Josh woke in the night needing his medicine, I gave it to him and before he’d even swallowed it he was back asleep. It took me a little longer. I watched him sleep for a few minutes before heading back to my own room. He looks so peaceful and sweet, he always has. He has a way of pulling off the naughtiest things and then looking up at you and smiling in that sweet way he has and staying mad isn’t really an option. He will be causing total chaos and wreaking havoc on our home and then at nap time he curls up and sleeps with his monkey and bunny tucked up in his arms and soother falling out of his lips. He just has a way about him that causes a heart to fall in love and eyes to light up with joy.
I went to bed and lay there for a while thinking about the past week, the past months really. I have spent a lot of time in the last few months reflecting on miracles. What they look like? How we get one, why we sometimes don’t get one… I have even questioned the things in my life that I had believed to be miracles. I have doubted their existence, I have struggled with faith. This shames me, after all that God has done for myself, for Joshua, how can I doubt his hand in our lives?
I went into this week prepared for the worst case scenario. It was by far his most difficult procedure, definitely the longest, and after speaking with his doctors in pre-op, it was also the one that offered us little hope and encouragement. For the first time on this journey I lost my optimism.On Monday morning when we were driving to the hospital I felt sick, knowing what was about to happen, knowing that I was doing this to him. It had been my signature on the consent form. If anything happened to him, I would live with that knowledge for the rest of my life. Did I have a choice? No, but did it matter on Monday morning? No.
When he was finally woken out of sedation and calling ‘Mummy’ looking for me to help him somehow I felt the guilt of knowing it was me who did this, it was my fault he was in pain, and worse, that I couldn’t help him. During all of this, I anticipated set backs, and waited for complications. For the first time since Josh was diagnosed inside of me as having a heart defect I had stopped believing in miracles. I didn’t stop believing that God loved us, I didn’t stop knowing that he would see us through, but I had stopped believing that God could move mountains. I had gotten off my mustard seed path and wandered around for a little while.
Yesterday, as I was standing in the Delta Chelsea staring at my son sitting on Santa’s knee, his scar showing, his shaky hands holding tight to the Christmas bells, his sunken eyes watching in delight I was moved to tears. This child truly is a miracle, his existence is a miracle, his joy and laughter are miracles. God gave me a Christmas gift bigger than just Joshua’s miraculous recovery. He gave me back my belief in miracles. They happen all around us, we saw one this week with a friends Mom who somehow was cured of Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma in a miracle surgery. Everyday they happen, answered prayers, miracles, Gods little hugs from heaven. They happen, we just need to see them, we need to keep focused on him and keep looking for them. I had stopped looking because I had stopped believing, he reminded me to open my eyes and see.
A friend reminded me this week of the meaning of Joshua’s name, God saves. He saves, not just the Joshua’s of the world but the world. We just can’t stop looking…