The Garden

I am a dog. I'm not sure what kind. I am definitely not a pedigree, but I am certainly the fiercely loyal kind, as most dogs are. I have been brought to a garden. It is beautiful. 

There are big lucious beds of flowers, and green lawns. I am happy. 

But then I look again, and I realize there are large dark walls around the garden. Suddenly the garden seems small, and the walls unscaleable. The walls cast big shadows, making the garden feel cold and uninviting. I wonder how anything will survive without enough sunlight.

I am afraid. I put my tails between my legs,and curl into a ball. I whine: a low, soft, lonely sound. It echoes, making a soft wailing reverberation around the garden. 

And I wonder where my master is? Why he left me here? Why isn't he fetching me and taking me to a large open park somewhere that I can run and be free? Where he can throw a ball for me, and pat me, and love me? Have I been a bad dog? I can't understand it. I am confused. 

I hear a sound. I think it may be my Master. I go to the door of the garden. I scratch the door. At first, it's just a gentle scratch. I fear I may be wrong at first. I scratch a bit, just near the bottom of the door, where the sound is no louder than a mouse. Then I wait. Yes, there's definitely someone there. 

I stand a little straighter. I sniff a little. I am cautious. Then I scratch some more. This time louder. I make small whinnying sounds. And the noise from the other side is louder. I think he hears me now. 

So I bark. I bark loudly. Oh, the joy! I know he hears me! I hear the boldness of his footstep, I feel the heat of his hand on the door handle. And, as I watch the doorknob turn, I know finally that I am free. He came. Yes, he came for me.

Day 25

The thing that keeps striking me over and over again, is how in the past I have "surrendered things to God" or how I have "trusted God" for things to happen, or how I have prayed for "His will" over my life. And yet I have always maintained a degree of control. I could always fall back on me if I needed to- and that was comforting! Is that a faith thing? I think the faith preachers will tell you that I lack faith. I don't think it's that at all. I am meerly human, and giving something completely over to Someone else, is not in our human nature to do.

I look at all the options that I have available at my disposal, and I can honestly say that not one will first and foremost alter the outcome of Mikayla's life, and our circumstance- and secondly, not one will even provide any kind of comfort for us. For example, I thought about going to a neurologist to see how well developed or under developed her brain is. But the reality is that nothing he says will be of any use to me: For example, if he told me that her brain is underdeveloped, I will be thrown into dispair at the thought that my daughter isn't able to engage with me on the level that another child is able to, making her time here seem that much more futile and sad. But the other side to that is that if they tell me her brain is fine, I will be thrown into dispair at the thought that her brain functions well, and yet she still won't survive this- because statistically that isn't a possibility. That's the hardest part: Mikayla's outcome... the length of her life... is not determined by me, or the doctors, or how well or unwell she is, or anything else. Quite simply, God is the only One who determines how long Miks will be with us. I simply have no choice but to trust in His will for her life, and for ours. My prayer is two fold: for one, I am desperate that she doesn't suffer. It is my greatest fear that this poor innocent little being could suffer at the hands of this cruel world... that would destroy me. But my prayer is also that God would give Russ and I the strength so see through these days... the capacity to cope. Because I simply cannot cope on my own. Also the grace to see this through. I read letters and emails and blogs of other people in times of suffering, and they all seem to carry a grace about them through their suffering, that I simply don't feel I have. Quite frankly, sometimes I am downright nasty!

I will say, that there is no doubt in my mind that Russell and I have managed this far only by the grace of God. And Mikayla does well only because of her fighting spirit, and because God isn't quite finished working through Mikayla just yet. I am not saying that I necessarily always find comfort in all of the above. I would be lying to you if I tried to make out like I was a super saint, and only had positive thoughts, but I know that I can cling to Someone who DOES know the bigger picture, even when I don't. And one day, perhaps, God's picture of my daughters life, and the purpose of her life, will become abundantly clear. Until that day, I will continue to grasp out for God's hand. Because His shoulder's are a whole lot broader than mine, and His grasp a whole lot stronger and more capable.

Tiny feet