I Wanna See You Be Brave

Sometimes life requires you to be brave. No one ever promised the journey would be easy -- just that it would be worth it! We are here on earth to see what we are made of -- strength, or weakness.

Which one do you choose?

Sure, we all have weaknesses, but they can be turned into strength, with God's help -- I have seen it.  

We just have to decide the answer to this question:

Am I strong? Or am I weak?

The funny thing about discovering your courage, moxie, or bravery, is that you must be faced with fear, insecurity, and weakness. You have to experience an opposing force, in order to see how you will rise, or fall, to an occasion.

One of my favorite quotes is:

"Courage is being scared to death… and saddling up anyway."  - John Wayne

My new life has been filled with moments where I have been allowed to test my strength, and fortitude, while facing some of my greatest fears. Actually, each day I wake-up and get out of bed is an accomplishment. For me it is being on the edge of sleep in either direction -- going to bed, or waking-up -- that tests the strength of my mind and spirit the most. It is when my brain is fuzzy, and tired -- that is when fear and sorrow creeps in. (The importance of proper sleep is another blog post entirely.) Let's just say I have to be very diligent about getting enough sleep… otherwise my weaknesses might win.

Yesterday, I was allowed to jump over a hurdle of fear, and test my strength.

I went back to the hospital where I left Charles' lifeless body.

It was time for Henry's kidney ultrasound. This was the appointment we were supposed to have on April 1st, the day that Charles died -- obviously, I had to reschedule.

The imaging center we went to was in the same hospital where Charles died. I knew I would have to enter the building through the same doors that I exited the hospital, the last time I saw Charles. I was not sure how I would feel -- emotions are really unpredictable. Especially when there are obvious things that can trigger them.

So, knowing that it might be difficult to enter those doors of death again, I decided to bring a ball of sunshine with me. I brought my Sammi. It was a stroke of inspiration to bring her -- having her with me turned my night into day. You see, some people have little black rain clouds that follow them, but Sammi is like being around the warmth and brightness of the sun. I just knew I needed her to be with me.

Sammi in front of the hospital doors.

Luckily, it was a beautiful morning -- a huge contrast to the last time I had been to the hospital. (April 1st was a miserable, grey, rainy day.) The beauty of the morning certainly helped keep my brain positive, and my heart happy.

As we were driving to the hospital, we had the windows rolled-down, enjoying the day, and then the song, "Brave" came on. I cranked-up the volume. The words, "I wanna see you be brave," filled my heart with courage.  It was a very timely song. I could not help but smile at the message sent just for me. When I was in Alaska, my sister played "Brave" for me, and she said it was my song.

At that moment, a feeling of, "I got this!" came over me.

We made our way to the hospital parking lot, parked the car, put Henry in the stroller, and made our way to the once dreaded hospital doors. But my heart was not failing me. I felt fine, good even -- Sammi was with me. I was brave.

We made it to the spinning door, into the lobby, and I was still fine. We went through the motions of going here and there, on the elevator, to the appointment, and all was well. Henry did a great job at the ultrasound -- other than a little crying -- but he was a champ. I was there to comfort Henry, Sammi was there to comfort me, and Heavenly Father was there to comfort all of us!

Henry waiting for his ultrasound.

After the appointment, we were waiting for an elevator, and some automatic doors opened-up into an area that looked a little too similar to the ER -- my heart skipped a beat for a moment -- but I talked through it with Sammi. We determined it was not the ER by looking at some signs on the wall. But it sure made my heart ache for a moment -- especially because someone was wheeling an empty stretcher around, and it caused some unpleasant images, and sad thoughts, to flash into my mind. Again, in this moment, Sammi made all the difference in the world. Had I been alone, it would have been awful. Because she was there, we easily talked our way through it. It needed to be Sammi, because she is as close to the situation as me. We are in this thing together!

We made our way out of the hospital, and we stopped for a picture by the front entrance.

I did it! We did it!

I faced my fear and lived! (Thanks to Sammi!) 

I got back on the horse after falling off. But only with some help! I knew that at some point, I would have to make peace with the hospital again. I also knew I should have someone with me to ease the pain, and I was right! I will likely frequent the building many times in the future -- I cannot let it conquer me each time. I also learned that sometimes even I need help, and emotional support. I am not meant to face everything alone. No one is! 

I do not believe in avoidance when it comes to doing hard things -- I could have scheduled the appointment somewhere else. For me, going back to places that are meaningful -- even places that are difficult -- can be empowering. I am not afraid of feeling. Sometimes feeling something is better than feeling numb! I know strange emotions will come, but that is not always a bad thing. With this particular place, I knew I would need a little extra support, because the hospital is a highly-charged emotional location, even without having lost someone there.

The hospital is a building full of death and despair, where my life was changed forever. But it is also a place of hope and healing for the future. It is also a place of life and joy, it is the place where Charles and I brought Henry into the world, together. I felt all of the emotions connected to the place, but I could also feel a protective barrier around my heart.

The thing is, I live in the same house where Charles first fell to the floor, when he cried out, "I can't breathe!" I sit in the same place on the couch where he sat with his eyes uncontrollably twitching. I run the same trail that we walked together, the night before he died. I sleep in our same bed. I wear his clothes. I read his journals. And I use his razor to shave my armpits. (He doesn't seem to mind so much now.) 

I cannot avoid life and memories. They are everywhere. There is no where to run and hide. All I can do is have the courage to take life one day at a time, and face my fears daily -- choosing courage.

Choose to be brave. It is better than choosing to be weak.

God wants to see you be brave!

Me and Henry, standing in front of the hospital where Charles died. 

P.S. Henry has his follow-up appointment with the doctor, to determine where we go from here. I don't know anything new, yet.