There are those who enjoy risk: leaps-of-faith, whitewater rafting (that's another blog entirely...) Not I. I am a familiar, routine, welcome-home sort of gal. So, when I met, fell in love with, and joined hearts with a man who was not only my polar opposite on this personality spectrum, but whose picture was found next to the definition of "adventure," I figured a bit would rub off on me. Thus, I have learned how to take last minute change of plans in stride; anticipate the unanticipated. And when my risk-taking husband and I had children (an adventure in and of itself), I resigned myself to the fact that unknowns are simply a part of existence.
Isaac came home with a fever last week after preschool. I didn't think anything of it, since there was a cold virus going around. We spent the day drinking apple juice out of blue crazy straws, and cuddling on the couch. When the weekend arrived, the promise of a busy and bouncy Isaac once again came into view. A low grade fever wasn't stopping him from playing and giggling as usual.
Then Sunday came. Enter the unknown...
I was awoken to a crying child crawling on my bedroom floor (usually, Isaac crawls into bed with me and cuddles for a few minutes--it's so much better than an alarm.) Instead of cuddling, there was confusion. "What's wrong honey?" I asked in a sleepy stupor. "My legs hurt" was Isaac's response between bouts of tears. For my tough little boy to cry and say something hurts means it really REALLY must hurt. I tried to help him stand up. He couldn't. It was like I was trying to help a baby fawn walk for the first time. Wobbly and weak, Isaac moved with me to the bathroom as I carried him under his arms.
I thought he slept funny. Thought he might have a cramp. Thought he might have pinched a nerve. But I couldn't determine for sure...and then panic set in. Why couldn't he walk on his own?
After an hour or so...after praying, researching, and prodding my little boys flimsy legs, he started walking again. The best way to describe his stiff movements would be to imagine what Pinocchio would look like as a wooden puppet. At church, I questioned friends and family about it: Have him checked as soon as possible, they said. So I did.
Monday morning, in the doctor's office, Isaac sat happily on the exam table. He had woken up with stiff joints again...which reminded me of a 90 year old man with arthritis...but he was able to walk a little better than the day before. This gave me hope that the sleepless night before had been in vain, and my Booder boy would be better sooner than later.
The prognosis was Toxic Synovitis. I had never heard of such a thing before, but I was glad we had some answers. There would be no long term danger, and Isaac would be up and around as normal in a couple of days.
As I watched my once-hobbling boy ride his scooter again, I had to be thankful for the unknown. The unknown pushes us deeper in finding answers. It gives us the fuel to continue believing in something bigger than ourselves--for with the unknown comes a need to trust...a need for faith. In my life, that faith is in God. A God who knows what I don't, and a God who challenges me to believe in Him daily, and to lean not on my own understanding. I am confident that as Isaac and I grow, our faith and trust in our Heavenly Father and "things unseen" will only give our adventure in this life that much more meaning.
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