March 25, 2006

• Lorena's sister Martha called today from California.  She had just gotten off the phone with her familiy, Lorena included, there in Tepic, and was making contact with us to let us know that Papá's situation once again is very grave and to let us know that they are concerned what to do about Lorena when he dies.  I really don't know what to do.  The care there has been phenomenal although I owe a huge bill (many tens of thousands of dollars now) for her care.  If I brought her back to the States, the good news is that we would at least get some help with our finances through Medicaid, but we could not care for her here at home, we could not afford personal, private care as she is receiving there in Mexico, and, since nursing homes tend to be understaffed and Lorena cannot ask for help when she needs it, I fear that she would go downhill rapidly as she did before, or we and our friends would destroy ourselves (as we tried to do before) caring for her there.  Just start calling me D. Lemma, I guess.  I know that God won't give us more than we can handle, but I sure wish he didn't have so much faith in me -- and my handle is getting very, very short...

  
  

  These girls are so phenomenal dealing with this, though.  I am amazed by their resiliency and their faith.  She is going to start talking any day.  She is going to get well.  She is going to come back this summer.  She is going to resume her life with us just as it was before.  She is going to be she same beautiful, wonderful, HEALTHY Lorena that she was.  They dream about her almost nightly in the future as she was in the past -- and they are incredibly excited when they narrate the dreams to me the next morning.  Lya, especially, keeps wanting to make plans for Mommy's return this summer because Lorena said that she will be back here, and if Mommy says something...  I have faith that she will return, and I pray desperately for that, but my faith pales in comparison with Lya's, and I am humbled by her innocence and unquestioning faith that God will provide and that Mommy will be restored.

  
  

  I, on the other hand, hang my head in shame and identify distressingly with Peter.  I trust you, Lord, and I have faith.  I KNOW that You have everything under control and that all of this is part of an incredibly wonderful plan.  With Your guidance, I have already walked on waters that I thought were impassable.  But, God, this storm is so vicious, and I am so tired.  These waves are threatening to engulf everything I hold dear, and all I have worked for, along with all me dreams and plans, are seemingly being washed away.  Suddenly, I feel myself sinking into the maelstrom, only capable of begging desperately, "Save me, Lord."  Just as Peter, I am chagrined to realize how little faith I have (as Lya pats me on the back and says, "It's okay, Daddy.  Everything will be all right.  God will take care of us.")  I now have no doubt that my genealogical antecedant is none other Thomas the Apostle.... 

  
  

  We will call Lorena tonight.  Hopefully, I will get some reassurance from her, and, even more importantly, it is imperative that I reassure her.  Her speech therapist, by the way, is telling the family that she expects Lorena to start talking again at any time.  [She had begun talking again in November 2004 after her tracheotomy was closed, but by the time we arrived for Christmas, she had regressed and was mute once more.  If she would start talking once again, all of you, wherever you are in the world, would hear my shouts of joy.]

  
  

  Anyway, her miracle continues.  To God be the glory.  May He bless her, our girls, and all of you.  And may he forgive me my weaknesses.  Love those families with all your might.

  • 6:46 pm
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