I will stand back as they take him out of my view, out of the safety of my arms & let them patch the brokenness of his little body.
The last three months have been filled with a hurt, an ache for how my baby "should" be. I have wrestled with the imperfection of his tiny frame, trying to fix him, to will him into perfection with every ounce of me. How could there be anything wrong with my child that I could not fix?
How can there not be answers? How can I let this be? How can I fix this?
Everyone wants their child to have perfect health, to have a perfectly beautiful life filled with perfect experiences and perfect things. Why would anyone want anything less than the ideal for their child?
There are so many worse things that my child could be going through, much deeper waters with distant shores. I tell myself that so many times, but it doesn't ease the pain. It doesn't take away the yearning for how things should be.
And like a brick wall, I smack face to truth. I remember that I was never promised perfection. I was never promised a child whose body worked perfectly...in this life.
Someday, all things will be made right. Maybe it will be this side of heaven for Teddy, maybe it will not. I do not have the answers, but I do know that God has promised to make all things new. While we struggle with many forms of imperfection, disease, brokenness here, one day all the hurt will be taken away and beauty will rise from our ashes.
Although I wait for the day, yearn for the day when all things will be made right, the fact is I am still here in the muck wrestling with the why and struggling to release my little ideas of perfect.
My child's imperfection is out there in the open for people to see, but he really isn't so different from anyone else. Although his scars, his brokenness are on the outside, he is walking the same path of our shared human condition. We are all hobbling along, some of us hiding our imperfections deep inside, others, like Teddy, wear theirs on the outside where people can ask "what is wrong with your baby?"
Yes, it hurts. Yes, I hate it. But, YES, I have hope.
Is it a mistake that my baby was born this way? No. Although everything about him, about me, about us all is not going the way we planned, it doesn't make any of it a mistake. It doesn't make any of it fair or unfair or make any sense, because in our imperfection we are still fearfully & wonderfully made. We are on purpose.
"I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well." - Psalm 139:14
So, today, I hand over perfection. I hand over my wonderfully made child. I hand over my ideals and my dreams and the way everything "should" be. I let it all rest on Him. I let peace and His promises wash over me and praise Him for the good things He is doing and will do. His works are wonderful, every last detail and "imperfection." May these imperfections bring Him glory with every ounce of us that hobbles or wobbles or shatters. He is more. He is perfect. And one day, we will be too.
