You've Taken Enough

Tuesday, September 06, 2016

This post may contain a little bit of language, because sometimes a situation presents itself which is so incredulous that mild or cultured language won't suffice. This is one of those times.

It seems like Autumn has come so suddenly this year. One day we couldn't move because the heat was so oppressive, the next we had to wear sweaters out because of the chill in the air.

As I've said before, (HERE), the Fall is the beginning of my own "grieving season". The cooler months were the last I spent with my Beatrix, and they were the months in which her life most affected mine. In the Fall I could feel her moving, yet I hadn't yet lost her. You could say it was the best of our time together. 

As such, it also begins a time of deep sadness for me. Despite my recent introspective religious journey, I still have moments of acute grief -- moments where my rational self truly believes that God has control over it all, and His plan will be fantastic, but my emotional self feels as if God made a mistake in all this. I can't claim to have the desolation of my first few years of grief, but the changing of the leaves definitely makes me more mindful of my loss. 

On that note: in speaking of this, I am setting the stage for a post completely unrelated to me, my Beatrix, or carrying to term.

My current nostalgia has created a hyper-awareness of any situation in which a child is harmed, becomes ill, or is in danger. My empathy becomes almost unbearable, so I avoid the news and much of social media. 

But sometimes, the story of a child who is ill and in danger is one you can't avoid because it's a child you know and love. 

Today I'd like to talk about Meghan. Meghan's mom lost a baby boy, Owen, to Limb Body Wall Complex. That's how we met. 




Meghan has some challenges, and recently needed an emergency open-heart surgery.

And then she needed another emergency open-heart surgery. 

And then another emergency surgery on her diaphragm....

In the space of a week. 

Unfortunately, after the first surgery, she had a stroke. Her prognosis is a mystery for now. 

Did I mention that Meghan is a toddler? 

A toddler who had a stroke last week.

Toddler and stroke don't belong in the same sentence.

Her parents are unsure of what the future holds, and the reality is that the daughter they sent into surgery may never come back to them. 

This family is facing the very real possibility of their daughter not making it through this at all.

Sometimes, enough is enough. 

Sometimes all the comfort a loving God is supposed to give, doesn't translate well into real life situation. I mean, let's be honest: watching your child suffering is counterintuitive to a deeper understanding of God. 




Sometimes we have questions which will be left unanswered in this life -- and sometimes that's not acceptable. 

Tonight I want to know why

Why is my friend's daughter fighting for her life? 

Why is this baby suffering events which an adult would have a difficult time recovering from?

Why is my friend in danger of losing a second child?

I don't want the theology of God's alien will. I don't want a pat answer about why God allows suffering. I don't want anyone to explain the concept of original sin and redemption. 

I just want it to end. 
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The {kind of} worst part? 
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I can't stop believing.

And I mean this genuinely. I can't stop believing in a God who allows children to get sick and die. I can't stop believing in God who allows the atrocity of a toddler having her chest cut open and her vital organs exposed three times in a week. 

And I don't exactly know what that says about me, right at this moment. 

I'd like to believe it is all counted as part of the Victory at the Cross. But I don't know that this is exactly what's happening in my own heart. 

I do know that occasionally I am still so very angry at God, and He seems quite distant. I see a text coming through, and even though the font is incapable of betraying emotion, my friend's fear is palpable. She is once again willing a baby's broken body into healing. She has once again been forced down onto her knees under the hands of a brutal King who may very well take her child. 

What are we supposed to do with this, Lord? What Psalm comforts us when we feel so ever loving hopeless? What verse could ever conceive of coming close to being as cherished as Meghan is, in this mother's heart? 

How are we supposed to keep going in this place, knowing that the world is a place where babies die and toddlers have strokes?

I have a lot of questions today. Not all of them have satisfactory answers. Today I'm having trouble seeing the God who sees me. 


If you'd like to help Meghan's family, they have set up a Gofundme page for expenses related to the repeated surgeries HERE:










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