The mystery of grace

Ryan has a heart catheterization tomorrow.

I can see the looks on their faces as I tell them this… the other mothers. Their looks of concern and promises of prayer.

The fear is palatable.

It’s not our first time around the block. We’ve been here almost a dozen times before. While we know there are risks – big ones (stroke, death, internal bleeding, emergency surgery to repair broken vessels or intervene with complications) – we also know that we are held by the One who covered Ryan’s heart from the very start.

I know what these women are thinking. I know because I look at friends who’ve lost their husbands recently, one to needless violence and the other to a long battle of illness, and I wonder how in the world they find the courage and strength to get out of bed in the morning. H.o.w. i.n. t.h.e. w.o.r.l.d. ?

God’s grace is an interesting thing. It’s personal. It’s intimate. It’s daily.

It reminds me of the manna God sent to the Israelites walking in the desert – hungry and complaining about how great they had it while they were slaving away for hard, cruel masters in Egypt. Ones that benefited from the sweat of their brow and didn’t hesitate to beat them and kill their children. Did you read that? Systematically throw their baby boys into the Nile River to be eaten by crocodiles or drown.

I don’t understand how that’s better than being hungry in the wilderness.

Oh how easily we forget, because I can be just like those Israelites…

There they are – hot and hungry… sweating their poor little heads off and trying to soothe their hungry children. God hears them and sends manna.

God tells them bread will drop from heaven (To think I was excited to eat cookies from the White House… think how exciting it would be to eat bread from heaven!!)

Here are His guidelines:
~ It will fall daily to supply their needs.
~ They are only to gather what they need.
~ They cannot store it up.

Many in the camp adhere to God’s rules. They have faith He will send manna every single day as He promised. They gather what they need and not one bite more.

There are some, however, who have post-traumatic stress syndrome. They’ve gone without and can’t bear the thought of going hungry again. They can’t bear the thought of telling their children there isn’t anything to eat. They can’t stand the idea that their stomachs will grumble on empty and they won’t have the tiniest morsel to satisfy their basic needs. So they sneak through the camp and gather manna enough for today and a little for tomorrow…. and maybe a little for the next day too.

How many of us try to do this in our daily lives? God tells us He will clothe us and feed us and meet us where we are to carry us through, but we can’t bear the thought of not being able to provide for ourselves on our own. Like willful children we say to the Creator of the Universe “I do it!”

And like the manna the stubborn Israelites tried to hide away, our attempts mold in our glass jars and grow stale in our mouths.

Peace comes from trusting that God is not only our provider, but also our sustainer. He carries us no matter what storm rages, whether it’s complications from a heart catheterization or a case of head lice crawling through the elementary school (gag!).

God grants us a daily dose of grace that empowers us to push through. He promises to be with us as we cross the dangerous streets and swim the murky waters. All we need to do is reach out and grab His outstretched hand.

I used to think I lived in denial of the seriousness of our situation, but the more I delve into what keeps me sane the more I realize I’m not in denial but resting in the hand of the One who created Ryan and formed him in my precious womb.

There is no reason to fear. I can’t change what will happen anyway. No matter how much I worry, or lose sleep and fret. I can hand this baby over to God or I can hold on so tightly we all are strangled by fear.

These mothers look at me in awe of the strength and faith I exude, but honestly, what they’re seeing is a glimpse of the grace I’m receiving from God.

This doesn’t mean I don’t have butterflies in the pit of my stomach when I hand my child off to the doctors.  Or that my dear, sweet friends don’t hide in the privacy of their bathrooms, curled up in the fetal position crying their eyes out for the ache of wanting their beloveds. All it means is that we don’t have to walk this path alone. That we have Someone walking with us, guiding us, holding us, comforting us.

And isn’t that what all of us want…. someone just to be with us in the moment? Knowing how we feel and telling us it will be okay.