Growing up my boys didn’t really hurt themselves too badly. Mostly it was minor injuries and we’d tell them to walk it off. “It’ll be all right.” “No biggie.” “Nothing broken.” Those were all common phrases heard around our farm and home. But now, now they’re to the age that’s it’s not bumps and bruises that hurt but their hearts.
Nearly 9 years ago we lost Mike’s sister, Liz, to a brain aneurism. Helping them through the grief and helping them learn to support their cousins in their grief was new territory. Lots of raw emotions and lots of feelings of protection toward the younger cousins surfaced. We cried, we prayed, we asked God why, we spent more time together as a family and as an extending family savoring the moments. But the hurt remains just under the surface.
Last fall, they lost a friend to suicide. That’s a heart hurt that you can’t fix. You want to. You want to be able to go back in time and convince the young man that there is hope for tomorrow, that the lies Satan is telling you are just that, lies. But you can’t. You just stand with them, hug them, cry with them and pray with them. Eventually you can look back and smile at some memories. But the hurt remains just under the surface.
And then this year. This year has been such a roller coaster for us all. Jesse and Brittany learned one of their twin babies was having issues on January 4th. It looked bleak enough that they were referred to Cardinal Glennon Hospital in St. Louis for a special surgery. Last Tuesday we sat in a waiting room, praying for the best. One baby still seemed to have a long road ahead. Then Monday, at their follow up appointment at Women’s and Children’s Hospital in Columbia, suddenly, things were looking up. Baby B was producing urine and the amniotic sac was fuller – both very encouraging items. I began to hope, began to dream that maybe God was working a miracle here. And then….
Tonight Jesse took Brittany to the ER. As I sit here typing this, it’s not looking good. Both babies still have a heartbeat but they’re also 7 weeks away from being able to survive delivery. And I could hear the brokenness in my son’s voice on the phone. I saw the anger and frustration of not being able to make this right. And I saw the pain and fear in his eyes. And THAT is a hurt I cannot fix. I can storm Heaven’s gates, praying for a miracle. I can beg, bargain and plead with God, but I cannot do anything. We don’t know how it will play out. I want to make it all better. I want to put a band-aid on his heart and Brittany’s heart and make the hurt disappear. But I can’t. All I could do is go to them. Pray with them. Take them their Bible and let God speak to them through His Word. Oh, and the irony of it all, is they’re in the same hospital room Chris was in nearly 9 years ago after an appendectomy gone wrong. He spent a week in the room where Brittany is planning on being for the next week. And God walked me through the book of Job then. He spoke to me in the late nights and early mornings, in the middle of the day and the middle of the night. I pray Jesse and Brittany can hear Him speaking to them now. He can heal the hurt.
I love you kids – all 3 of you adult kids and those two little kids I have yet to hold but who have a hold on my heart.
Mom (aka Grandma)