I grew up in a Christian family. Almost every time the church doors were open, we were there. My parents were very active in the churches we were part of growing up. Even when I went off to college, I chose an extremely conservative Christian college to attend for my undergraduate, and we were required to go to church on the weekends. I didn't know any other life. Church was part of who I was. I was saved at a young age, but, unfortunately, I later became complacent and lost the interest and zeal I once had for God and being part of His family. After college, I started attending church less and less and I began to spend less time in the Word. I would use the excuse that I was so busy during the week, I needed time to "rest" on the weekend. Then, I would feel just awful about skipping church. I found myself grouchy and snappy at times because of the guilt I was feeling. I felt empty. I had stopped having the quiet times I was accustomed to having. It wasn't a pretty time.
Eventually, children came along. With our first, God allowed a medical issue to get my attention. Our son's head was measuring off the charts, but he didn't have any physical signs of hydrocephaly. The doctor, out of precaution, ordered a CT scan. The scan showed that he had an arachnoid cyst on the left side of his brain. We were then referred to a pediatric neurosurgeon who ordered an MRI be done to give more information about what was going on. The MRI showed this cyst to be the size of a small fist in his little head. Keep in mind, he wasn't even a year yet, so that was large for his size. It was compressing the left side of his brain so much that it couldn't be ignored. He was going to need surgery. The next tough choice was deciding which surgery to do: put in a shunt, which could run the risk of infections later and might need future surgeries for replacement or go in and excise the cyst referred to as "craniotomy with fenestration." As a mom, that craniotomy sounded scary. I didn't want that, but I also didn't like the idea of a shunt and the possibility of infection and future surgeries.
The doctor took the case to the team of doctors in his office and they were split down the middle over which way was better for our son's particular case. My husband called around to several renown hospitals and children's neurosurgeons to try to get an appointment. It's hard to get in to see top surgeons because of their busy schedules. God, in His graciousness, even though I had been pushing Him aside, opened up an appointment with a surgeon at John's Hopkins who was known for his successful separation of conjoined twins. We took a day trip up to see him, and he had no questions about which way to go...the craniotomy. Yikes! That scared me to death because it carried more risk of death during surgery since it was so close to one of the main arteries in the head.
We chose the craniotomy and proceeded with getting the surgery scheduled. My feeble, "mom" mind began racing. I didn't want the surgery to happen until after his first birthday, so he could at least have the chance to turn 1. We scheduled it for after his birthday, which then put us very close to Christmas. Based on the type of surgery, we were looking at possibly spending Christmas in the hospital because he would be in ICU for a few days before being transferred to a regular room.
The day of surgery came. I can still see it so clearly in my mind. I had to have my husband sign the paperwork, because I couldn't even handle reading and signing it. I was an emotional mess. It had already been enough to watch him being poked and prodded for the scans and pre-op blood work. Thankfully, I didn't have to watch as they put the IV in him and got him all hooked up and ready. They gave him some "happy" medicine so he wouldn't cry when they took him from me. We couldn't even handle staying in the waiting room. The surgery was expected to take about 3 hours or so. My hubby took us (myself and my mom who had come to be there and help) out for a little while. Surgery ended up taking a little longer, but it was successful. We were able to be in with him when he woke from surgery. I remember calling the school where I worked to tell them that the surgery was successful, and they told me that they had held a moment of silence at the hour in which our son went into surgery. When I heard that, I had a hard time holding back the tears. This was a public school, yet I knew there were teachers and staff there praying along with us for the surgery. I may not have been part of a church at the time, but God used the people I worked with to minister to me.
I stayed with our little guy that night and my mom and husband went back home. I spent most of the night holding him because he was uncomfortable. He was wiggling so much, he managed to pull out one of the IVs in his leg. As the night moved on into early morning, however, I began to be so exhausted from lack of sleep and all the emotions of the past month, that I began to get sick. I had the nurse call my husband and ask him to come.
My husband and my mom came and relieved me so I could go get some rest in the room the hospital had for parents to sleep. A couple hours later, my hubby comes in to get me, and he's all excited saying, "You've got to come see this!" Of course, the first thing in my mind is something's gone wrong. He just had surgery; that's the only thing racing through my mind. We get back into the room, and my little trooper was standing up with a big smile, throwing toys over the side of the crib he was in. I had no words at that moment. He was hungry and ready to eat, too. We had to be careful, though with all the medicine that was in his system, that he didn't get sick when he ate. He had just transitioned to regular milk, and I was able to sit and feed him a little bit at that time while we waited on the doctor.
Later, one of the doctors in the group (not the one who performed the surgery) came in to see how he was doing, and he saw him being a "normal" 1 year old boy except he had all these tubes on him which were hindering him from playing like he wanted. The doctor said that he was amazed at how great he was doing and he had no cause to keep him there. The thoughts going through my head as I was too dumbfounded to speak: Excuse me? He just had surgery on a cyst on his brain less than 24 hours ago and you want to send him home?! He's supposed to be in ICU for a couple days and then move to a regular room, and you want to send him home today?! How am I going to take care of him? What if something happens? My wonderful hubby asked all those questions for me as I was paralyzed to speak at the moment. We ended up taking him home, less than 24 hours after surgery with some pain medication to give him if he got uncomfortable.
I'll tell you what: children are resilient, but God worked a miracle in his little body. He was our Christmas miracle that year in more ways than one. God knew how to get my attention, and He got it. He never once gave up on me. He continued loving me even though I walked away from Him for a little while. He had to get me to a point of brokenness, however, in order to get my full attention. I had to become broken to realize how much I needed God in my life and how much I needed the fellowship of other Christians. I had become so complacent to the fact that I needed God.
All those times I didn't go to church, I kept having that nagging feeling about getting back into church and reading my Bible. God was quietly poking me trying to get me to turn back to Him, but I was stubborn. Even though I felt awful, I still wanted what I saw at the time as "freedom" and "rest." I will tell you, I have not experienced more freedom and rest than I am today resting in God, digging into His Word, and being involved in church.
In Jeremiah 31:3 the Lord says,
I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with unfailing kindness.
I heard the song
How He Loves Us by David Crowder for the first time several years ago when we were in Orlando. The song really spoke to me because I experienced that love God has for me. As the worship team sang the song, several people came across the stage and shared their "cardboard testimonies." I loved how the church incorporated the cardboard testimonies as the song was being sung because they all pointed to God's love and passionate pursuit of each person. I linked this song title to a video of some cardboard testimonies so if you have time to watch, I'd encourage you to do so.
Today, my son bears a scar on the left side of his head shaped almost like a question mark. It is a reminder of God's everlasting and incomprehensible love, mercy, and passionate pursuit of me.
