Remembering and Living

This is a hard post for me to write.  Six years ago today, we were placing a piece of our heart in the hands of skilled surgeons to provide a life for him he would not have without their skill.  He would have no life at all without grace and mercy.

In the midst of the torn emotions, lack of sleep and the fear that slept right outside the door of my heart and threatened to swallow me up, He whispered into my spirit, "I'm giving you a story to tell, and I'll give you a way to tell it."

His glory story.  We tell it.  We remember it.  We proclaim it from the roof.  His glory.  All for Jesus.

Every needle stick.

Every blood transfusion.

Every catheter.

Every mile driven.

Every sleepless night.

Every close call.

Everything for His glory.

Today, we are remembering.

Something painful.  Something good.  Isn't it funny how good things and pain often go hand in hand? He said it would be that way.

God chose to let him live.  To allow His condition to be found.  He chose to orchestrate his surgeries with the best in the field.  He chose to let Him see, and hear.  To run and play.

Why us?  Why were we blessed this way and others painfully have to let go.

No words.  I don't know.  He chooses.

His way is perfect.  It doesn't have to seem perfect to me to make it perfect.  It's still perfect.

Our journey, not without suffering, is taking joyous turns and leading us to places of blessing.  It is showing His grace and mercy.  His glory.

To bring us from this....

Then again not quite five years later...

To this....

How do you put that into words?

Thanks.  The only way for my soul to breathe is with thanks.

Thanks for the community that supported us through each second of each season.  You will never know what that's meant or how it's changed who we are.

Thanks for each note written.

Thanks for each meal prepared and delivered.

Thanks for each prayer whispered, cried and sobbed.

Thanks for every hug.

Thanks for every Starbucks.

Thanks for every hand held.

Thanks for every blood donation.

Thanks for every hour studied to shape the doctors and nurses into who they are today.

Thanks for every mile driven to encourage.

Thanks for every person who obeyed the Holy Spirit's prompting and went the extra mile for Cullan.

Thanks for one friend making a phone call to another friend who made another phone call to a very busy physician who made another call to a surgeon friend, who said Yes.

Thanks for every caring medical professional who tenderly cared for my child just as I would.

Thanks for sibling play rooms.

Thanks for thinking of the little ones who aren't having surgery but living it out just as if they were.

Thanks for Child Life Specialists.

Thanks for ouchie dolls.

Thanks for a spouse who says, "it's going to be ok" when he's praying with all his heart that it will.

Thanks for a husband who stays when others would have run scared.

Thanks for a husband who puts his arm around me and nudges me forward when I'm paralyzed with emotion.

Thanks for a husband who sleeps in a recliner for six months holding our child upright to reduce swelling and keep him from whacking his head in his sleep so a weary momma can catch a few hours of sleep herself.

Thanks for every good and perfect gift that comes from above.

Thanks for a Heavenly Father who sees, and cares and holds.  Forever.

Who says, I will never leave you or forsake you.  And He never does.

And yes, thanks for a skull that fused prematurely and bones that didn't grow and a condition unheard of to our parent ears to forge our hearts with Yours and blast our lives into sharing Your story written over these broken and diseased hearts redeemed by your grace and love and mercy.

Who knows where we are in the story?  Or how many more chapters there will be?  You do.  And because of that...

We remember and we live.  For You.

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