Monitoring My Heart

Monitoring My Heart

You will always believe you’re free from fear until something crops up to try to change your mind.

This week, I was about to dish up supper when I realized the barbecue chicken legs were still bloody inside. It was already 6:05, so I quickly pan-seared them on the stove. Smoke billowed, setting off the fire alarms. My husband grabbed a kitchen chair and ran back the hall to shut them off.

He yelled as he ran, “Open the door!”

I yelled back, “I’m making supper!”

The baby screamed from her high chair.

The five-year-old covered her ears and cried.

The three-year-old tugged on my jeans and said, “My heart’s beeping.”

Switching off the burner, I set the flipper beside the stove. I reached into the junk drawer and pulled out the pulse meter my sister-in-law’s letting me borrow. I slid it onto my daughter’s finger and pushed the button. Nothing came up. I pushed again. A number disappeared before I could read it properly. I held my daughter on my lap to keep her still and tried a third time. Her heart rate had dropped to 102.

My own heart started beating again.

Three days earlier, we had taken our three-year-old for an EKG because she’s been complaining about “beeping” in her chest. The results were normal, and her heart sounded fine while the pediatrician listened to it. But an arrhythmia comes and goes, making it hard to pinpoint. That is why I have been using a meter to monitor her pulse.

This practice has reminded me of how I’ve been monitoring my own heart over the past few weeks. The truth is, life often forces us into “survival mode,” which means that we stuff unresolved issues until we have enough down time to sort them out. At this stage of my life, down time’s a rarity.

However, a few weeks ago, I was lying on the floor near a fire as a friend sang worship songs and my baby played. And there, with no supper to cook, no dishes to wash, no lunches to pack, no baths to give, emotion swelled and tears trickled from my eyes.

However, the baby soon got stuck beneath the coffee table, and I had to sit up and pull her out. Because of this, I didn’t get to fully explore why I was even crying. I still didn’t get to fully explore the reason when I got home, and I will be honest here and say that I was a hot mess for about a week.

One of my main life goals is to be genuine. What you see on the outside needs to match what I feel on the inside, or the dissonance bothers me greatly.

At the pinnacle of this heart monitoring, I had a book event in Nashville, and my author friend introduced me by saying, “Look at her! She’s always smiling like that, and she’s had a few licks!”

I inwardly cringed because my face did not match what I felt. But pain is good. Without pain, I wouldn’t know anything was wrong. After talking through everything with my husband, listening to sermons, reading the Bible, and playing more worship songs, I came to understand that a recent trigger had caused me to resurrect an old identity that I’d discarded back in Wisconsin.

My husband’s brain surgery and the uncertain season that followed made me realize life is filled with trials that can evoke fear. But that doesn’t mean we have to embrace it. God will use everything for our good and His glory if we will just surrender what is already beyond our control.

Once I understood that I have been set free from fear and have a new identity in Christ, the dissonance surrendering my unresolved pain vanished because the peace I exemplified on the outside matched the peace I felt on the inside. I could not help but smile while picturing God just as enthusiastically dropping everything the same as I do for my daughter and giving me, His cherished daughter, His undivided attention when I come and ask Him to help monitor my heart.

How do you sort your emotions? Do you talk to someone? Do you write them down or pray?