With open hands

The day John Patrick arrived I knew, like all parents, that something wild had just taken a grip on my heart. I found out about 8 hours later when they took him away in an ambulance to a different hospital what it meant to have part of myself feel like it's being taken away. But I also wanted him to go as quickly as possible because I knew it was best. I remember thinking, "He's yours God. Protect him and heal him. Do whatever is best for him."

A few months later when all was well with his health and we were enjoying a wonderful bible study at our home, I remember breaking down in tears all alone in the office. Thanking God for John Patrick and pleading that he reach his heart and open his eyes to Jesus' saving work on the cross.

There have been many moments between then and now where I've crept into his room after he was asleep and rocked him and cried over him, full of love and not knowing what else to do.

Here's the thing, pregnancy hormones blazing, I'm losing it over here trying to let kindergarten arrive in three weeks. It doesn't matter if I'm reading over the list of school supplies or trying on uniform pants, I'm taking deep breaths so I don't scare John Patrick.

It's not that I don't think, just like in the hospital that first night, "do what's best Lord, please" It's just that I don't think I've ever realised how tightly I've gripped him (all of them) in my heart. I want what's best but really, couldn't I be with him every moment of every day? (hear the sarcasm, please)

I could go a million ways with the rest of this post but I'll save you all the confusion my husband patiently endures.

My point is this: When my focus comes away from remembering the ruling God that saved me and loves me is on his throne... When I forget the promises he has for his people have never failed... I start to panic!

All of the sudden my heart lives for this child and I can feel time itself running away with my baby and I can't get a grip on it and I panic!

BUT when I remember that while I was running hard away from Him, selling myself to anything for moments of love that never really quenched the thirst... and He stepped in and opened my eyes to TRUTH. He took the punishment, he took the blame, for all my disbelief and selfishness and he requires NOTHING but peace-filled obedience in return and he will stand interceding for my forgiveness forever.... oh people.

I know that this may seem ridiculous to some. It's kindergarten you say. Actually, it's one of these moments I'm starting to realise are gifts as much as they hurt. He's just using kindergarten to show me more of where my heart doubts.

So, I cannot say I will cry any less but it doesn't sting quite the same. Knowing if he peels back another layer of my sinful heart I'll learn more of his amazing grace. And John Patrick, in the mean time, will be exactly where he should be, held tight in my Father's arms. (Although a little sad that he doesn't get to ride a school bus... maybe I should talk to him about idols of the heart? :-)