What if every child at birth was born with a tag? A round little tag, dangling off their pinky toe. The tag would arrive miraculously clean, white, easy to read. It would say “WARNING: this child's health is not guaranteed.”
You see, I like things with a guarantee, especially the 100% satisfaction/fully refundable kind. A solid promise you can stand on, jump on, pound on, get in writing....heck, get notarized.
This surgery in 41 days comes with no such guarantee. The best it comes with, is a 50/50 chance of total seizure freedom for Oliver. I am not fond of probabilities. But there it is. Black and white. Half the kids get a miracle---the other half do not.
Where does that put me? That probability...those 4 round numbers and one slash mark? On my knees, asking for Oliver to join the miracle half. The glorious, miracle half. Sweet Oliver, my Oliver...seizure free! Even as I ponder it, I exhale. A deep-soul exhale. I linger there for a moment. The idea of a seizure free child, a seizure free life. So good...but my cynical nature stops me. I realize that my hope for this surgery is fragile. And it should be. It needs to be, because what about the other half? The bisection of children that don't get the miracle they've longed for? Their group, post-surgery, still full of questions. Exhausted. Still on seizure medications. Still looking for healing. What if he belongs to that half?
I imagine I'll deal with it the way I've dealt with the past year. I'll cling to God. In a desperate I-am-a-terrified-three-year-old sort of way. I'll cry, I'll email, I'll blog. I'll be sad. Sad is ok. Sad isn't sin. Bitterness is sin. To help fight the bitterness, I will give thanks. Gratitude is the best antidote to bitterness. Over and over again I will sing praise. I'll hunt down His fingerprints.
And if that happens. If we're the other half, He'll give me the grace for that too. In the moment, when it is needed, not a moment before. He'll still be making beauty from ashes. Setting captives free. Unchanging. Good. Holy. Eternal life will still be mine, still be Andrew's, still be Oliver's. No probability can steal away this promise. That, my friends, is a guarantee. That is worth counting on. You can hammer on it. You can stand on it. It is so solid that you can build your whole life upon it.
5 comments:
Steph!!! Will you write a book? I really feel like you're experiencing a uniqueness with God that many of us never will. You are desperate, and He is able! Wow. Also, just wanted to let you know that I've used YOUR skill of 1Cor holding every thought captive. Wow, powerful stuff!
Wow! What a honest and beautiful post. Your faith is just amazing! God is good and I will continue to pray for Oliver!!
Faison Sutton
Stephanie, that was such a blessing for me to read. You express yourself so well and I am so thankful that God is able to use you through this blog in this amazingly difficult season of your life to honor HIM! Thank you for your reminders to me that our condition is not our conclusion and no matter what, He is in control!
Hey Stephanie, really like your blog about the half’s and the half’s not. You know the 50/50 thing. I also like your writing style. The only thing that caught me off was you’re your quote, bitterness is a sin. I guess I am the half that does not totally agree with that. My son died a while back and I am bitter, not to God but to grief. I hate it. I hate the way it cycles around with all the emotions. Maybe one day I will give gratitude for the grief but I don’t think so.
Thanks again for writing such an introspective insight of having a child who is whole.
Scott Newport
Found your blog through Tina, a friend of Melissa's.
I identify so much with your prayers for a miracle.
When my son (now 8) was 3 days old, we prayed for a miracle...that he wouldn't need a tracheostomy tube...but the next day he did have one put in.
You are in a better place than I was at that time. You are playing out the "what if" scenario...what if my boy isn't in the "miracle" group? I didn't do that in the moment...granted, I was in total shock (we didn't know about our boy's birth defect until he was born) and on medication from my c-section, and had all those crazy post-partum emotions going on...but in the moment, I didn't think past that prayer. A few months later, I sort of crashed spiritually from the fall-out of "why?"
With 8 years of perspective, and a positive outcome for my son, and a subsequent and healthy pregnancy/child since then, I can say that I have sorted through that fall-out. All is well.
I commend you for going into your prayers with eyes wide open and trust in God intact.
Thanks for sharing your story.
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