 |
This morning as my husband was preaching he mentioned 1 Peter 5:7.
And God whispered,
“She is twelve now.
She is alive.
She is healthy.
She is sitting right beside you.”
Gratitude filled and almost spilled.
I put my arm around her and pulled her close and kissed love on her smooth soft cheek.
She looked at me a bit stunned.
She doesn’t remember.
But I do.
She doesn’t remember at the age of two, being in the ICU at Children’s hospital fighting for her life.
She doesn’t remember her lungs filling with fluid.
She doesn’t remember being tested for everything under the sun, from Lyme disease to scarlet fever.
She doesn’t remember the rash that covered her and the high fever that raged.
She doesn’t remember being on the edge of anaphylactic shock.
She doesn’t remember that WE. WEREN’T. THERE.
BUT GOD WAS…
She doesn’t remember that Daddy and Mommy were on a survey trip, literally on the other side of the earth.
She doesn’t remember that her father had just preached “Casting all your care upon him for he careth for you.” And then in within moments being asked by God to
LIVE.
IT.
OUT.
She doesn’t remember how we prayed and begged God for her life. It was very literally…
ALL WE COULD DO.
We could not get there faster. We could not hold her. We could not kiss her brow while the fever waged war within her. We could not whisper in her ear that we loved her and that Jesus was taking care of her. That the Great Physician was in control.
All we could do was CAST OUR CARE ON HIM and trust him and his love and care for her… and us.
She doesn’t know that we could not get home any sooner. We were already scheduled to leave the very next day. But it would still take 48 hours to get there. That THAT fifteen hour flight across the Pacific was the longest in our lives because we had no contact to know her condition. We did not know if it had improved or gotten worse.
If she had lived…
or …
We have told her.
She has heard the story of how God intervened and even the doctor’s still can’t explain what she had or what caused it or what exactly made it stop and go away.
She knows the story, but she doesn’t remember it like we do.
God remembers.
O how I need him to remind me of it.
EVERY.
SINGLE.
DAY.
(The first photo was taken in Scotland, A WEEK after being released from the hosptial. We arrived home to a little girl sleeping soundly in her crib safe and sound …and healthy. In less than a week we left for Scotland. The second photo was taken this past May.)
***edit*** As she read this post she commented, “almost spilled? I should think it puddled.” Totally in love with her literary mind and how it shapes the way she expresses herself.
