A year ago today ...
I walked into the doctor's office for my 20-week ultrasound to find out if we were having a boy or a girl, and several hours later I walked out in a daze. What should have been a 30-minute ultrasound turned into a three-hour ordeal, so Tom left with the boys to get some lunch. When the radiologist finally came into the room, I knew that something was terribly wrong. He murmured something about short limbs and a small ribcage, and my head began to spin.
I walked to the car and told Tom that something was wrong. We were in shock. The radiologist had told me that he just needed to check on some things, but I knew better. I came home and did exactly what I was not supposed to do. I googled the only things that I knew, which included short limbs and a small ribcage, and one small word turned my world upside down: FATAL.
I sat in front of my computer and cried. I could not believe what I was reading. It felt like a dream, no a nightmare. Maybe they were wrong. Maybe he was healthy. Maybe I would wake up tomorrow and everything would be fine. Or maybe not.
Maybe God was up to something. Maybe He was setting us up for a miracle. I remember a friend of mine telling me that she was praying Isaiah 53:5 for our entire family, "But he was wounded for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his stripes we are healed." This struck me as odd. I understood why she would pray for David's healing, but why would she feel led to ask God to heal the rest of us? We were fine. Or maybe not.
About a month ago, the Holy Spirit of God reminded me of my friend and her prayer from Isaiah. It happened as I was telling a very wise woman about my painful journey with David. I sat there with tears streaming down my face, and I told her of my heartache and confusion about how God had called me out of my comfort zone to ask Him for a miracle, only to answer my prayers with a resounding, "no."
I will never forget when she looked me straight in the eye and said, "Rachael, what God is doing in your life is a miracle, if I have ever seen one. You asked Him for a miracle, and you got one. It is not the answer for which you were hoping, but it is a miracle indeed."
People have said similar things to me in the past like, "The miracle is that David is healed in heaven," and "the miracle is that you got to spend seven hours with David." These types of responses always stirred up anger in my heart as I thought to myself, "You are just making lame excuses for God. He does not need you to defend His inaction. He could have healed David, and the fact is that He chose not to do it."
But this time it was different. At that very moment, the Holy Spirit of God spoke to my heart, and I knew that what she was saying was true. Part of God's plan for my losing David was my healing, for "He has torn [me], but He will heal [me]; He has wounded [me], but He will bandage [me]" (Hosea 6:1). In that moment, I began to see that God had broken me to pieces so that He could bring me healing.
And His healing continues to unfold in my life. He is delivering me from my preconceived notions of who He is. He is delivering me from my prior definition of an abundant life. He is delivering me from my fear in order that I might live in true freedom.
And so here I am today, exactly one year later, and although this is not at all where I hoped that I would be, I know that it is exactly where God wants me to be. His plans for healing are immeasurably more than I could ever ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work within me (Ephesians 3:20).
