Tips of daffodils break through the dry ground. Warm afternoons tease the brain that spring might be just around the corner. We can only hope. And, oh, to see the sunshine reflect off his bright eyes, how this mother's heart warms full. With an unsteady gait he tentatively explores the drab world around him. A few wobbly steps and a splat to the ground, all mixed with grass and dirt and the beauty of boyhood. And I know the secret that he cannot fathom yet--that this brown world will burst into blossoms and beauty and color! Though we know not when, we hope that it is soon.
We wait patiently, hoping beyond hope that soon, very soon we can throw open the windows and feel the life of spring within the musty house. And, I wait hopefully for another life to fill me once again. "I wait for the LORD, my whole being waits, and in his word I put my hope." Ps 130:5 . Who can know the plans of the Lord? And who can understand the fulfillment of the desires He births within a heart? All I know is that my heart and soul ache to be with child again, to grow our little family. I imagine his alarmed response to a squalling sibling. I see his little fingers pointing out the baby's noise, eyes, mouth. I see him toddle over with toys in hand to share with baby. So many little visions flit through my mind, so clear, so sweet. And my hope grows.
The long hours waiting in a crowded ER, minute hand taunting cruelly--that was a true lesson in hoping beyond hope. Frightened, confused, clenched fists shaking towards heaven. Had we lost this one, too? How many more? How could You? Why did I let myself hope at all? My lips, salty from a flood of tears, mouthed silently a psalm prayer. Psalm 138 The LORD will fulfill His purpose for me; your love, O LORD, endures forever—do not abandon the works of your hands." Lips chanting one thing, the heart fearful of another. Another loss, another letdown, another failure. Do not abandon, do not abandon, do not abandon oh GOD!!! How I wanted this little one to be firmly rooted in "His purpose for me", the beautiful "work of His hands." The long stretcher ride, winding down a familiar path through sterile hallways towards the ultrasound room, where we had spent one summer evening a year earlier--for the exact same reason. That little one had faded so quickly. I wanted to hope this would be different--but there was so much blood. Grasping the siderail and his clammy hand in hopes to brace myself for the worst, my heart stopped when she pointed to the flicker on the screen. A heartbeat? Still? After all that blood?
That same little flicker on the screen now beats rhythmically in the nursery, trying hard to settle down for a nap. These are not easy things on a beautiful afternoon, settling for a nap and settling a doubting, fearful heart. Yet, he manages to hum himself to sleep and I resolve to find my own way to drowned out the doubts. Hoping beyond hope that life will grow once again very soon, another little miracle to teach me a little bit more about faith, hope and love.