A terrible dream

I've been hoping that I will wake up soon and find this all has been a terrible dream. 

Brian will be getting up to work at 6 am every day, and come home after a full day of work, smelling like stinky, sweaty, concrete covered man.

We'll collect a paycheck once a week that will pay the bills, and a hefty tax return once a year that will pay for all those "extras" like a couple simple camping trips, homeschool curriculum, new tires/vehicle maintenance, and whatever new gadgets we've been looking at.

Brian will complain of minor back pain from working hard 40-55 hours a week.  He won't know what it is like to have major pain all day every day.  He won't know what it is like to wish he could work, but not be able.

I will complain of all my time alone with the kids, wishing Brian could help more.  I won't know what it is like to take care of the kids AND my husband after his many surgeries.  I won't know what it is like to have to leave the house to go to school or work, knowing this was not the plan for this time in our lives.

The kids won't know what it is like to watch a Daddy in pain.  We'll go on hikes in the woods.  Long hikes, on and off trails.  I'll get to hike up that waterfall I missed out on because Hannah and Levi were too little.

We won't have to deal with Nick's mother being all greedy, thinking all of our pain and upheavel should get her something.  We will still have Nick as we always did, and complain of it not being enough time with him, never knowing what it is like to be without him for 8 months.

We won't have to take food stamps.  Or the "looks" from those who can't possibly know or understand our story.  We won't have to ask people for help with things we can do on our own.  We won't even know how good we have it.

We will be able to help other people again.  Someone's moving?  Brian will be the first one there and the last one to leave.  Someone needs help with their house or car?  Brian will be there, even after working all day long.  In fact, he will help people so much that I will get annoyed and be the nagging wife I was.

But it's not going to happen.  This isn't all a terrible dream.  This is life.  My life.  Our life. 

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Soon after the accident, Brian told me he didn't want us to come through this without God changing us, because if we just went back to life as we knew it, what would be the point of the pain?  There has to be a point.  Surely, there does.  God wouldn't just allow all of this for nothing, right?

And yet, here I sit, wishing we could go back.  Things were simpler then.  At least in hindsight.  But were they really?  Probably not.  We still had problems.  They were just not THESE problems.

If we really ask to go back to those days, I'd say we're an awful lot like the Israelites demanding to go back to Egypt after God freed them.  This is our time in the wilderness, I have no doubt.  But will it go on 40 years?  I sure hope not.  Oh how I long to see our Promised Land...