Sometimes blessing comes in circumstance we would have never chosen for ourselves or for others. Last week, my 10 month old grandson was diagnosed with cystic fibrosis and he and his parents have spent the last two weeks in the Children's National Medical Center in DC. His tiny little body had wasted away to 12 pounds and he was admitted for malnutrition, none of us knowing why. After a few days of testing, the specter of CF was raised, his mom's family having a distinct history of the disease, and several days of waiting for a diagnosis began. When the CF diagnosis came, our worlds were shaken, filled with fear and uncertainty, and at the same time, we determined to trust God's hand in whatever the future brings.
Trust is difficult when I am afraid. When the days ahead loom uncertain and are potentially filled with suffering, I have to make a definitive choice between becoming incapacitated by that fear, or turning my face to God and holding fast to His promises of nearness. The seesaw of emotions teeters between debilitating, nauseous anxiety on the one hand, and deliberate confidence, on the other. Even if trust and confidence win the day, or more accurately, the moment, the turmoil takes its toll, nonetheless.
What I have rediscovered in these last two weeks, however, is my gift for loving and caring, for nurturing those who need support in trying times. St Teresa of Avila wrote some lines centuries ago that John Michael Talbot set to music and the words have been my prayer for many years. "Christ has no body, now, but yours. No hands, no feet on earth but yours. Yours are the eyes with which He looks, compassion on this world. Christ has no body here on earth, but yours."
The obvious blessing of these past days is that my grandson has responded to treatment, is gaining weight, is happily becoming his old self again, and has returned home. The more obscure blessing is that in the suffering and grief that has been part of our lives lately, God has been at hand, "saving, helping, keeping, loving," in the words of the old hymn. And He has reminded me of my most important contribution to the world, to be His hands and eyes in this broken, hurting world, and, in so doing, I discover again just who I am.
Ann--sometimes my best prayer is an image instead of words. Years ago, my husband used a picture of his hand holding his boss's daughter's hand (she was 4 at the time) in a publicity piece for DCLS. I carry that image in my heart for times when words fail me. In my mind, God's hand is represented by my husband's and my hand is the little girl's. I ask our heavenly Father to hold my hand through the difficult times and I strive to trust him as completely as a young child trusts a parent. Love to all, and praying for continued progress for your grandson.
ReplyDeleteAnn, words fail me right now. Please know that you are heard, the family is heard, and that most importantly, God hears. My heart and prayers are with you all.
ReplyDeleteBarb