It's okay, but get a grip

I'm big on counting my blessings. I consider myself to be one of those people that sees the silver lining (though I'm sure my husband would tend to disagree as he gets to hear ALL the whining and complaining that spills forth from me).

So, for example, as I've said many, many times before, I am so thankful that Olivia's condition is not as bad as I know it could be. She will walk one day, I have no doubt. And she has had a milestone-kind-of-week.

Talking (ball, duck, one).
Sitting up.
Crawling.

So why is it that there is this one minuscule thought that is fighting for my attention over these amazing events? Jeanine mentioned last night that Olivia would probably not have to wear AFO's forever. Instead, she would have some sort of shoe insert to wear to support her ankle. Maybe I misunderstood her, but it sounded like she meant that Olivia would always have to wear some sort of device on her feet. And my heart sank. I didn't ask anymore questions, mainly because I knew I was getting ready to cry. I know that Jeanine doesn't know exactly what the future holds for Olivia, just as I don't. But, no kidding, I almost couldn't catch my breath in that moment.

That's crazy, right? Get a grip, Donna. COUNT YOUR BLESSINGS. His grace is sufficient.

Too bad. My heart still sank. And that's okay. Because for me, in my life, in this moment, we have a daughter who is not walking at the age of two. And my sister has this inexplicable paralysis of half her face that requires her to tape her eye shut at night. And it just plain sucks.

And WE KNOW that there are worse things in the world. And we WON'T drown in self-pity. But, we will allow ourselves to feel pain and discouragement and heartache, despite the fact that there are others in this world who have it so much worse.

I guess sometimes I just have to remind myself that it is okay to feel this way. I have permission to cry over something that is seemingly insignificant. As long as I eventually get a grip.

I truly believe that God is with me through it all. He understands my pain, and He comforts me. He helps me get a grip.