Some days went quickly and some days went slowly after receiving the news about Foster. After spending a good two hours on the porch reconciling with God, I felt the peace I so desperately wanted. That sounds unrealistic and totally corny, I know. I’m not lying. I woke up the following Saturday, feeling like a huge piece of time had passed. Does that make sense? You’ve had so much happen to you in such a short amount of time you have to look at the calendar and make sure you didn’t miss something? That’s what it felt like.
That week, more like 4 days to be exact, changed my outlook. God changed my outlook. We had a chat and I mean I asked Him a million questions (that control thing again) and He answered with one sentence.
Trust in Me.
I kid you not, that was His reply. Put your money where your mouth is and give it a shot. You don’t have anything to lose. So I did. Feeling that conviction deep in my soul, I made my choice.
You know how when you have something heavy on your mind, you find your thoughts wandering back to it? That didn’t happen. Sometimes, when I am contemplating a decision, I feel the urge to make a plan of action and write down my options. No urge this time. God had given me my peace I needed. He didn’t give me a solution right away, but the peace was enough. I felt like I could function again. I could laugh and smile. Hug my son without feeling guilt. Tease my husband and spray him with the kitchen faucet when he was irritating me (50% of our marriage is one of us bugging the other). I was allowed to breathe again because God had taken the reins.
The following Sunday, once again only 4 days after the devastating appointment, I hurried to make it to church. We live a good 40 minutes (when I drive) or 30 (when Gavin drives) away from town, so there is little room for error. Most of these days I had intense morning sickness so I brought a water bottle with me and some Wheat Thins (the loudest snack in the world by the way). After chugging half the water bottle, I felt the urge to get some fresh air. A strong urge. The kind any mom with morning sickness knows well. The kind that usually means, GET OUT OF MY WAY. I looked up at Gavin ready to ask him to move so I could get out of the sanctuary without turning green. He looked at me and smiled and squeezed my hand. Suddenly, my stomach didn’t feel so bad. I gave a small smile back and decided to let the sickness pass if I could. It passed quickly and my need to run outside the building was stopped. I turned back towards the screen and recognized my dear and talented friend walk onstage. The music started and it hit me how I knew that song.
I froze like a block of ice.
The feeling started in my heart and traveled the length of my Sunday clothes. My skin immediately raised goosebumps and my hair stood on end. She slowly brought the microphone up to sing the first words and I felt the tears well behind my eyes.
She was singing THAT SONG. The song “Forever”. The song that reassured me, that my sons would always be mine, no matter their earthly or heavenly location. The song that reminded me that God was capable of whatever I set in front of Him.
My hands gripped the chair in front of me as I steadied myself and let the tears roll silently down my cheeks. White knuckles stared back at me when I looked down, unable to focus on anything but the conviction in my heart. I had almost missed it. That urge to go outside and get some air almost cost me this moment of silent acceptance that was for me only.
Call it what you want. Call me a liar, gullible, an opportunist, or unrealistic. Our wonderful music pastor, Jeff, hardly ever plays the same thing every Sunday. He has a heavenly gift for combining music in the most beautiful way and unknowingly had given me one of the most precious moments in my relationship with God that I had ever experienced.
He spoke to me. He reassured me. He was sending me a message, loud and clear and just for me. Even now, I think of that moment. It’s overwhelming. My friend, Andrea, who sings that song, has a special way of performing that conveys the deepest possible meaning of those words. You look around when she sings and there are many teary eyes. I’m telling you its not just hormones in my case. It’s the ultimate form of worship to feel that connection with music and God had given me that particular Sunday to connect with Him.
Shortly after the service I sought out our Pastor. Steve is a Godly man who personally baptized Gavin and I two years prior when I was pregnant with our first son. I’ll always be grateful to him, that he didn’t let my 7-month-pregnant-self slip when I came out of the Ninnescah River. So many times over I would listen to his Sunday sermon and wonder how he knew exactly what was on my heart. One day we spoke and he was there when I accepted Christ as my Savior. He’s seen me grow spiritually and was the natural choice for advice and encouragement. Gavin and I found him, and explained the situation. He had been somewhat aware of what we were facing and just listened as I relayed our latest doctor visit. Pastor Steve has the incredibly capacity to simply listen. He told me that he and his dear wife, Shirley, would be praying for us and for baby Foster specifically. He reminded us to keep firm and seek God first. He shared with us how far he had seen us grow and how, with God on our side, we could handle this. At this point, speaking about my sons and their diagnosis was particularly difficult for me. I smiled and thanked him as best I could without breaking down. Churchgoers milled around us reminding me that he had other matters to attend that Sunday. We promised to keep him updated and I had no idea just how invested Pastor Steve would become in our little boys’ lives over the next few months.