Seeing the Other Side of Hard in a Cup of Cranberry Juice
Last week looked fairly ordinary for our family, so ordinary
that I almost completely missed the extraordinary when my daughter drank a cup
of cranberry juice.
Sometimes we just
can’t see the other side of our hard. But when she drank that cup, I saw it.
My Daughter and Food Protein-Induced Enterocolitis Syndrome
Like many moms, I carefully introduced solid foods to each
of my children at the end of their first year. Unlike her older brothers, my
daughter’s skin reacted to particular foods. If she stopped eating them, her
skin cleared. If I offered one of them again a couple days later, a new rash appeared. If
she continued to eat them, she experienced GI symptoms.
A few months after her first birthday, my daughter was diagnosed with Food Protein-Induced Enterocolitis Syndrome (FPIES), a non-IgE mediated immune reaction in
the gastrointestinal system. While she wasn’t going to have an anaphylactic reaction,
she could still get very sick from eating certain foods. After careful
observation, doctors identified four FPIES triggers for my daughter—cow’s milk,
corn, strawberries, and cranberries.
For the next several years, I bought and prepared foods with
alternative ingredients. I read labels carefully. I brought my daughter her own
snacks everywhere we went. I studied weight gain and growth charts. I scheduled
appointments and traveled to the allergy specialist.
And then, one at a time, under medical supervision, I
re-introduced foods. There were food trials at the hospital and food trials at
home. There were failed food trials and more waiting. Finally, my daughter tolerated
dairy, corn, and strawberries. We celebrated each new food as it was added. She
drank her first milkshake, savored her first popcorn, and ate strawberries to
her heart’s content.
This Is about God’s
Faithfulness
So when my daughter drank increasing amounts of cranberry
juice—up to a cup—this past week without symptoms, this particular food trial felt
a little bit like an afterthought. You don’t really need to be able to eat
cranberries, and my daughter could live without them if she had to. But this was
really about something so much bigger than a bead-sized berry that gets a
little extra attention near Thanksgiving.
I remember all those trips to Children’s Hospital, sitting
and talking with other families in the waiting room, listening to other
children struggle through their food trials, and seeing my resilient daughter
coloring pictures and playing while she waited for a nurse to bring her the
next dose of food.
I hear the doctors who painstakingly explained this
less-understood form of food allergy.
I think of the surprises I packed to entertain my daughter during
those appointments.
I cry as I picture myself pushing the cart through the
grocery store and buying my daughter’s favorite flavors and brands of
alternative yogurt cups and ice cream, the ones that cost twice as much or more
than the dairy versions.
I don’t cry because of how much they cost. I cry because I
can still see her smile at her treats, when she didn’t know anything different.
Most of all I recognize God’s faithfulness through something
that was really hard for me as a parent. He was faithful through the trial, and
now he’s being kind in removing it.
As I listened to the guided instructions and navigated my
way, once again, through the options to leave a phone message for the allergy doctor
on Friday, it clicked. I marked the moment and told myself not to miss what
was happening.
This could really be the end of food allergies for my
daughter. Thank you, God.
Seeing the Other Side of Hard
For me, a glass-is-half-empty kind of girl, it’s good to
slow down, remember, see, and say thank you. I’m embarrassed to admit how close I
was to missing this, how in my haste to run and do the next thing on my list, I nearly checked off another box without pausing to say thank
you.
Your thank you could be the last food trial or the last tantrum. It could be the first sentence after a speech delay or a child who finally sleeps through the night.
Isn’t it interesting that we invest so much attention, concern, energy, and effort in helping a child; we spend our selves, our time, and our money; we devote hours to observation and prayer, questions and doctors, appointments and trials; and then in a split second, or a brief phone call, we can find ourselves on the other side of hard?
I don't know what your hard reality is today. It could be a teenager who won’t talk to you. From where you stand, you
might not see the other side of a family crisis. I can’t promise you it will tie up as neatly as you’d
like. You might land in a different place than you’d prefer.
I could very quickly write a list of concerns that continue
to weigh on my heart and that I can’t see the other side of either. I could list some
of my daughter’s other medical history, and you might think I was making it up.
I could tell you about one of her older brothers who has celiac disease, can’t eat
gluten, and won’t grow out of it.
But here’s where I land today. For followers of Jesus, “…this
slight momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory
beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the
things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the
things that are unseen are eternal” (2 Corinthians 4:17-18).
Do you know what’s truly extraordinary? Our affliction is slight and momentary, and it’s preparing an eternal weight
of glory beyond all comparison, something too breathtaking for us to grasp.
Yes, despite its present intensity...even though it may feel like it will last forever...whether in this life or the next...
Yes, despite its present intensity...even though it may feel like it will last forever...whether in this life or the next...
You might also enjoy:
Hope in the Midst of Your Hard Reality
Going Gluten-Free Was Epic for Our Son.
Read more of Katie's words at Loving My Children on Facebook and at https://www.instagram.com/katietfaris.
To learn more about her book, Loving My Children, click here.
Email Katie at lovingmychildrenbook@gmail.com.