On the eave of neurosurgery for your precious baby daughter its hard for a dad to not get a little philosophical. For those of you who know me well you're probably surprised I haven't used this venue to philosophize already, well, I've held it as long as I could.
Why, Josie? Why not me? How is this fair? If God loves us so much then why does this stuff happen?
These are the inevitable big bad questions that we stop being able to ignore when normal life takes a pause and our little comfortable nests are shaken by a storm. Something happens and those who love you send cards with wonderful reassuring handwritten thoughts that really mean something and bring you to tears out of gratitude. Hallmark has pre-printed cards for "Ex-Step-Mother Birthday" but none for "Tragic, Crippling Loss" or "Heart-rending Diagnosis Received". We live in a time and place that has invented very clever ways of avoiding the all-pervasive effects of the fall of man. We are very, very good at ignoring the ultimate consequence of sin.
There are many ways of dealing with these questions. My first reaction was "could be worse". We have dear friends (Carmen mentioned them in a previous post) whose 5 day old son had massive open-heart surgery and months long, in hospital, recovery. I have thought of them much since we received Josie's diagnosis and their story has been a huge encouragement to Carmen and myself. Or take this line of thought further and go the ultimate "could be worse" example: Job. If any human had a right to the "don't get worse that me" title its Job. But in the end, what comfort is there in being thankful that your situation might be worse than it is? You can't escape the thought that things either could or should be better. Ultimately, the answer does lie within Job's story, just as it does with every other Bible story, if you have ears to hear. The answer doesn't come by looking at Job though. He was just a schmuck like you and me, and there is no help in comparing us to him.
Why did this happen to my little Josie?
I used to work in apartment maintenance with a very Godly man who, when encountering a leaky pipe or a rotten sill, would just sigh and say with genuine sadness "Well, it's a fallen world". Most men would have spat and cursed, but this was his answer to all life's minor and major frustrations. That bit of wisdom might seem trite to some, but it has served me well. Josie did nothing to deserve this. I have done much to deserve worse, so have you, and so will she someday. For that matter, a better question might be: what did she do to deserve life? or what did I do to deserve being her father? or living in a time and place where her condition could be treated? These kinds of questions are a double edged sword.
Enough of my babbling, I couldn't say it better than this:
"For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us. For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God. For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of him who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to corruption and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of your bodies. For in this hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience." Romans 8: 18-28
Father, our little Josie was born into a world in rebellion against you. The tragic effects of our rebellion have not left her untouched, yet this was not outside of your knowledge and power. This malformation of her skull was not according to your design, but it was accounted for in your plans for her. I trust in you, even as I groan inside, I trust in your perfect plans for my child, Your child. Father, I ask that you ease the pains she will have tomorrow. Her tiny brain may not have the capacity to remember those pains. But I know that You, who loved her so much that you did not spare Your own Sons pain on her behalf, will have compassion for her beyond my tiny brain's capacity to understand. You have graciously entrusted me with the care of this beautiful little one, help me to hope always for the day when she will know no more pain.
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