Tuesday, July 15, 2014

Tuesday Morning Prayer Requests and Update

It's been a pretty uneventful evening and night.  Outside of some general fussiness, the Minion has been doing okay.  Not much to report on that front.  As a dad, I wonder and worry about the state of her soul in moments like these.  Will she remember any of this?  Will she always hate nurses?  Will she be glad for or hate when daddy stroked her cheek while yet another amount of blood was drawn?

Or will it all be lost in the glorious forgetfulness of being two?

Quick Prayer Requests for the Morning:

1.  No new bad news:  clots, pressures, problems, complications, infections, etc.

2.  Ongoing recovery for her left side and right vision.

3.  From a dad's heart, I'm ready to hold my girl in my arms again.  That's not possible with some of the medically necessary stuff attached to her.  I'm ready to get past that medical necessity to holding her.

4.  Ongoing rest for us and the well-being of the other three kiddos.  I miss not being together.

There's a whole lot I don't understand about most of this.  A friend and fellow-minister called last night and asked about how we were doing and expressed his gratitude for us walking through this without bitterness and with faith.

I'm sure somewhere in the grief stages when we have some more emotional space to process and it's not all adrenaline and lab coats, we will wrestle with anger.  I won't speak for the Queen, but I haven't really wondered about the "Why" question.  I just know this is the path we're on.

My friend, Brad, has written a great piece about our experience this past Sunday morning.  The verse I shared with him that I thought best described our situation and the state of my heart was Psalm 77.19:
Your path led through the sea, Your way through the mighty waters, though Your footprints were not seen.
First, I'm so grateful for the psalms because they give me language that I don't have to say what needs to be said and describe what needs to be described.

Second, it's hard enough following God when His steps are easily seen.  These days when His footprints are obscured by what we cannot control leave our faith threadbare sometimes.  But I come back to what our Student Pastor preached the first Sunday after it all happened:  "Where else are we going to go?  You alone have the words of eternal life" (from John 6).  That doesn't always feel like robust faith.  In fact, sometimes it feels like, "I don't really have any other options, so I guess I'm sticking with You."  Thankfully, mustard seed, threadbare, no-other-options faith still qualifies.

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