Sirens screeched as blue and red flashes lit up the street. I held him tighter and looked outside, wishing it was just a nightmare and the vehicles were really there for something else.

Please Lord.

Everything was a blur. Vitals. Papers. Phone calls. Find clothes, pack a bag. No, I’m not letting go of him. Yes, look wherever you need to. Lights. Doors open, doors close. Are we going?

Lord, please…

A whole town watching, on edge. Tears. Here comes the chopper. Please, let me fly with him. A reluctant nod, ear protection, tighten the belt. Off we go – food, stay down.

Lord, thank You for this provision.

Landed. Searching for a railing - there isn’t one, don’t trip.

What happened? Here’s his mother - I can tell you what I know. His frantic eyes, searching, found me: locked. Can I sit with him? Sure, then tests.

Scans, needles, questions. A smile. Thank You, dear Lord.

Daddy. Another smile. Scans, needles, questions. Texts, prayers.

The agony of waiting, feeling his heartbeat.

Lord, thank You that I can be here to hold him. Thank You for holding both of us. What time is it? I’m so exhausted. My arms are shaking but I’m not about to move him. Sustain me, Lord.

Nurse arrives, he’s clear.

What?

He’s good. We didn’t find anything.

Nothing?? How?

Not sure…but you can go.

Catch my breath, the shaking pauses. Relief. Awe. How?

I’d never prayed so hard. Never cried out to the Lord in such desperation, begging Him to hold my boy and let him miraculously be alright. Never have I held my little one so tight. I lived on edge weeks after the accident, waiting for something to take a turn for the worse. Waiting to see that everything wasn’t actually alright. What if this? And what if that?

We can’t live in what-ifs.

Live in thanksgiving.

How? How do you live in thanksgiving, when life is fleeting before your eyes? How, when you don’t know if your son will be here in the morning?

Praise.

“Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.
Finally, brethren, whatever things are true, whatever things are noble, whatever things are just, whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely, whatever things are of good report, if there is any virtue and if there is anything praiseworthy - meditate on these things. The things which you learned and received and heard and saw in me, these do, and the God of peace will be with you.”
Philippians 4:6-9

I knew this section of Scripture. Memorized it from a young age. And here I was, in a prime situation to use it. Written from Paul, who faced imprisonments, beatings, shipwrecks. He knew challenges, and here he was saying it was possible to have peace in the midst of them. I had thought for sure I would be firm and steadfast in the Lord when hard-pressed, someday, somehow. Yet now, I was turning the other way and clinging desperately to fear.

I fought what He says in Philippians.

No, You can’t tell me to be calm. I might lose my child. Or he might never be the same. And You want me to think about things that are true and right and virtuous and lovely and praiseworthy?

Yes.

So I tried, and my husband helped me daily.

True: our boy is home. The scans didn’t indicate anything abnormal.

Just, right: he was seen right away, doctors listened and everyone worked together.

Virtuous: many people helped us through all stages of the accident, caring and going out of their way to serve.

Lovely: somehow, there was an element of beauty below as I flew over towns in the eerie, loud silence of the helicopter. Is that even worth mentioning?

Praiseworthy: all of the above. And most, that he is healthy.

Little by little, I began to experience something I’ve never understood to this depth. This Scripture is true, and it is truly comforting. The peace that passes all understanding? That - that is indescribable, and it only comes from the Lord.

I forced myself to praise Him even as I shook with fear. I praised Him for the little things in front of me, and I thanked Him for knowing all the big things around me. As I gave Him thanks, He reminded me that I do not hold control. What could I have done, really, to have any control the night of the accident? What could I have done, really, to control things in the helicopter or hospital? Nothing. We don’t control things.

The what-ifs come and I can think through scenarios, but then they must go because they aren’t mine to determine. He is trustworthy. The next step may be terrifying or it may be easy. It may be another degree of pain, or it may be a relief. God knows, and He gives the strength and peace necessary for each moment. He is not absent! He knows, and He is so ready to help us and heal our broken hearts.

I wish I could describe this better for you, but you won’t know it by my words. You’ll only know it by His. Practice it in the simple things - give thanks when it’s easy, find virtue and honorable things out of habit. And when harder things come, employ the same routine. You will learn of His peace, and you will never want it to leave.

…to be continued…

This has been years in the making, and I have often prayed of when to start writing. When to share. The pieces haven’t been there - it always has been not yet. But now, it’s time.

I am going to share fractions of how the Lord has worked in my life. I’m not sure how it will look and where it will go - He isn’t done yet, of course. I don’t have a story tied up with a bow. But my deepest desire is that I will convey His goodness, and that you will come away with two things:

Pain isn’t bad, and God is always trustworthy.

Josh and I talked about adoption before we ever started dating. He was moving with his family to another country, and he entertained thoughts of how to get involved in an orphanage there. Him, fresh into life in a new country; me, fresh out of life in a new country. Both: a desire to care for those who didn’t have a family.

I was heartbroken to leave that particular mission field. But I thought someday the Lord would bring me back; I had grand plans and all. I knew He had led me to return to the States, as much as I didn’t want to. I thought for sure He would move me back once I’d gotten married. The house I walked past almost daily, the one I’d researched from the sale listing and figured out how many bedrooms I could turn it into – it would wait, right? He could make that happen.

Josh and I got married and settled into our 642-square-foot apartment. Tiny by our standards, lavish by others. I looked out our bedroom window at the sparrows that always sat on the wires. You look after their every need…and You look after mine. Thank You. Would you bring us back there, please?

I longed to go.

Year after year, to this day, my husband still grins when he asks, “has it been three months? You’re about due for a need-to-move itch.”

Over time the yearning for that specific country has waned, as I see such need elsewhere. But my longing to move resurfaces every few months. I long for warmth and sun. for barefoot babies and gardens. for a home with many bedrooms, space for many children, land - that we can afford. And yet He has us here, in a cold little New England town, with many of our dreams out of reach. Contentment is something I’ve had to fight for.

“You want how many kids?” people are always surprised.

“Ten,” I say. “Or more.”

“Is your husband okay with that?”

“You kidding?” he pipes in. “I want as many as the Lord will give us.”

And here we are, with our two sweet boys. Immensely grateful and wondering what His timing is for bringing us more.

Instead of a house with many bedrooms, we are in a duplex with two bedrooms. Instead of acreage and gardens and animals, we share a backyard and have been trying our hand at raised beds in a corner of the lot. Instead of great health, I am forced to put many things (like childbearing) on hold.

I could complain.

But I know that His ways are good and we are where we are because He wants us here. So, I look for the blessings and I turn this waiting into a classroom.

We have plenty of space for our family. We have a yard to play in and let the dog run in. We have the ability to get creative with garden space, and the time to learn and get good at growing food on a small scale. We share the duplex and yard with my brother and sister-in-law, which has been one of God’s greatest blessings to us all. Josh and I have time to focus on training up our boys and setting a family rhythm before adding more children in. I have time to get healthy. There are countless other thanksgivings I could share.

God does what He wants when He wants, and there is no better way.

So I wait, and wait some more.

To be continued…

Let Me Tell You a Story - Part 2

Let Me Tell You a Story