May 9, 2010

  • What can I say but hinneni?

    It was on Thursday that I was sitting at the end of my baby's hospital bed, watching her sleep in the dim lighting, with the EEG electrode cap on her head.  It had been three weeks since we had observed some things that had brought us to this point.  And as I sat there with possible prognoses as a specter overhead, I thought about how God had asked Abraham to sacrifice his son, and I wondered how the story might have been different if God had asked Sarah instead.  I won't pretend to know what a father's heart is like, but I do know a mother's.  It is not a nearly impossible, but a truly impossible request.  I am quite certain that asking me to put myself on that altar and sacrifice myself would be infinitely easier than the thought of my child being placed in harm's way.  But if God were to ask me to do something similar, what other choice do I have?  I can't fathom following through with such a request, but I knew in that moment that hinneni ("Here I am") is the only option for me.  My desire to hold on tightly to my baby to protect her was being eclipsed by the realization that she belongs to God.  For as intense as my desire might be to shield her from a life full of challenges, there is really nothing I could do to prevent it.  She belongs to God, and if he wanted her to have an illness for her whole life in order to bring him glory, then there's little I can do - nor should I do - to change it.  If his calling for my life is to focus on care for her, then that's his will for me.  A calling is not something I can fight.  It's a privilege.  It's a destiny.  When we fulfill his calling for us, we bring him glory. 

    While I sat there with my little baby, waiting as the test was running, and wondering about the result, I prayed over and over again, "She belongs to you, she belongs to you..." as an act of surrender, a declaration, an affirmation, a confession, and a request to help me remember and believe.  I am only given charge over her life to nurture her and help her understand and fulfill her giftings and calling.  She does not belong to me.  She does not belong to me.  This was surely another defining moment in my young career as a mother...

    The results came later affirming what we had prayed for all along -- the EEG proved normal.  I guess God has a different calling for the three of us (and I must admit -- as I'm sure Abraham could concur -- how thankful I am for that!). 

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