I was tucking in my daughter last night and she looked at me and asked if I ever got a feelung about things I just somehow knew. I told her yes, sometimes I do. She looked at me in the eye and said she had a feeling something was about to happen but she didn’t know what.
This morning her brother woke up with a fever and extreme tenderness and pain in his low abdomen. When he refused all breakfast we called the doctor. I secretly hoped they would tell me this was a certain virus going around. Instead they told me to take our son to the med stop soon.
After a quick exam at the med stop he was sent to our local ER for a CT scan. Hours later he was sent by ambulance the area children’s hospital to have his appendix removed.
And now in the late hours of a Sunday night, eleven years and some months after he was born by c-section in the late hours of a Sunday night, he is in the operating room having his least useful but now most dangerous organ removed.
My children have always been very healthy. I looked on at parents of children fighting extreme illness and wondered how they did it. How did they face the mortality of their children without breaking? How did they stay so strong?
And here I am 12 hours into a journey I never wanted to take and I haven’t broken down yet. I feared for him early on. While his dad was checking him in at the ER I spent some time packing bags and praying. I wanted to tell God I would be okay if I could just go back to surgery with him. I just wanted to hold him the whole time.
But then I saw my son’s face when he got the news he would be having surgery. He was so brave. There has been a peace and calmness about him the whole day. Through all the ups and down he laid there just watching TV like all was okay. When I saw him having the courage to hold himself together, I knew I had to do the same.
But there was more. It has just been so peaceful today. In a way I can’t explain. When our priest came and anointed our son tonight and laid hands on him in prayer, I had a vision of God holding my son throughout the surgery. Holding him just as I would but even more completely.
This knowledge that my son is held and cared for by others, the wonderful nurses and doctors at this hospital, while I wait to see my son’s face again comforts me. The knowledge that my son is held by God now and in his every moment of need, it helps me let him go.
Don’t get me wrong, I will rejoice when I see his sweet face again, when I can hold his hand.
But I know there is One who loves and cares for him even more than I. The one who put this gift within my womb to begin with.
If you happen to read this post tonight, will you say a prayer for my sweet boy? For his healing and recovery. And for his parents who wait with peaceful anticipation to see their son, their beloved again?
And that this child and his mom will rest as deeply tonight as they did that late night eleven years ago when they met for the first time.
Thanks as always for the prayers and presence. May you have the grace and comfort to let all your burdens and treasures rest in God’s hands as well.