I'll get a couple REM cycles in and then listen, praying for the noise to continue and for the strength to be there when it's my turn again.
I love my sister. She laughs at all my dad's jokes, smiles at almost everyone at church, and constantly asks how you're doing. Her name is derivative of Estrella, which means star. She can light up a room, but don't think she won't burn red hot either! She loves music and all things Disney, and she's the baby - sometimes too much. We all love her and would die for her, but in the midst of all this, I have to remember one thing: I AM.
I AM is my sister's keeper. There is hope found in the arms of I AM because of all that he is. He is the healer, and he is Treya's refuge. She trusts the Lord, I believe, and desires to know him more. In light of that relationship, I AM is my refuge, too. I have to believe, in spite of my fear and concern, that God knows exactly what is necessary for Treya to be all he created her to be. He knows my part in her story, and he knows her part in his story.
Yeah, I'm nervous, especially because I have to acknowledge my parents are getting older. I'm a little scared because I'm carrying school debt and will be for some time, so what if she needs me sooner over later? Even more, what if something happens to me first?
Yet, as Chris Tomlin wrote, "Be still, there is a healer...", "I lift my hands to believe again", and "you are faithful, God, forever". All these sentiments need to be a mantra for me, and my prayer is for that to happen. Fear, worry, and concern bombard in the darkness, but the morning always brings new hope and mercy. So, good morning, Wednesday.
No comments:
Post a Comment