Out of the Swamp

Pseudomonas aeruginosa is a thick layer of bacteria that grows on still water. It sets up camp and colonizes, sucking the vitality from its host environment. Most people are able to encounter this microscopic predator without much trouble, but it can prove deadly for those with cystic fibrosis.

I have been a body of still water for four years now. And the situation has become toxic.

Back in January 2020, three months into pregnancy, my husband and I received the call that would change us forever—we were having a girl, and she would suffer from a rare progressive disease with no cure. Just as the pandemic hit, losses mounted quickly: first the dream of normal motherhood, then connection and community, then sleep, then a sense of self, then my grip on truth. Every true and beautiful thought disappeared into a shame-ridden echo chamber. Emotions turned from shades of pastel to a deep, churning black. My soul hunkered down and shriveled up while my poor body bore the stress of it all. Even now, sweet Pip and I spend months on end at home (except for her many medical appointments), away from germs. This is how I’ve been. 2020 never ended for me.

What’s interesting/horrific about pseudomonas aeruginosa is that it is naturally resistant to antibiotics. As advanced as the latest medical options are, our drugs can’t touch it without potentially causing significant damage. 

And, oh, how I have tried stirring up my own water and curing my own problem. Retreats! Counseling! Online classes! Books! Doctor visits! Habit trackers! I threw my best efforts at demolishing this particular issue, only to find human means inadequate. The infection had set in; desperation turned to hopelessness as each attempt fell short.

Okay, whispered my exhausted self into the void, then what? 

Then, maybe, whispered back a new—but ancient—Voice, lift up your eyes. You are not your solution. I am.

As it turns out, those final two words have a way of shattering darkness.

And everything that has languished in stagnant shadows erupts into light. 

Thus begins a season of purification. God is stirring the waters, hovering over them as He did back when they were new. I’m eager for Him to move and make me new so that I become a spring of life instead of a fatal bog. And even that is dreaming too small. According to Jesus in John 7:38,

Whoever believes in Me, as the Scripture has said, ‘Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.’

I love (and am infuriated by) the fact that He doesn’t opt to just start over with a sparkling clean body of water. Poof! Wouldn’t that be lovely? Long recovery, not a flawless history, is His agenda. The part of me that yearns for perfection will have to wait; heaven is coming, and it will be glorious. Until then, home is here, in the mud, with a God who loves to dig deep rivers in the unlikeliest of places.