If you read my blog regularly, you know I usually have songs running through my head all the time! I figure it's the soundtrack of my life. The songs for this part of Anna's JA Journey are the same as some in the past. Focusing on Steven Curtis Chapman; specifically his "Take Another Step" song that I've quoted before: "Take another step, and another step, when the road ahead is long, and you don't know what to do---take another step . . ."
My conversations with the Lord are constant, but last week, my conversations with Jesus were more frequent and fervent. Anna was seeing both of her doctors within two days of each other, and we had already resolved with the ophthalmologist that if there was no significant change in Anna's left eye by this week, we should make plans to see a uveitis specialist. Anna had shared with me (at length as we drove home from an appointment two weeks ago) her concerns about the vision issues in her left eye. The ophthalmologist had already explained his conclusions for why she's having the vision issues (she described them in detail to him at one appointment). His thinking is that once the inflammation goes away and she no longer needs the dilating drop, her vision should clear up again. I think Anna is getting tired of waiting for that to happen, and two weeks ago, the inflammation had decreased (at the appointment on Friday, it went back up to 1+), but her vision had not improved. More frequent and fervent talks with Jesus (on my part, and I think on Anna's part, as well.)
So this week has been a turning point week---when we decide which steps to take in our journey. Over the past few weeks, we were presented with two different options for a specialist to see. My talks with Jesus involved entreaties for wisdom! I once heard that to intentionally follow God's will often means doing the next wise thing (when He doesn't send down an e-mail from heaven, as I often long for Him to do!). So while Anna was receiving her Remicade infusion on Friday afternoon, I began to make phone calls. The wisest choice seemed to be the specialist in Philadelphia. (The trip would be shorter, and cheaper, and the specialist is nationally known, and recommended by the pediatric rheumatologist. We're familiar with the Wills Eye Institute, since my mom was treated there for ocular melanoma years ago.)
What seemed to be the wisest choice ended up being a closed door. (I like closed doors sometimes---then it's easier to turn away and go to the other open door, instead of agonizing over the choice between the two.) To get an appointment with the doctor in Philly meant a six-month wait (unless the doctor deemed otherwise, but he's away for two weeks). Six months?!?! Anna has had chronic uveitis (usually at 1+ inflammation or more) for the past 8+ months. I don't want to wait another six months for some answers. So I called Dr. Foster's office in Boston. They could have made an appointment for September, but we decided on October instead, since Anna has a few days off school in the middle of the month.
Since we have to be on this journey, at least we can have
some adventures along the way. I like Boston! Anna doesn't remember our visit there in the summer of 2001---she was too young. So she is eager to go again (and pinning some tips and places on Pinterest!) I like to fly---and we're choosing to fly up and use public transportation (which we like to do in big cities.)
There's an older song that often flits through my head at various times. I can't remember the artist, but it says, "For such a time as this, I am placed upon the earth, to hear the voice of God and do His will . . . " I have no idea why we are on this journey or why we now need to go to Boston to see a specialist. But I DO know that Jesus loves us beyond measure, and that He makes all things work together for good (maybe not right this minute, but eventually---God's time is not our time. His ways are not our ways, His thoughts are not our thoughts---but He LOVES us). So whatever the purpose--whatever the plan, we continue to take another step, and another step . . .