Timely Reminder...

Sometimes God speaks in a still, small voice.

Other times, though, it sure seems like he whacks us over the head with a 2 x 4. 

I've struggled at times over the past few years with the whole topic of prayer.  It's not a subject I ever expected to struggle with.  From the time I knew what prayer was, I believed in it, I practiced it, and I watched and waited for God to answer.   Until 3 1/2 years ago.  And suddenly, my prayer life hit the rocks. 

The timing actually would appear odd on the surface.  We had just been through two of the most amazing prayer journeys of my life...the first being Ammah Grace's birth 10 weeks early and subsequent six weeks in NICU, and the second being my dad's last cancer battle and death.  We had the most amazing prayer support ever, and saw God work miracle after miracle and answer prayer after prayer.  We watched Him work in amazing ways even when our prayers for Daddy's healing weren't answered the way we would have chosen.  

We'd been through the fire twice, and survived.  God had been in the fire with us throughout, and had taught us amazing things and shown us awesome things about Himself and His Word.  There had been struggles, to be sure, but overall, we felt stronger than ever. 

Then came July 2006, and the bottom fell out.  And my prayer life was the greatest casualty.

Don't get me wrong...I didn't completely stop praying.  There have been too many loved ones and friends with too many major needs to do that.  There have been times during these years that I have felt a strong burden to pray for certain people and certain needs...and I have.  But my prayer life hasn't been the same, in any respect, as it was before.  

Recently God has been stirring in that area in my life.  There have been improvements, and failures, a few small victories, and mostly ever more struggles.  

And then this morning, the 2 x 4.

The message wasn't anything new or earthshattering.  We had a guest preacher, one familiar and loved in our church.  He is known as much for his brevity as our pastor is for his...well, *not* brevity. :)  But he is solid in the Word, and the message this morning, while probably one of the shortest I've *ever* experienced, hit me squarely between the eyes...with a resounding "THWACK!"

The Scripture was Genesis 18:23ff...the story of Abraham pleading for the people of Sodom and Gomorrah.  Very familiar stuff, since we had covered that very chapter in this week's Bible time in school  (I love it when that happens! :))  It was neat to see the realization dawn in the children's eyes..."Hey, that was our Bible lesson the other day!"  

The topic was intercessory prayer.  Here are a few snippets from my notes:

*Abraham was a friend of God...it should be our heart cry to be the friend of God and to see and be in on what God is doing.

*Abraham was an intercessor, praying for judgement to be kept from those around Him.  

*We are encouraged and admonished in Scripture to be intercessors, to intercede on behalf of others.  

*Intercession involves being consistent.

*God did deliver the righteous before the destruction of the wicked.  God's people are a restraining force against evil.  

*Sometimes selfishness gets in the way of our intercession.  Like Jonah, we don't *want* the wicked to be delivered.  

*Intercessory prayer is hard work, but God calls us to be intercessors...to pray for our country, to pray for each other, to pray for our families.  

*Jesus is interceding for us.  (Heb. 7:25)

A great message with familiar content that many of us need to be reminded of often.

The 2 x 4, though, was in the timing.  

Today was our Ammah Grace's 6th birthday.  Birthdays always bring memories, but Gracie's always brings LOTS of them.  Memories of the midnight ambulance ride to Little Rock in a snowstorm after my water broke at 30 weeks.  Memories of waking up 3 days later to the realization that I was not going to make it another 4 weeks, as they had hoped, before delivery.  Memories of the doctors' grim prognoses...wondering if we would ever get to even take her home, and if so, what kind of health problems and disabilities she would face.  Memories of wanting more than anything to hold and cuddle our baby...to rock her and feed her and do all the things we had done with our older three...and having to be content with watching her through the isolette, and occasionally being able to reach through the portholes and touch her.  Memories of missing my 2, 4, and 6 year olds *so* much as I spent 3 weeks in Little Rock with Ammah Grace before she came home.  Memories, memories, and more memories.  

But as I sat listening to the message this morning, I was overwhelmed by memories of the people who had prayed for Ammah Grace and for our family during those weeks and months.  Overwhelmed also by the memories of the prayers that God had answered in such amazing ways during those days.  Remembering the Christian ambulance crew who took me to Little Rock that night, praying all the way and assuring me they would continue to pray for our family.  Remembering the many trips we made back and forth to Little Rock that year in the snow...and God's provision of safety each and every time.  Remembering being hours away from a neurosurgery consult for her brain bleed after being told that our tiny daughter would need brain surgery, and then a last-minute scan came back showing that the bleed was clearing up on its own, and surgery wouldn't be needed.  Remembering my delight when one of the top neonatogists in the country uttered an amazed "WHAT a miracle!" when he was told that Gracie's had not had to have surgery after all, and that her last scan had come back completely clear.  

There were many people praying for Ammah Grace and for our family during that time whose names I will never know and whose faces I have never seen.  There were many who prayed who encouraged us personally during that time in many ways:

*A lady who called our church office one day and said, "How is that little baby on the sign doing?  I've prayed for her every day..."  (Our church is on a heavily trafficked corner, and our church marquee asked for prayer for Ammah Grace and posted updates for weeks.)  

*Another lady who "ran into" someone from our church and upon finding out what church they attended, asked about Ammah Grace, saying, "I drive by that sign every day, and every time I go by, I pray for her..."

*Our pastor, who called every day, sometimes multiple times, and who never hung up before praying aloud with me over the phone.

*Our homeschool group, who prayed and sent so many encouraging notes in response to my updates to our homeschool email loop. 

*A friend of my dad's who is a true prayer warrior...the first time we went to the grocery store after being released from NICU, we "ran into" him in the grocery store.  He looked at Ammah Grace, and through tears, said, "Let's pray, right now."  So we did.  Right there in the aisle at the Neighborhood Market, we bowed our heads over my grocery cart and he thanked God for the many prayers he had answered in bringing Ammah Grace home safely, and then prayed for her continued good health.  I never will forget the look on the face of the checker who walked by in the middle of our prayer meeting, and stopped to wait until we were finished.  We got to share with her about God's work in Gracie's life, and the many answered prayers we had experienced.  

*Out of town friends, who not only prayed, but visited us in the hospital, and who were such bright spots in those days.

*My parents, who prayed so hard for their tiny granddaughter, and for all of us during those hard days.  I teared up today watching Ammah Grace run up the sidewalk at my mom's house, thinking about how much I wish my dad could see how abundantly his prayers for her were answered.  

*Our other children, who prayed so hard for "Gracie in the hospital" and for Mommy while she was gone.  

*My close friends, who not only prayed, but talked and listened and encouraged and helped in a million ways...especially our friends who had walked a very similar path just a few years before, and who helped us navigate in very unfamiliar territory.  

There are many, many others.  I remember being so excited to find that "Ammah" (which was my great-grandmother's name) means "God's People".  What an incredible reminder of the ways God used His people to pray, and to be the hands and feet of Jesus to us during those days.  As I listened to the sermon this morning, I thought about the many people who prayed for Ammah Grace and for our family in those days, and reflected on the many ways God answered those prayers, and I felt not just stirred, but shaken.  The 2 x 4 brought with it a renewed desire to pray, and a renewed commitment to faithfulness in prayer.  

"This is the confidence we have in approaching God: that if we ask anything according to His will, He hears us. And if we know that He hears us - whatever we ask - we know that we have what we asked of Him" 

(1 John 5:14-15)

"Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus" 

(Philippians 4:6-7)

"…The prayer of a righteous man is powerful and effective" 

(James 5:16)

"And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the saints" 

(Ephesians 6:18)

For more of Ammah Grace's story...

Reflecting on a Miracle

Five Years Ago...

Preemie Awareness Month (from Ammah Grace's scrapbook)

Still Amazed

Incredible Love

Reflecting on a Miracle...

The 2009-10 homeschool year started with a bang today in the Harris House. I'm looking forward to posting more about that (later today, I hope!), but had to stop for just a second on my way to clean the kitchen and expand on my current Facebook status a bit. :) (Those pesky character limits...they get me every time!! ;-))

Today was one of those extra-special first days of school...Ammah Grace's first day of kindergarten. We made a big deal out of it this morning, although in reality, it won't be a huge change...she's been sitting in on school with the "big kids" since infancy. But this morning as we sat on the sofa together working during her individual school time, I was marveling at her bright, intuitive mind, and suddenly had a flashback. I was back in the NICU at UAMS, and Billy and I were having the first of many conferences with our tiny daughter's neonatologists. After they listed all the possible and probable defects for which we needed to be prepared, they added, "We may not know the full extent of her brain damage until she starts school." At that point, although the prognosis was quite frightening as far as disabilities and health problems, we were still just praying she would make it long enough to worry about all of those things. But those words still stuck in my head. The message was clear...we were in for a long, hard ride.

I sat today watching her write "school" in her careful lettering on her quiet time sheet (for what she was thankful for today, after she asked me how to spell it :)), and was blown away, again, by the immensity of the miracle beside me. Not only are we not worrying on this first day of school about what new disabilities may surface, but from the day she left UAMS at 6 weeks old, we have never had one ounce of an indication of brain damage or defect of any kind. (The closest we come to noticing *any* lasting effects of her prematurity are the blue lips and goosebumps she gets when she sits beside the swimming pool wrapped in a towel because the water was "freezing". :))

We were told she might be blind...today she called me to see the almost invisible stripes on the back of a grasshopper on the back porch. We were told she might be deaf...this morning I listened to her sing a melody in perfect pitch after hearing a song once. We were told she might not be able to talk...she chatters like a magpie...constantly...and amazes me often with her vocabulary. We were told to expect motor skill problems...she begs for worksheets to practice her handwriting, and never walks if she can hop, skip, or jump instead. We were told to be prepared for frequent illnesses and even hospitalizations in her preschool years...she's never been to the doctor for anything more than a well-child check-up since she was released from NICU (other than Trip 1 to the ER for a broken arm when her sister fell on her, and Trip 2 to the ER for stitches when she decided if her older brother could jump off the coffee table she could, too. :))

I've shared often the verses from Psalm 40 that my friend Kathy shared with me the night I went into labor ten weeks early. I remember often during those uncertain weeks praying them back to the Lord and asking Him to give us wonders too many to declare, and committing to share those wonders...whatever they were...every time I had an opportunity. He did that, quite literally. So today, again, I share...

I waited patiently for the LORD;
he turned to me and heard my cry.
He lifted me out of the slimy pit,
out of the mud and mire;
he set my feet on a rock
and gave me a firm place to stand.
He put a new song in my mouth,
a hymn of praise to our God.
Many will see and fear
and put their trust in the LORD.
Blessed is the man
who makes the LORD his trust,
who does not look to the proud,
to those who turn aside to false gods.
Many, O LORD my God,
are the wonders you have done.
The things you planned for us
no one can recount to you;
were I to speak and tell of them,
they would be too many to declare.
~ Psalm 40:1-5

5 Years Ago...

Still much to post on all kinds of topics...hopefully after co-op this afternoon I'll have a little more time over the next few days to catch up...but I wanted to get in a few quick "reminiscing" thoughts this morning.

Whenever I was asked for Ammah Grace's birthdate, my immediate response almost always used to be "February 4".  I'm getting better...now I usually just *think* February 4 before mentally correcting myself and then replying, "February 7."  February 4 is the date seared in my memory, and from there the dates all just kind of ran together until March 20, when we finally got to bring her home.

It usually starts on February 3...remembering the conversation I had with my mom that day.  She and my dad were headed to Tulsa for him to see a specialist about some health issues.   A winter storm was forecast, and Mother had expressed concern about leaving, "What if we get snowed in in Tulsa and can't get back and something happens and you need us?"   It had been a very uncomfortable pregnancy, and I wasn't feeling the greatest.  "You'll only be gone two days, even if you do get snowed in Wednesday...it will all melt by Thursday, and what could possibly happen that we would need you before then?  We'll be fine."   The expression "famous last words" seems made for that conversation!

Nothing incredibly exciting on memory lane until late Wednesday night.  Mother and Daddy had gone to Tulsa, and sure enough, the weather had gotten bad there and they ended up spending the night.  Billy and I and the kids stayed home from church because I wasn't feeling well.  We were beginning to get a very light dusting of snow.   At 8:00, Billy started prayer time in the living room preparatory to getting the kids to bed...I was on the sofa and not planning to move anytime soon. :-)   Just as he began to pray, I felt an odd sensation; although my water had never broken naturally in my three previous pregnancies, I was suspicious that that was what had just happened.  

An hour later, we were at the hospital, where Dr. Muylaert confirmed that yes, my water had broken, and I was trying to go into labor...ten weeks early.   They started meds to try to stop labor, and steroids to help Baby's lungs mature more quickly in case they couldn't stall delivery for the four weeks they hoped for.    He calmly informed us that I needed to be transferred...immediately...to UAMS in Little Rock.  "It is much safer to transport *you* before the baby is born than to transport baby after birth."   He then began to explain the various dangers the baby faced.   The whole thing seemed so unreal...like a nightmare from which I couldn't wake up. 

A few hours later, I was in an ambulance on the way to Little Rock...in a snowstorm.   If the weather had been better, I would have been in a helicopter instead of an ambulance.   It was a crazy ride...if you've never been on an ambulance on the interstate, ignoring the speed limit completely, on ice...well, count your blessings. :)  Actually, I was so worried about going into labor that I forgot to worry about the travel...most of the time, anyway.   It's amazing the way God blesses during the scariest of times...Bro. Phil was praying with us when the ambulance crew arrived, and as we walked (well, everyone else walked, I rode flat on my back :)) down to the ambulance bay, one of the guys said, "Well, if it helps at all, know that you're being taken care of by fellow Christians, and we're praying for you."  Did it help?  Wow...what a blessing.  I still get goosebumps thinking about it.  

And I still get teary thinking about watching poor Billy standing in the snow as they put me in the back of the ambulance.  Hard as it was, I had the easy part...he had to stay home and go to work, take care of the kids and the house, all the while worrying about what was going on 2 1/2 hours away with his wife and unborn daughter.  I am so thankful for the help and support, from that moment through the next 7 weeks and then some, of our wonderful family, friends, and church family.  We would never have made it through those days without people who were the hands and feet and voice of Jesus to us in so many ways.  

I'm planning to do a bit more "reminiscing" over the next few days...lots of memories and miracles.  But I'll end this post with the Scripture that I was clinging to 5 years ago this moment.

Our friends Kathy and Justin were some of the greatest blessings God gave during this time...they had been through very similar circumstances (and in fact, I ended up in Kathy's old room at UAMS for a while. :))  A picture of their Joshua...one of UAMS's most amazing miracle babies...was on the bulletin board in the hallway I walked to the NICU to see Ammah Grace after she was born.  It was such an encouragement to walk by that picture and be reminded of God's awesome power and goodness. 

While I was still in the ER in Fort Smith, waiting for the ambulance crew to arrive that Wednesday night, Kathy read me this Scripture over the phone.  It was one God had given them during the long months before Joshua was born, when they were being told not to expect him to live.  I clung to it during the days of waiting before she was born, and the weeks and months of wondering after.   I knew that no matter what the outcome, God was going to give us a new song, and show us many wonders.  

Psam 40:1-5

I waited patiently for the LORD; 

       He turned to me and heard my cry.

He lifted me out of the slimy pit,

       out of the mud and mire;

       He set my feet on a rock

       and gave me a firm place to stand.

He put a new song in my mouth,

       a hymn of praise to our God.

       Many will see and fear

       and put their trust in the LORD.

Blessed is the man

       who makes the LORD his trust,

       who does not look to the proud,

       to those who turn aside to false gods.

Many, O LORD my God,

       are the wonders you have done.

       The things you planned for us

       no one can recount to you;

       were I to speak and tell of them,

       they would be too many to declare.

He has truly given us wonders too many to declare, and we are so thankful!!

Talk About Tuesday and National Preemie Awareness Month

Lara at The Lazy Organizer is hosting Talk About Tuesday, a new "Show-and-Tell-ish" weekly meme. I thought it would be the perfect venue to share the latest new artwork at our house...

Now, I'm *sure* that those of you who know me in real life will recognize the subject of this drawing *immediately*. Yes...you're right...it's yours truly.

Ammah Grace presented me with her first *recognizable* (recognizable as in not just scribbles...not recognizable in that I immediately recognized it was *me* ) drawing yesterday and proudly announced "This is you, Momma!!"

Two arms...two legs...a body, head, mouth, and eyes...I'm not sure if the stuff on top is *hair* or the sky. Anyway, I was quite impressed.

As always, I have to stop and marvel for just a minute...this is the child who was at high risk for brain damage, the child that doctors warned us might have all manner of developmental problems...the child we weren't sure would ever talk, walk, or hold a pencil. She is a reminder every day of God's power and grace and sovereignty, as she runs pell-mell after her sisters and brother, determined to be *just* as big as they are, and as she talks non-stop (16 hours a day, some days :-D).

November is National Prematurity Awareness Month. Here is our little artist today...

(hopping a ride on Bubby's back )

And here's a flashback to a bit over 3 1/2 years ago...

(Photo on the left taken in NICU; photo on the right taken at home, at about age 6 months)To see what others are talking about today, visit Lara at the Lazy Organizer.

Still Amazed

I'm combining a couple of posts today...I wanted to participate in Show and Tell Friday (for the first time), and I found the scrapbook page that I wanted to share on Tuesday (I *still* haven't completely finished my Tackle, by the way, but I *have* made a lot of headway and *did* find the missing scrapbook pages...whew!!), so I thought I would share this scrapbook page as my *show and tell* for today. :) It's a bit long because of the journaling from the scrapbook page...I'm sorry about that!



Last week at Sam's, the girl at the check-out offered to scan our items in our cart, rather than our having to take everything out and put it on the conveyor. Ammah Grace was still in the cart, so Billy said, "We already paid for her." The girl laughed and said, "and how much was she?" and Billy laughed and said, "pretty expensive". The girl said something like "I can imagine," and I laughed then and said, "well, this one was more expensive than most...she spent 6 weeks in NICU at UAMS...so she was *really* expensive." The girl began to ask questions about Ammah Grace and why she was in the hospital so long, so I shared a little of her story. As we left, she said, "She sure does look healthy and happy to have gone through all that." And I was reminded again of how blessed we are.

This page was made before Ammah Grace was 9 months old. The title is "Every Little Thing You Do," and it talks about how every thing that Gracie did just *amazed* me...even though I had seen our three other children do the very same things. After our experience in Sam's the other day, I realized that I am *still* amazed at *every little thing" she does...even at 3 1/2! I don't know that I will ever get used to her being *normal*...I think I will always be in wonder at God's work in her.

Here is the journaling under the flap...

"Any mom of a large family will tell you, if she's honest, that while you love all your children *equally*, you don't love them all the *same*. My love for Peter, my first-born (and only boy), is very different from my love for Bayley, my first little girl. My love for Bayley, the most sensitive of you all so far, is much different from my love for Emlyn, my easy-going, contented child, and the one who reminds me the most of myself at that age. And my love for your three siblings, who were born healthy, perfect miracles, is very different than my love for you, the baby we were afraid wouldn't make it, the baby I sat with in NICU for weeks on end, praying and wondering about what we would face once we finally left those walls. I certainly don't love any one of you *more* or *less*, but my love for each of you is *different* and *special*.

"I see this so much with you. One would think, by the fourth child, that everything would be pretty much old hat. We've done the diapers-bottles-sleepless-nights-first-smiles-first-teeth-rolling-over thing a few times before! But I am constantly amazed at *every little thing you do*. I remember laughing at your Daddy in NICU the first time he got to change your diaper. He was SOO excited to have gotten to change that little diaper. And frankly, I was jealous that it was him, and not me! now, after three other children, I must say that was a first...that we were fighting *to* change a diaper, rather than NOT TO! But when your child is two weeks old and you have not yet been able to physically meet *one* of her needs, you'll take anything...even a smelly diaper! :)

"I also remember sitting in NICU, looking at you in the warmer bed, back when we couldn't even hold you yet...just sit and quietly talk or sing to you...and wondering if I would ever see you smile. The neonatologists had warned that they really couldn't give a prognosis at that point...so much depended on the damage that had already been done by your brain hemorrhage and how it healed from that point on. They warned of brain damage, cerebral palsy, blindness, hearing problems...and the list went on. As I sat and sang to you and prayed, I suddenly realized I might never see you smile at me intentionally. That you might never squeal in delight at your Daddy's silliness, or laugh at your brother and sisters as they played. It was a sobering thought, and although Daddy and I both knew that we would love you no matter what, it was more painful than I can describe to think of what you (and we) might be facing.

"I guess that is why now I am so awed by *every little thing you do*. Although you have been smiling for months now, I still sit and just marvel as you look into my eyes and break into that gummy grin. I am overcome with gratitude when I hear you squealing in delight at your Daddy's silly antics, and I still have to fight the urge to cry every time I see you laughing at Peter, Bayley, and Emlyn as they spend hours a day entertaining you (and thus, you entertaining them as well!)

"After physical therapy yesterday, you were laughing at Mrs. Martha on the way out the door, and she said, "You know, she just smiles with her whole body...how incredible..." I told her about what I had just told Mamoe...that every mother delights in her child's smile, but that when you have experienced the awareness that your child might never be able to smile at you, those smiles are even more incredible. Martha replied that she had just been thinking that very thing...and that we have "come out smelling like a rose" from all of this. We again talked about how exciting it is to think about all the prayers that were said for you, and then to have the results of those prayers smiling up at us, "with her whole body"...what a blessing!

"And what a blessing to experience *every little thing you do*..."

Three years later, it is *still* a blessing...and I am still amazed every time I see her smile!

Incredible Love

We are working on another song by Stuart Townend in adult choir right now... How Deep the Father's Love for Us. The first time we sang it, I thought it was beautiful, and looked down to see who it was written by...and realized it was written by the same person who wrote my very *favorite* song we have done in choir this year (The Power of the Cross). Not only are both of these songs musical *dreams* for an alto (some beautiful low melody parts in addition to gorgeous harmonies), but the words are incredible. God continues to amaze me with new realizations of the true depth of His love. And He continues to remind me of the *truth* and *reality* of His Sovreignty. I have struggled with the Sovreignty of God this year more than any other, but through those struggles, I have become convinced that suffering is indeed necessary for us to gain a deeper understanding of God's love for us.

"How deep the Father's love for us
How vast beyond all measure...

How great the pain of searing loss
The Father turns His face away
As wounds which mar the Chosen One
Bring many sons to glory

...Ashamed I hear my mocking voice
Call out among the scoffers...."

(Exerpted from How Deep the Father's Love for Us, by Stuart Townend)

When we first began working on this song, I had just had a conversation with a friend about God's sovreignty and goodness and human suffering. It is hard for us as finite humans sometimes (all the time?) to reconcile the suffering of children with the Goodness and Sovreignty of God. She shared that it was much easier for her to accept the suffering adults experience than the suffering of innocent children. I have struggled with that as well. We have watched a number of *innocent children* suffer...including our own. We watched our youngest go through intense physical suffering during the first 6 weeks of life, enduring medical procedures that send adults into anxiety attacks, and acquiring scars that may be visible for the rest of her life. Our older children have gone through periods of extreme emotional suffering due to various family crises. I have spent a lot of time pondering why God allows *innocent children* to suffer, both before and after the conversation with my friend. I certainly don't have an easy answer. But God has brought me a long way in this area, and because we are dealing with some long term issues involving the suffering of children, I know that He will continue to lead in this area.

One thing I have realized about the suffering of children is this: the suffering of my children gets my attention faster than anything else. God has taught *me* more through the suffering of my children than through any other suffering I have experienced. I have clung to Him more for wisdom and strength in helping my children through their suffering than I ever would have otherwise. And I have learned more about God's love for us as our Heavenly Father through the experience of watching my children suffer.

When Ammah Grace was still in NICU, I had the most vivid realization of the immensity of God's love for us that I had ever had up to that point. She was several weeks old, and it was our first time to actually be *alone*...she was finally stable enough for me to take her into the nursing mother's area and be in the privacy of a curtained cubicle. I was finally able to just sit with my baby and examine all of her little fingers and toes as I had done with all of my other children in the first few hours of life. As I sat marvelling at how tiny she still was...although she had already gained almost a pound by that time...I noticed something I had never seen on my other children. Scars. Little tiny scars, on her hands, and on her feet. Scars from multiple IVs and other tests and procedures I didn't even want to think about. I was suddenly overwhelmed at how much suffering this little girl had already experienced in her very first weeks of life. I remembered the agony I had gone through a couple of weeks earlier, giving permission by phone for her to undergo a spinal tap...not a pleasant procedure for anyone, much less a tiny baby. I remembered having the crazy urge to jump in the van and drive the 2 1/2 hours to the hospital because I couldn't stand the thought of her going through the procedure alone, despite the fact that the doctor had said they needed to do it immediately. (I had gone home for a week or so to get things settled before going back to Little Rock to stay for the duration of her stay in NICU.)

Tears flooded down my face as I ached for the suffering this child had endured...as I contemplated the suffering that could be still to come for her...and as I realized again my complete and total inability to do anything about any of it. In the midst of my tears, I was suddenly overwhelmed with the thought of another Parent who had wept over His Child's scars. God quietly reminded me that He, too, had experienced the pain of seeing scars on the hands and feet of His Child. He, too, had known the pain of allowing His Son to suffer alone...not being there to comfort Him in the worst time of suffering that He...that any man...had ever experienced.

And then He reminded me of this: He didn't have to.

As I struggled with my total helplessness to control the suffering my child had already experienced and would experience in the future, I realized that God didn't *have* to see His Son suffer. He could have, with a word, released Him from that suffering. Jesus Himself could have called "10,000 angels...to destroy the world and set Him free." But...God willingly watched His only Son suffer and die at the hands of evil men...He turned His face away as Jesus took on the sin of the world that He couldn't even look upon...and He did it for *us*. Sinful, evil, miserable, ungrateful people. People that He loved enough to die for. I realized in that moment that there was no one in the world that I could have *willingly allowed* this little girl to endure that kind of suffering for. I knew that I would have done anything in my power to keep her from having to experience the suffering she had experienced.

And at that moment, I realized in a way I had never realized before how deep the Father's love for us...for me...really is. The lyrics of this song express what I felt that day...and what I feel every time I think about those teeny, tiny scars...so perfectly. What incredible word pictures...about an Incredible Love.