A few days ago I asked for prayers via twitter for the parents of a little girl who was Caden's neighbor in the CICU. She was born the day after Caden, and Adam and I had frequently exchanged sympathetic looks with her parents as we came and left our babies' bedsides. Finally we chatted with this sweet baby girl's dad. We learned her story and told him we would be praying for his little girl. We felt such a kinship with these parents, knowing how much their own hearts were hurting to see their baby's heart hurting.
The next day, they had to say good bye to their little girl.
Walking in and seeing that empty room next to Caden really shook me up. My heart ached for her parents, and I could hardly fathom what they were going through in that moment. I was fully aware of how blessed we were that God had answered our prayers for Caden to make it through surgery. And yet I couldn't help but put myself in their shoes. I looked at that sweet little girl's empty bed and thought "what if my son's bed is empty tomorrow"?
That's the kind of thing as a parent you never even want to think about, let alone utter out loud, or put down in writing.
But I had to go there this time. Not that I don't believe that God can (and will!) heal Caden's little heart. But for my own faith, and to continue along this process, I had to ask myself: what if He doesn't?
Oh my word, but that question is not easily answered. I have spent the last two weeks wrestling over it. And then yesterday I was reading in Romans 4 and came across this verse: "Against all hope, Abraham in hope believed and so became the father of many nations, just as it had been said to him, “So shall your offspring be.” Without weakening in his faith, he faced the fact that his body was as good as dead—since he was about a hundred years old—and that Sarah’s womb was also dead. Yet he did not waver through unbelief regarding the promise of God, but was strengthened in his faith and gave glory to God, being fully persuaded that God had power to do what he had promised."
I thought about Abraham having to put Isaac up on the altar. To offer him to the Lord, despite the fact that it was not only painful, but made no sense, and defied everything he thought God was promising him. . . And I realized something in that moment. Even if God doesn't heal Caden's heart, He is still good. He is still faithful. He is still with us. He is still deserving of glory. And even when things don't make sense, even when my heart cries out in fear and anguish over my circumstances, God is still good.
Like Abraham, even when things seem dark and hard and scary, even when things seem completely hopeless, we choose to believe in hope. Because the truth is that Caden belongs to a faithful God who knows and loves him more fully and deeply than Adam and I ever could. So we will entrust Caden into his arms. Today and every day, no matter how many days we are blessed to call him ours.
The next day, they had to say good bye to their little girl.
Walking in and seeing that empty room next to Caden really shook me up. My heart ached for her parents, and I could hardly fathom what they were going through in that moment. I was fully aware of how blessed we were that God had answered our prayers for Caden to make it through surgery. And yet I couldn't help but put myself in their shoes. I looked at that sweet little girl's empty bed and thought "what if my son's bed is empty tomorrow"?
That's the kind of thing as a parent you never even want to think about, let alone utter out loud, or put down in writing.
But I had to go there this time. Not that I don't believe that God can (and will!) heal Caden's little heart. But for my own faith, and to continue along this process, I had to ask myself: what if He doesn't?
Oh my word, but that question is not easily answered. I have spent the last two weeks wrestling over it. And then yesterday I was reading in Romans 4 and came across this verse: "Against all hope, Abraham in hope believed and so became the father of many nations, just as it had been said to him, “So shall your offspring be.” Without weakening in his faith, he faced the fact that his body was as good as dead—since he was about a hundred years old—and that Sarah’s womb was also dead. Yet he did not waver through unbelief regarding the promise of God, but was strengthened in his faith and gave glory to God, being fully persuaded that God had power to do what he had promised."
I thought about Abraham having to put Isaac up on the altar. To offer him to the Lord, despite the fact that it was not only painful, but made no sense, and defied everything he thought God was promising him. . . And I realized something in that moment. Even if God doesn't heal Caden's heart, He is still good. He is still faithful. He is still with us. He is still deserving of glory. And even when things don't make sense, even when my heart cries out in fear and anguish over my circumstances, God is still good.
Like Abraham, even when things seem dark and hard and scary, even when things seem completely hopeless, we choose to believe in hope. Because the truth is that Caden belongs to a faithful God who knows and loves him more fully and deeply than Adam and I ever could. So we will entrust Caden into his arms. Today and every day, no matter how many days we are blessed to call him ours.