Sunday, March 18, 2007
It's totally dark in Bobby's hospital room except for this computer screen. I look across the room at my son, curled up under his favorite blanket with Mr. Smiley, Brownie, and Ruff, his favorite stuffed animals. All I can think right now is, "Please, Lord, just give us more time with him. Please, God, I know he's yours to do with as you will, but could you just heal him and let him grow up? Let him hit puberty, let his voice change, let him be as tall as his daddy, let him play sports, let him learn to play the piano, let him go to college, get married, and have children of his own some day. Please?" Is this just selfishness on my part? I'm not trying to strike any bargains with the Lord--I know that God doesn't play that game, and neither do I. I know that Bobby is God's child, and that God is sovereign. I pray that this whole situation will bring glory to God. And yet...I don't want to lose my son! He is so sweet and cuddly and smart--how could I possibly handle it if he doesn't get better? These are such dark thoughts. Some people would say it's "Bad luck" to even think this way. But I don't believe in luck. I believe in an All-Powerful Creator God who has known every day, minute and second of my son's life since the beginning of time. And I hear a still, small voice telling me to be still and know that He is God, and rest in Him. This is all that I cling to, and it gives me peace. He gives me Peace.