I have asked God why. I have sat before Him many hours, waiting for a solution. I have wept many nights for your pain. I have begged for you to grow up healthy and strong. To be able to ride your tricycle, learn to write your name, get into mischief, and play make believe. I have pled for restful nights for you, for days free of pain. Your hurt is our hurt, your wounds afflict us all. And we sit beside you, holding your hand, knowing that is the best thing we can do...feeling helpless that we cannot do more. Oh that a kiss would take it all away! We would smother you with kisses until every blister was gone. If a song could heal you, I would sing through the hours until my voice became hoarse. But that is not how this works.
I hold you close and think long and hard about the role of God's hand in our lives. You know, dear one, that He knit you together in your mother's womb? Yes, his hands of omnipotent grace have molded you since the night of your conception. He is perfect, and His ways are perfect. He cannot make mistakes. This, too, He will use for His glory. And oh, think of the promise! "For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time ARE NOT WORTHY TO BE COMPARED to the glory that will be reveled in us." Momentary affliction, little one. This world is not your home, and every moment you must understand this to be true. One day, your pain will be gone, and your strength restored. One day you will be made perfect. One day you will be free.
But for now we wait. How painful it is to watch those you love most weather a storm like this! I stroke your head and whisper every piece of wisdom and mischief Aunt Brookie would have taught you. How cunning are your eyes, with them you seem to communicate better than I ever have. You listen intently and seem to soberly consider such thoughts. But they are just that. Thoughts. Nothing more.
Hush my little one, hush. Think no more of doctors and surgeries and medicines and tubes. Think on pleasant things: whip cream, sunlight, and the feel of fleece on your cheek. Though sorrow may last for the night, joy comes in the morning. There is a season for everything. Look! Can you see? a sliver of light is breaking, the storm will soon be over. And you will reach the haven where sorrows are no more. Look up, be not discouraged! Trust on, whatever befall! Remember, oh remember! Thy Savior knows it all...
Can you feel it, little one? His hands hold you, close, just as you love to be held. Feel how He lifts you! Not a stab of pain. Sense how He loves you, more complete than we ever could. O, we do not want to lose you, but how sweet your inheritance that waits! We would not keep you from such wonders, from eternity and its rest. He waits for you with open arms...may you run into them unabashed and healed. May such a day come soon.
My nephew, you are brave and beautiful. I thank the Lord for the wonders he has performed through your condition, and for the undying affection He's given us for you. I know that He who has performed a good work in you will carry it out unto completion until the day of Christ Jesus. The day when He will rejoice over you with singing and quiet you with His love.
May His peace be with your spirit. May His mercies flood each morning and His faithfulness pervade the night.
Sleep well, dear one. Sleep well.
And may dawn, with its promise, break through this darkness soon.
Proclaiming that which we all cling so desperately to:
He makes all things new.
That was beautiful...
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