The other day Bubby and I were laying out on our big trampoline and as I laid there I asked him if he saw anything in the clouds.
Knowing he probably understands a little less than I’m trying to pour into him, I kept talking.
I explained to him that I am looking for hearts in the clouds.
I feel a huge shift in who I was, who I am today, and who I am becoming.
It’s not all bad, it’s just unfamiliar.
And at the same time familiar.
As I have changed my faith has been strained, stretched, tested, put through the fire (hell) and back.
Or at least it feels like it.
With every attack on my mind I feel like I’m losing a little bit of faith.
But there are some things I decided I needed to hold fast to, regardless of how I feel.
Things that are unwavering. Steadfast. Forever.
The Reason I’m standing at all today.
Every time I hear about someone thanking God that he answered their urgent prayers I can’t help but think back to that time in the hallway by the level 3 NICU, eyes swollen and red from crying, and a fresh c-section scar that I could barely even feel, desperate for a way to reach Heaven’s ear.
I believe with all my heart God is a perfect God and does not make mistakes.
But he didn’t intervene, and the gap between my prayers and his lack of pulling in and helping our daughter out- I rest that gap in my own shortcoming.
Was my prayer off somehow? Misworded? Not enough faith?
These are real questions that haunt me more than I’d like to admit.
But then I remember the time we nearly lost her that last Thursday. And how our prayers did reach Heaven. He knew I wasn’t ready for goodbye.
And I remember the first time I laid eyes on her, I was filled with so much fear and wonder. Fear that I couldn’t give her my everything anymore. Wonder because this was the lovely creature that been growing and kicking inside of me for 29 weeks.
And I remember the peace that surrounded those 13 days, and how the visitors flocked and astounded the NICU staff.
And I remember the hope that I will see her again.
And I stop to remember the sacrifice Jesus made on the cross to make this hope possible.
And somehow those haunting questions that only threaten to steal my joy are silenced, even if just for a moment.
Sometimes my heart needs to hear them.