O.K. Paul is talking about spiritual things, not seeing the future so I am taking this out of context. The point is that we cannot see into the future, we have MUCH clearer hindsight than we have foresight. Colin has shown me that more clearly (yes, I intended to use that word) than perhaps any other event in my life.
Some of you reading this blog know the story of Colin, our grandson, but let me fill in for those who don’t.
Up until 27 months ago, we had one grandchild (Ethan, of whom I have written in the past) and not much hope for additional grandchildren. Then our daughter Becki discovered she was pregnant, at age 43, and not just pregnant, but there were going to be twins.
Her age made her high risk so she had more frequent doctor visits, ultrasounds, etc. To make matters simple, the babies were called Baby A and Baby B. For awhile both babies grew at an acceptable rate for twins, but then came the day when Baby A did not seem to be growing as fast as Baby B. To make a long story short, the doctors determined that Baby A’s placenta had a problem. Becki and John soon had the worst kind of decision a parent could be asked to make.
Baby A would NOT make it to 40 weeks: they could do nothing, Baby A would die but most likely stay in-utero giving Baby B a change to make it to close to 40 weeks and therefore a good chance to grow normally. They could deliver the babies immediately (at 24 weeks) and risk losing both babies (their lungs would not be very well developed), they could wait (from week to week) to give Baby B a better chance, but the risk continued to be losing Baby A. At 28 weeks the doctors said they now had to decide. Baby B finally had a better chance to live outside the womb, they weren’t sure about Baby A, but they(the doctors) would do everything they could.
Becki and John decided to go ahead and at least give Baby A a chance. And so Becki underwent her second C-Section and Veronica (Baby B) and Colin (Baby A) were born.
Roni weighed 3 lbs, 6 ozs, Colin weighed 1 lb, 7 ozs. Both babies were whisked into the NICU, put into preemie incubators, hooked up to every conceivable monitoring device and watched round the clock. And loved!
Roni came home after two months in the NICU, with a monitor for her apnea, Colin remained for 111 days.
The first time Bill and I went to Chicago to see the babies, about a week after they had been delivered, we could only go in to see Colin one at a time. When it was my turn, I stood next to John and peered in at this little bird that had fallen out of his nest. I began to cry and I silently begged God to take this grandchild, this flesh of my flesh, home because I could only see problems ahead. How could this tiny baby, the size of a pound of butter with legs, with tubes coming out of every part of his tiny body, with skin so translucent that you could see every vein, how could he ever be normal? “Please God, spare my daughter, my son-in-law, his big brother Ethan the pain and just take him home.” I never told Becki or John about my prayer.
I admit that my prayers in those early days of Colin’s life were more for his parents, his big brother, his sister. I prayed for those tending Colin, for his obvious pain issues, but I had no hope that he would survive.
I could not see through the glass of the future. I had no hope, I did not even dare to have faith. I did, as I try to always pray, ask God that His will be done. If Colin was to live and have “issues” I knew/know that God knows what is best for ALL of us. And so, ultimately, I prayed that His will be done here, now, on earth, as it is in Heaven. And He DID!
Yesterday Becki called to tell me how proud I would be of my grandson. “Which one?” I asked, knowing full well what she was calling about (I read her blog too). “Colin is walking everywhere. You would be so proud of him.” AND I AM!
I know lots of people have had preemies, some as small as Colin, and they have wonderful stories to tell us as they put their arm around their strapping, 6 foot tall son. Colin is OUR miracle. He is our day-to-day, week-to-week, month-to-month personal miracle. As is Roni. I know that today’s medical community is largely responsible, but I know that God has given them the knowledge, the tools, and beyond all that He has been with Colin every step (yes, I mean STEP) of this journey.
I can only see the future through a glass darkly, but when I turn around and look back at my life I can see so many dark places (sometimes “shadows in the valley of death”) that are bright with God’s sunlight.
And so, once again, I turn to face that unrevealed future with eyes of faith that allow me to pierce that unknown darkness with a certainty that He continues to walk with me day by day, and “My steps have held to your paths; my feet have not stumbled.” Psalm 17:5
We are called to “walk by faith”, and when we can’t see through the dark glass of the future, sometimes it is hard to take that first, hesitant step, just as Colin was hesitant taking his first step, but he did it and now at 21 months, he is walking everywhere! AMEN!
