An incessant beeping roused me from the hard foam mattress on the floor. 4:00 AM. I struggled awake and rushed to my daughter’s side. IV’s and tubing framed her frail face as the fear assaulted me anew.
I desperately needed hope. Now.
There was nothing I could do. She slept peacefully while the nurse tended the machine. I staggered out into the hall, my bag in hand. I needed somwhere quiet to collect myself, to communicate with God, and to just process this ICU drama.
Settling into a child’s chair in an empty playroom, I clasped my hands atop my bag’s contents: my Bible and my notebook. I bowed my head as the tears started. My body shook.
I was sleep-deprived.
In shock.
And yo-yoing between extreme gratitiude that God had miracuously saved her life and anquishing despair over the anticipated permanent life changes my ten-year-old would experience.
I needed God.
I needed sleep.
I needed hope.
I couldn’t find any of these in the Children’s hospital. But the answers lay on a page beneath my clasped hands in Romans 15:13.
Somehow, it all came down to trusting God.
He did save her life.
But then my mind quickly countered with the unfathomable reality of our situation: But now she has a chronic condition without a cure. Every, single time she eats, she will need a shot.
God! How is that fair?
How in the world can I offer her hope, when I’m struggling to find it myself?
It was time to take stock of what I did have:
I had God. I had a history with God. I knew His stories, His promises, His character. I knew He could be trusted. I knew He’d provide what I needed, what she needed.
Oh, I wrestled with God. I would gladly take her place. I couldn’t bear to see my little girl like this.
But I knew God had her. I couldn’t comprehend it. I didn’t want to believe this was her lot. But I did entrust her to Him.
Slowly, a peace settled over me. A peace that would gently grow over the next several months. Unbelieveably, I learned the truth of Romans 15:13 first-hand. Although I didn’t like the diagnosis, and I hated the challenge imposed on my child, I did experience God’s grace.
His joy came through in the little things. Learning to make a sugar-free milkshake for her to enjoy. Helping her manage her blood sugar so she could roller-blade. And seeing her smile and enjoy life again.
I knew that hope. And today, at fourteen, so does my daughter. She’s a source of inspiration for most who know her.
I never would have authored her experience. Yet, God has fulfilled His promise of giving hope to us as we have learned to trust in Him.
He knows what He’s doing.
He’s holding us in His loving hands.
He’s offering hope and joy and peace– gifts I never truly expected to find in a Children’s ICU.
Prayer: Dear Lord, You see. You know. You are working. You want me to experience joy, peace, and hope. Help me to trust in You. As I learn to yield to You and trust in You, You will gift me joy, peace and hope. Thank You especially for hope for tomorrow. In Jesus’ name, Amen.