fear. faith. faithful.

tuesday was supposed to be a peaceful day. the girls and i were meeting up with friends for a small picnic.

we were enjoying a light lunch with watermelon and sammies and pita and hummus.

we were laughing, playing, admiring our children and appreciating the summer.

suddenly viy is on the ground. in my arms. not responding entirely. her eyes roll back. i feel her limp. shallow breathing. she is so small and helpless, crumpled here in my embrace.

i do not cry. i cannot cry. my friends are there to help in any way. i somehow talk through a 911 call. i talk to my hubby. i am approached by officers; i try to explain that my baby is going in and out of consciousness... for what seems like forever followed by an eternity. i tell cai that her sissy is fine. i tell viy that everything is fine; Jesus is with her. i see the ambulance.

my hero... so strong

i am fearful, but i hold tight to my faith. i pray to a faithful God.

i do not know how i did not break down and sob, but i know that my prayers were heard. my heart was heavy, but the beats were hollow echoing against cai's high-pitched screams. i waited for viyah to cry.

i waited for God to look, to move, to comfort.

in the ambulance, caiah prayed for her sister too. and when viyah came to, she asked to sing "oh no, You never let go / through the calm and through the storm / oh no, You never let go/every high and every low"...

at such a young age, my girls know who to call on.

the paramedics, the nurses, the physician's assistant, and the pediatrician have all been amazed by viy.
and, for what seems like the millionth time, i am amazed by a God who loves and sustains and cares.
i am amazed by His faithfulness in every situation. and i am grateful for every incredible blessing He has given me.

reminded of my faith, whether calm or through a storm, every day is peaceful.

after the hospital... enjoying a muffin, together

indoor picnic... for now!

Comments

The Most Beautiful Mama

My mama has always been beautiful. It is a beauty that is natural and effortless and is the type of beauty that filled my heart with longing when I was a child. I can recall staring at how flawless the even color of her skin was, how adorable the few freckles were on her cheeks, how symmetrical her nose was. I remember thinking how absolutely perfect she looked in a sari, her pleats folded so pristinely, and the tuck of material into her waist seamless and smooth. I would often feel the softness of my mother’s hands. Hands that had delicate fingers that moved with precision and purpose. Hands that kneaded chapati dough and even held tight to a lawn mower. No matter what she did, her hands were always soft, always welcoming, always beautiful. But she never liked to focus on her own physical beauty. My mother’s true beauty comes from within. I understood certain aspects of this inner beauty when I was a child. The beauty that comes from her servant’s heart and her work ethic -

conversations.

i find myself thinking a lot about the condition of this world, of this nation, and of the hearts of man. i just open my eyes and really look around or open my ears to truly listen, and i cannot help but face the reality of evil. the reality of corruption. the reality of prejudice. the reality of inequality. the reality of bigotry. the reality of entitlement. the reality of self-righteousness. the reality of immorality. the reality of sin. i have struggled with the presence of these realities for a significant part of my life, and maybe to some degree for all of my life. but now i struggle with them beyond my identity as a woman, or a child of immigrants, or an educator, or an indian-american, or a Christ follower. i struggle with these harsh realities as a mother. you see, we are trying our hardest to raise three people who will one day change their world. i believe that they can, and i pray that they will. these three little girls have hope in their souls and eternity i

i am left...

it was a grocery store in buffalo. and it was a church in laguna woods. and it was an elementary school in uvalde, texas. it is all the times in between and all the times before. and God please help us, it is all the times after. i am left with my mind in a jumbled mass of arguments and anger, my heart a knot of ache and pain. i am left with my soul stretching its voice to plea. i am left as i attempt to send my children off to school and myself to walk into my own classroom with my will torn to shreds... barely a thread hanging onto any purpose at all. i am left weeping before bed, sobbing on the way to work, shuddering at the thought of this happening and america continuing on like usual. i am left scrolling through pictures of beautiful humans that will never breathe again, left reading posts of those who miss the laughs of their cherished, left staring at photos of special occasions, a frozen moment that was supposed to be one in a series of many more. left searching for the

butterfly. babies. love.

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