Jerusha: I’m excited to introduce you to my friend, professional editor and author, Janyre Tromp! In addition to sharing her moving true story of trial and hope, she’s giving away a free historical novella filled with intrigue to anyone who subscribes to her newsletter. So read on and grab your free copy of the novella below!
By Janyre Tromp
Anyone who knows me knows I love taking pictures, putting them in albums and displaying them on my walls. Photography helps me freeze the world and make sense of it one frame at a time.
But it’s been a long while since I’ve had a moment to sort through my photographs. Two years, to be semi-precise.
And there’s good reason—in addition to some significant health issues for my mom and I, my daughter was hospitalized six times in two different hospitals as she fought for her life. That’ll do a number on you for sure.
It’s a strange feeling to flip through the photos, and watch the weeks leading up to my girl’s collapse and first hospitalization roll past, blissful in their unknowing of the impending disasters.
Four weeks before, I was at the Michigan State capital with my son’s class. Three weeks before—the State swimming championship meet with my daughter. Only a week before shows sweeping panoramas of mountains and smiling faces on Spring Break at the St. Louis zoo, then Branson, Missouri.
I see occasional dark circles under my daughter’s eyes, remember that my girl wasn’t feeling well, and yet we had no idea that her body was filling with infection, and her body trying to ward off disaster by bandaging her organs with scar tissue.
Until that day—April 9, 2018—when she collapsed on her way out to soccer practice. I have a picture of my twelve-year-old girl propped in a hospital bed, dressed in a polka-dotted gown, her hands overlapping on her belly. Pain in her face.
The next picture, my daughter asleep after 36 hours of increasing pain which morphine didn’t touch, then finally surgery. Something that was supposed to be quick turned into an 8-hour surgery. A tube inserted in her nose, a tube trailing out of her belly, three IVs, six antibiotics, and pain.
In the next picture, my husband leans over her to give her a kiss before going home to take care of our son.
And it’s there on the edges—pain. Always pain.
For my daughter, it bled through the strongest medicines they could give her. For me, watching my daughter unable to lift a hand to press the call button.
In PICU they found reason for the pain—septic Candida infection—and added an antifungal medication but no diagnosis for the cause. She returned to the hospital each month (with multiple high grade bowel obstructions, ulcers, a pre-cancerous condition) and missed her first week of eighth grade. And what followed was nearly as draining—countless blood tests, scopes, endless doctor appointments, drives across the state, panic attacks from both her and I.
It was a long road.
It still is.
And I’ll be honest. There have been days and times when I don’t see the good hand of God.
But I’m learning that doesn’t mean it isn’t there.
I’ve found a companion of sorts in the laments of the Psalms. It’s a good place to go when you’re confused, frustrated, and can’t stand the thought of one more Christian platitude.
It’s there where I can groan with David:
How long, Lord? Will you forget me forever?
How long will you hide your face from me?
How long must I wrestle with my thoughts
and day after day have sorrow in my heart?
How long will my enemy triumph over me?
And then find a way to finish with the shepherd who would be king:
But I trust in your unfailing love;
my heart rejoices in your salvation.
I will sing the Lord’s praise,
for he has been good to me.
–Psalm 13:1–2, 5–6
Like the apostle Paul, I often wish for the thorn to be removed, but still find the pain ever present.
And like Job, I don’t know the whys, but I can know the Who.
You see, regardless of how I feel at the moment, God is my King. He is our King. And He deserves my trust (even when it takes me a while to get there), my obedience (even when I don’t understand), and my loyalty (even when the consequences are terrifying).
That doesn’t mean I accomplish these things every day or even most of the time. But it does change my focus from what I can do to what He can do.
In these crazy times, as a way to remind myself of God’s trustworthiness, I’ve undertaken a study of who God is and what He has promised. If you need a reminder of those promises, here is a great resource.
Our great God is a Promise Keeper (Numbers 23:19), Who is mighty to save (Zephaniah 3:17), and the very bedrock on which we stand (Psalm 18:2).
With Him on our side, who can stand against us (Romans 8:31)?
What is your favorite promise from God? How have you seen God’s good hand in tough times? Please share!
Photos by Kendall Lane, sarandy westfall, Edgar Perez, and Selami Erdoğan on Unsplash. Original graphics designed by Jerusha Agen.
Janyre Tromp is a developmental editor by day and a traditionally published writer of kids books and full-length historical novels at night.
And that all happens from her kitchen table when she’s not hanging out with her husband, two kids, two troublesome yet adorable cats, and slightly eccentric Shetland Sheepdog.
Above all, she lives her life hunting beauty—even when it isn’t pretty.
Join Janyre at her website and on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram for book discussions, deep thoughts on life, laughs, and editing tips.
All of you can get your hands on a free read today, thanks to Janyre’s giveaway of the novella Wide Open to anyone who signs up for her newsletter! Follow this link (or click on the awesome cover image below) to get your free story!
WIDE OPEN
Seeking refuge from the 1967 blizzard at a farm, what she discovers may be anything but safety.
On her way home from visiting her grieving parents, Lily VanderMeulen is caught in the 1967 blizzard. Fortunately, she remembers that Oscar Bradbury’s farm is nearby.
When she arrives at the farm of her brother’s best friend, she feels her attraction to the complicated man rekindled.
But Oscar is more quiet and more complicated than he had ever been before. Does he know more about her brother’s death in Vietnam than he lets on?
Comments 10
One of my favorite promises from God is that He is with us. My husband wrote prayers from his perspective as a new father when our daughter was a baby. One of them was about taking her for immunizations; he said his job was not to look away from her pain during the shots. God doesn’t look away. I also love His promises about Heaven—no more tears, clear knowing, all things worked for good somehow. I love Psalms too, the way they show God’s patience with our honest questions and how we can have hope without glossing over pain. I think I could wrestle with and learn from Psalm 34 for the rest of my life. I love the idea of changing focus to who God is and of learning more about His nature and promises. I love the phrase “the good hand” too. Thanks for cleaning good from your experience and sharing it.
My pleasure, Barb. I know your journey has been anything but easy as well. Psalm 34 is a great one to wrestle with. For awhile the Psalms were the only scripture I could read and I still cling to the promises even as I question and don’t quite see the way forward. But I’m also learning that that is okay. It’s a strange place to be, but it’s okay.
Thanks so much for sharing from your heart, Janyre!
It is my pleasure, Betti. Thank you for stopping by.
Such a moving post, Janyre, thank you. What a road you’ve had to walk, and are still walking! I appreciate your encouraging words and your trust. Blessings to you, friend!
Thank you, my friend. I so appreciate you.
Thank you for sharing. I’m so sorry for what your daughter has gone through. Praying for total healing. I love that God promises never to leave me and He is always faithful.
Blessings
Thank you, Lucy! We’ll take everyone of those prayers. She’s doing well now. She has some lingering affects, one of which is a suppressed immune system. But she’s an elite swimmer and a straight-A student. She’s my walking miracle.
Thank you for sharing your journey and sharing God’s Word.
You’re welcome, and thank you for stopping by, Anne.