Knowing

I like to know things. Always, I needed to know stuff. When I was little it was trivia and schoolbooks and such. When I was a young adult it was news and the Wall Street Journal and politics and such. When I was a new mother it was babies and milestones and developments and such.
Since the beginning of Tomas I needed to know. That is why I had the amnio, so I could know. I loved him since the pink plus sign showed up on the pregnancy test. It wasn't about that, it was about knowing. Whenever a new condition or diagnosis came up, I researched and knew. I wrapped my head around it, wrapped my heart around him, and held on to Jesus' cloak for the rest.
But last night while lying in bed talking with my husband it dawned on me that I don't know this time around. The doctors don't know either. FUO (Fever of Unknown Origin), that is what they are writing on their charts.You can't imagine how that grates against the very core of my spine.
And then the most annoying parable in all the Bible snuck it's way into my brain. The pruning of the vine. I've discussed this many times with a good friend, who is also being pruned, and we've both decided it stinks. Yes, it is nice to have lavish attention spent on you by the gardener, who only wants you to produce the most beautiful fruit. But gosh darn it those clippers hurt! I long ago gave over the future to God and let the worries of today suffice. But now, God is asking me to let go of the present. To not know, and to go on not knowing, and to do it graciously. And I don't want to.
I hate arguing with God, because you just KNOW you are going to lose. It hardly seems fair. But then another verse crept in, "To whom shall we go?" Where else is there to turn? Nowhere, so I can only hope that God is looking down on me with the tender, slight smile of a doting father who watches his daughter grumble her way out of the room and go and do what she was asked to do anyway.
Grumble, grumble....