My feeling completely out of control is only compounded by the importance of the situation I find myself in. It's one thing to not understand what the cashier says to you at the grocery store, but to watch a doctor in a medical system that you don't understand hurriedly mumble and point at things in a fuzzy picture that you don't understand, and all of this in a language that you don't understand, is a lot more stressful. Sometimes my stomach hurts because of it all.
Right before Christmas Valérie had to go to the emergency room for something about the baby. Here is part of a journal entry I wrote while waiting for her: "Right now I can only find comfort in God Himself. In His love, His sovereignty, His character. I know the God who created the universe, in all his power and majesty, yet here my only resort is begging. I've got no eloquent prayers or reasons why He should be merciful; just begging. 'Please, God. Please.' It's my heart's cry."
It's stressful, and I imagine that won't ever change, no matter where I live, but I'm thankful that it all points to something bigger than myself, and that it's all heading somewhere. I trust Him. We humans are a hopeless cause in ourselves, but in Him we have everything. And that's enough.