{Handing Over Perfection}

Today I will hand over my beautiful little boy to a surgeon.

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.

{He Already Knows}

It has been months since I have sat down to write, so many things have begun and ended and snuck onto the pages of my days.

A few nights ago, I woke up to the grunting of a hungry baby. The house was quite, except for he and I quietly rocking in the well loved rocker. His long eye lashes fluttered and I prayed to never forget this moment just as it was. 

And then, so gently, as it always is- the feather light whisper of a call to write it all down again, persevere it for the day when my boys can understand and together we can taste and see the goodness that was always with us. 

These are bone weary days. Fear has crept into my home, my heart. Uncertainty and worry threaten my steps daily. As I seek to keep my eyes focused on what is true and lasting, I am comforted by this: 

He already knows.

One of our little men has been fighting a quite, faceless battle in his little body for almost a year- one we can not see or give a name.

We have been blessed beyond measure with doctors who care deeply, refuse to give up and astound me with the depth of their knowledge and skill. But, even they can not call it by name right now. 

At times, the fear, the overwhelming hopeless pricks of the unknown bring me to my knees in worry, the tears burn hot on my cheeks and remind me of how fragile our human bodies are in this broken world. 

And then again,so softly the words brush my thoughts in the loneliness of the wee morning:

He already knows.

When as faulty, broken, arms flailing humans we search desperate for an answer, there is One greater than us, than this darkness creeping in, who knows. He sees the places we have not yet ventured. He knows us, created us bit by bit, and nothing is lost to Him. 

He knows, He knows, He knows...

As I press on into this new day, there is renewed hope, there is comfort in knowing that as we wonder through these dark days He sees us, He knows us, He gave himself for us so that even when we walk through the valley we can fear no evil. We rest in the promise that when every thing feels broken, we are safe in His arms.

Though our bodies may fail us, we know there is more. There is nothing that can separate us from His Love, the eternal parts of us can never be taken. Fear can not find us there, sickness can not taint that part of us, we are more, we are His. 

We are known and always have been, intimately by the One who sees and know it all- and loves us still.