<Craig … he’s always run toward the fire, not away>
My wake up call …
I’m not sure how close Jake was from his last breath. His eyes had started dilating. Immediate family had been assembled informing us ‘his chance of survival didn’t look good.’
Blindsided by the news, I found myself standing alone in the NICU corridor, midway between Jake’s room and the exit doors. My body felt void of its abilities.
‘Do I go to his bedside and wait for the inevitable? If I am a good mother I will. After all, I was there to bring him into this world, so I certainly should be present if …’
<What life event has knocked the breath out of you, leaving you gasping for air?>
Life prior to December 9, 2009, had been framed by stability. Stability? Perhaps, better described ‘going as we had planned,’ filled with great times and life long dreams coming true. I relied on false and fragile walls supported by the world to guard against suffering.
<Can you relate? Life is moving along until (fill in the blank) happens. These events arrive in many different packages. For me, it was seven words that individually were unremarkable. Yet collectively, changed every fiber of my being … “his chance of survival doesn’t look good.”
My faith in Jesus Christ … nurtured and in place at a young age. A solid foundation … deeply rooted. Yet, over the years, a complacent faith, failing to thrive due to my self reliance and influences from the world. <A word to you from one who is not wise, just misled … looking away from faith was a careless decision on my part … be careful>
‘Your son has suffered a massive stroke.’ I asked the doctor, ‘can he survive this?’
The skilled and competent physician’s response was a complete betrayal by everyone and everything I had placed my confidence in. Any expectations and trust in this world ceased to exist, forever.
<With whom or where do you place your confidence? It’s an important question to ask oneself.>
Frozen in the hallway … I again looked toward Jake’s room and back to the exit door. Slowly, I turned my back from the outcome that was both unacceptable and unbearable … walking away from my son’s room … and through the exit doors.
Yet Craig, my husband, did not leave … he returned to Jake’s side.
<I’m careful now not to place judgment on others responses to life … you just never know …>
Through the exit doors, I quickly found a private corner to cradle myself. Suffocating from the words just spoken, yet still begging the world to tell me that Jake was going to be okay … only to be met by silence. From a confident, self assured person only hours earlier … to now being stunned, blindsided, and broken … left gasping for air.
The world’s silence was my wake up call. <Has the world ever responded to you in silence?>
Feeling void of everything, including my faith, I finally looked Up and said seven simple words … seven words that individually were quite unremarkable. Yet collectively, began to restore my brokenness … ‘God, help me, please. I need You.’
It was … and is … just that simple … ‘God, help me, please. I need You.’ And that cry, six years ago, was the beginning of moving out of darkness and into the light.
“Show me the right path, O Lord; point out the road for me to follow. Lead me by your truth and teach me, for you are the God who saves me. All day long I put my hope in you.” Psalm 25:4-5
Six years later, life still has many challenges for my family. Everyday I have to renew my mind by saying, ‘I trust you God with my life and the life of my family.’
One breath away from losing my child … that’s what it took to propel me to fully embrace the promises of Jesus Christ.
<Pressing Toward Joy thought of the day … be careful to not put your faith and trust into someone or something that can be taken away from you. The gamble is just too high.