"So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal." 2 Corinthians 4:16-18
Will he be able to walk? Will he be able to talk? Will he be able to learn? Hear? See? And run? These questions run through my mind as if I pressed the repeat button on a cd player. Literally, every day, not long goes before one of these questions enters my mind. Then, what usually follows is a series of intense emotions- fear, pain, grief, sadness, anger. I find myself growing bitter towards those who have healthy children. They never have to worry about those things. They go about their day, posting casual photos on facebook... "Oh, Johnny found his toes." Great. "Johnny is rolling over." Great. "Johnny is walking." Great. Great. Great. It's SO embarrassing. Really, I shouldn't be this way. But I am. (Sigh) And I really regret having to confess this.
But what God has been doing in my heart is to incredible not to share, so I bare my soul. I'm sure many of you have been or are in the same position as me. I know so many of you reading this have children who have had less than perfect starts. Their lives have been filled with struggles and while little Johnny was finding his toes, our children were struggling to stay alive. You know what it's like to wrestle with these intense emotions. And maybe you're like me, finding yourself confused as to how to process these emotions in light of your faith.
People, usually those who have no clue what it's like to watch your child suffer, say things like, "Look how far he's come," and "He's going to be fine." And yet, those questions continue to repeatedly play. Over and over again. Again and again. Never-ending.
I know we are so blessed- Pierce eats great and as of now, has fairly minor issues. We know how blessed we are that he has overcome great odds to make it home to us. But we are also so very aware that we are still in the beginning stretch of a marathon. We have come so far, yet have so far to go. So many of the above questions will not be answered for several years. Some days it feels like we are in an airplane, circling the ground, unsure of where where we will land. Will it be hot? Cold? Bumpy? Smooth?
I guess what I'm trying to say is that the fear of the unknown can be very overwhelming.
But God is teaching me not to fear. To not fear the unknown demonstrates your trust in Him, in His goodness. I am also seeing the fact that I so often get stuck in the mindset that this world is it, so I better make it the best it can be. But that's not so. This world is not final. And because of Christ, this world is the worst that I will experience. So to fear something that is so temporary, so fleeting, reveals the disbelief in my heart.
As I've wrestled through this, I've found my questions have started to subside. They're not gone, and I don't anticipate they will ever be. But they're not as terrifying. They're less intrusive. And instead of the questions, I'm remembering that God is good, He does good and He works things for good. So whatever struggles He allows us to endure, I am trusting that He will grant us the grace to make it through. And while I definitely think that the character of God demonstrates that it is ok to want the best for your child, I also find that it shows that God loves Pierce more than I could possible imagine and He wants what is best. But perhaps my definition of "what's best" has been wrong, not in line with what Scripture teaches. If Pierce can run, jump, laugh, and play but doesn't know Christ, what good is that? (Matthew 16:26) So tonight as I tuck Pierce in, my prayer will continue to be the same that Nik and I have prayed since he was born- that God would heal his entire body- his brain, his lungs, his heart, his eyes, his bones- but more importantly, that Pierce would never know a day apart from Christ. That is my prayer now and always.
Thank you for walking this journey with us.