As part of this site, I’ll be posting some throwbacks from my old blog,taking new readers through my journey of raising an extremely premature child. Many of the below questions have been answered, but new questions have emerged. Life will always present us with questions and how we respond reflects our deepest held beliefs. I hope you’ll find the truths I discovered back then still ring true today as you read the below entry from November 2011.
Will he be able to walk? Will he be able to talk? Will he be able to learn? Hear? See? And run? These questions continue as if I’ve pressed the repeat button on the thought player that is my mind. 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 feel this way. But I do. And I really regret having to confess this.
So many of my readers 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 casually say things like, “Look how far he’s come,” and “He’s going to be just fine.” And yet, those nagging questions continue to repeatedly play in my mind. Over and over. Again and again. Never-ending.
We know how blessed we are that Pierce 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 graciously teaching me to not fear the unknown, because not fearing the unknown demonstrates your trust in Him and in His goodness. So often I 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 the Truth- 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 here’s the kicker, perhaps my definition of “what’s best” has been wrong all along? If Pierce can run, jump, laugh, and play, but he 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 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 my son would never know a day apart from Christ. That is my prayer now and always.
Dear friends, what questions reside in your heart that keep you from trusting Him?