I’ve taken some time off recently to settle back into life after all of the drama that’s happened in the past… six months or year, depending on where you set the story’s beginning. I gotta tell you, being the dad of a (now) reasonably typical kid like Julia is great. And having come through the scariness like we have with all of the support and love of so many, it’s often hard to just sit and take in all of life’s sweetness.
We got clearance from Julia’s cardiologist to go live a normal life and check in once and a while just to make sure all is well. So after a little time to get our bearings, we brought her out into our world to meet the dozens of people who had been praying for her for months. Our first Sunday at church as a family was met with so many smiles and I lost track of how many times we stopped on our way from the parking lot to the auditorium to talk with someone who had been following her story. People would step forward with a smile and we would tell them how we felt like were coming out from a cave and blinking our tiny pink eyes in the bright sun. Julia was well after a long winter of uncertainty; and she was certainly the “belle of the ball” that day.
One conversation after another; and nearly every time we would hear, “God is so faithful.” It was hard not to agree with them.
A similar reception awaited us when we took Julia on her first road trip to visit Jocelyn’s tribe in Dayton last weekend. There were so many who hadn’t met her in person yet (though her aunt Jen was a godsend through the first dark days at Children’s Hospital) that her adopted Gramma D had an open house for anyone who had followed Julia’s story to come and meet her and celebrate the victory.
Dozens came – some of them people we had never met who had heard of this extraordinary little girl through a friend. All of them, often through tears, marveled in one way or another: “God is so faithful.”
Julia even got top billing in the sermon at Jocelyn’s home church that Sunday. They had prayed for her the day before her surgery, so it was a wonderful moment in the service when the lead pastor of the church paused to recognize, celebrate, and later teach on the faithfulness of God – even in the worst circumstances. Before and after the service, the community that Jocelyn grew up in was there to celebrate with and encourage us after a very challenging season.
And the refrain was the same as they looked into Julia’s wide eyes: “God is so faithful.”
It was before the service, as I watched Jocelyn get her eleventh hug and kiss from a well-wisher, that my focus shifted across the room to a family who pushed a young man in a wheelchair to a spot toward the back of the crowd. Mitchell was in his early twenties and one of the more profound cases of cerebral palsy that I had seen. It was clear that he required round the clock care; and his mom, Carrie, had a look of careworn determination that I had become more acquainted with among the other parents on the PICU floor at Children’s Hospital. That kinship between us was further cemented as she came up after the service, knowing of Julia’s Down Syndrome, kissed her on the head and whispered a silent prayer into her ear.
As I sat through the service, there was a thought bothering me that I couldn’t quite pin down but wouldn’t go away. It was a kind of mental itch that took a while to come to a place that I could put words to it. And here it is:
For weeks, we had celebrated with our community God’s faithfulness in seeing us through Julia’s premature birth, two weeks in neonatal intensive care, homecoming, testing, preparation, surgery and convalescence. We asked for prayers as we waited the agonizing weeks before the surgery that her heart and lungs could bear the strain. We asked for prayers as she endured eight hours of surgery and weeks of recovery. And God was faithful through it all. Julia’s heart is repaired and we are looking forward to a long life with our girl. Truly a miracle – both of medical science and the power of prayer.
But as I looked as Mitchell and his family, I had to ask. Is God still faithful when we don’t get the outcome we desire?
I don’t know them well at all, but I’m sure that Carrie asked for prayers from her community as the diagnoses came in. And I’m sure that her community was determined and faithful in their prayer. But where was God with Mitchell’s miracle?
I’ve spent a lot of time over the last couple of days watching the devastation in Japan and the still hovering spectre of the possible meltdown of two nuclear reactors. I’ve been asking the same question you have: Where was God when the earth shook and the tsunami came in? Is God still faithful, even in the terminal diagnosis or at the end of an addict’s needle?
I sat there in that church service, worshiping a God that can seem, at first glance, awfully arbitrary in his distribution of blessings. One lives, another dies. One survives unscathed, another is profoundly wounded. I fought survivor’s guilt as I watched Mitchell and his family. We’ll have our moments of disappointment, no doubt; but Jocelyn and I still nurture the dream that Julia may one day live independently. Carrie will never know the empty nest, unless a time comes when Mitchell’s care just becomes to difficult.
It wasn’t until after the service that I had a chance to really meet Mitchell and his family. I saw a knowing in his eyes despite the disability. I had the good fortune to hear his mom’s story as well. Carrie is a woman of deep faith and has found joy and fulfillment in caring for Mitchell, and said that he is the glue that holds the family together. She says she thinks God knew she wouldn’t bear the empty nest well, and gave Mitchell to her as the remedy.
I had heard that from other families of people with special needs; but my still limited experience had never really seen it lived out until I met Mitchell’s brother. Levi, a lantern jawed young man of eighteen who looked like he could laugh his way through Navy SEAL physical training, came up to his older brother as I was speaking with Carrie. He wrapped his arms around Mitchell, kissed him on the cheek and whispered words of affection as he looked him in the eyes. Mitchell’s face broke into a grin that I could only describe as utter satisfaction. And I wondered at that moment who the truly blessed are in this world.
Where is God in the earthquakes and tsunamis? People much smarter than I have been pondering those questions for centuries. I may take a whack at that larger question sooner or later. But it took the love between two brothers for me to have a little clarity amid the confusion.
I humbly submit that part of the answer is this: God is faithful in the pain of this world when people are faithful. It is our response to the disaster – be it personal or national – that will be the true test of whether Ultimate Good will prevail. And responding well, even when the times are dark, requires a fortitude quite alien to us. When we choose to give – even when it’s inconvenient, uncomfortable, or even dangerous – we join that stream of Love that is always working to redeem and beautify the brokenness of the world.
Yep – God is faithful. To the very end.
One Response
Thank you for this post. I have been struggling with faith a lot recently. My son Ben is having surgery again tomorrow, and I am so distraught by all of the “what if” thoughts. I want the miracle and a healthy child, and I want our prayers to be answered in spades. Realizing that faith is my best weapon is not easy. Reminding me that we get what we need and not always what we want is important. Thank you. I am so happy that Julia is recovering well and can begin to live the life you hoped she would post-op. I wish I had been able to meet her last week when you were here in Ohio. Love these updates!