*Warning: May not be suitable content for sensitive audiences.*
We sat on the couch together. Much like we usually do. My girls all piled around me. Some on the back of the couch so they could see and others tucked in close. They couldn’t wait to see my findings. To dream with me a bit.
“I just love that cute teether… look at that flower print…” They gawked over the couple of items in an online cart. A hopeful “wish list” waiting for a further time.
“Mommy? What will we do with all this stuff if the baby dies before we get to meet her?” Her innocent nine year old browns pierced my soul. “We’d cry together and then we’d find a family who could use the things,” came my brainstorming. And I realized that I cannot protect her from the answer to the question. I can’t even protect her from knowing about the question. I cannot protect her from what she already has known and felt.
I don’t think I ever imagined parenting would be like this. The older girls and I sat in the living room chatting, per usual, before dinner. No real direction to the conversation. Nowhere we needed to be, but together. The littles ran amuck in their room, playing until the “dinner call” stirred them.
He shared some reflections he’d penned, spurring a flood of memories for us all. He left to stir the macaroni, but still stayed engaged in the reflections from the nearby kitchen. Words poured out uncontrollably from eleven and twelve year old lips. Fear. Loss. Hurt. Deep emotions reminding us all of a time we couldn’t save each other from. A time when we all floundered in a deep ocean, just trying to stay afloat until we were saved. A time of medical emergencies, uncertainty, and desperate heart prayers all falling over Christmas time.
And I was reminded again how much I cannot protect them. I cannot even protect myself. How we live in a fallen world with great and deep hurts. Ones that drive us into the Father’s arms with tear-stained faces and a stunned lack of words on our lips.
But mixed in there are the victories too. The times He has held His hand over us while we were in the cleft of the rock. Those times cannot be forgotten. They’re just as real as the hurts. We recalled those together too. In the big jumble of rambling feelings.
The time the robber came and went through the nursery window back in the states, creeping right by my two sleeping babes. And yet he took nothing, despite meeting him face to face at the foot of Matt and my bed. Matt spoke and he fled. And the girls never even woke up. No, protection did not look anything like I expected. I’d have preferred protection to look like him never entering, let alone WHERE he chose to enter and exit. But protection wasn’t mine to define. And it taught us lessons we never even knew we needed.
She talked about how joyfully they played. How she was jealous of their happiness in the midst of her internal chaos. And then we thanked the Lord for protecting “the littles” innocence despite the long night before we knew joy would come. No, his protection did not look like I thought it would. We didn’t know then what beauty could come from the ashes. All we saw was smoke rising from the ashes. How could He use this? How would He use this? And we lifted our scars, the individual ones and the ones we had received as a family, as a broken offering.
I don’t know how to answer these deep questions. I don’t have the healing words for these deep hurts. I never will. And I’m thankful that today God has gifted me with the arms to reach out and offer hugs when I have no words. Today He has given us each other to walk through the valleys together. Thank You, Father.
I don’t know if we’ll get to keep her. Or for how long. But I am thankful that we’ve had today with her. And I am hopeful that there could even be a tomorrow. Because I’ve seen Him protect in unexpected ways, pulling us from the deepest valleys. I’ve seen Him bring about healing from wounds too deep to identify. I’ve seen Him extend His hand and literally hold our very lives together with every breath and heartbeat He has given. He knows what we need. And He knows the protection, security, and depth lessons that we really need to draw us to Himself and render us better tools in His hand.
Lord, they’re yours. They were never mine. Thank You for another day with them. Thank You for another day period. Thank You for your extended hand of protection. Thank You for Your hand of healing. May we use this “one more day” that You are giving to honor You, no matter what lesson may come on the horizon. You have been and You will be Enough. No matter what is asked of us or taken from us. Thank You, Father, for holding us when the world shakes. Your hands are and will always be our greatest security. Your will be done in these lives that You are sustaining, Father. Amen.
