Listen

I just finished reading through a blog site I learned about earlier today from Angela Huntman - Josh's cousin's wife. I originally published it on the prayer blog, but after reading through it (definitely visit, but make sure you have some time) I wanted to mention it here too. It was published by a family who found out at about 6 months gestation their daughter was a trisomy 18. http://conorbootheandgirls.blogspot.com/

Many of you know this, but we went through a few agonizing days fearing this would be our diagnosis. Our maternal fetal specialist felt we were at high risk for a chromosomal anomaly and with the markers they found on the ultrasound, trisomy 18 seemed to be at the top of the list. I remember at the time, we said we wouldn't have an amnio and it didn't matter, we would just take things as they came. But when we were there in the office, having our worst fears confirmed from the original ultrasound, we knew we couldn't wait four and a half more months to know what we were up against. The wait for the early amnio results was excruciating. I told myself that I wouldn't go online, but then I thought I would find all sorts of "evidence" that would prove them wrong - I didn't really need their results b/c I would research on my own and come up with proof that everything was fine and there were other logical explanations for what the doctors saw on the ultrasound - it would all resolve in time. What's the phrase about Denial?...a river in Egypt?...you get the idea. Well, everything I found took us right back to Trisomy 18. The amnio was done on a Tuesday and we had the first results 8 days later - the big chromosomal defects had been ruled out, but I knew they would be...

I have digressed from the original point of this post - the other blog. As I was reading their words about their own experiences, it took me back. Our actual similarities end with the waiting period from the amniocentesis and the delivery of the results, but the way the mother told their story, it just resonated so deeply. She wasn't afraid to share everything. She mentioned time and again that she could say things through the keyboard she could never say in person. If I try to say that I am not a talker, most of you will laugh yourselves to the floor - if you know me, you know better! But I've also got a gift for "meandering" in my words to the point that what I meant to say, or what I should have said can get lost - or there are certain things that are just too hard to verbalize. I know I can't put words together so beautifully as she did, but her courage in sharing inspired me to share one story that I have kept private to all but a handful.

Ever since I was about 10 years old, I believed that when God spoke to me, he did it through song. Why not? I grew up in a home where music - all different types and genres - was part of life. How many have actually heard His voice? I think for most of us regulars, it is subtle. Maybe a timely phone call from a friend or loved one, or kind words from a stranger. Maybe you felt the Sunday sermon was directed at you, or your child did something unexpected and precious (like finding pink beads on the playground and saving them just for you). I think God speaks to us in many ways and we have to find a way to be quiet and listen. He is our Father, but he seldom grabs us by the chin and pulls our eyes on His and says "Listen to me..." It's up to us to stop and pay attention, or we'll miss it. The way it has worked for me in the past have been times when I heard a song, just at random - not one I picked out to listen to at that moment - and knew it was meant for me to hear at that particular time. There are 4 examples of when this has happened, once when I knew Josh was the man I was to marry (he's the only person I have shared this one with, so I will leave the rest of that story just for us - just trying to establish that this is infrequent and powerful) and the most recent was when I knew Gabriel would be ok, eventually. It was a Saturday night, after the amnio, but before we had any answers. The boys had gone to bed and Josh had gone to work. I had spent hours on the internet, having my worst fears validated. I had finally gone to bed, but couldn't sleep for all of the noise in my head, so I turned on the TV. Since I hoped to fall asleep soon and didn't want to get caught up in a movie or other show, I turned the channel to CMT. It was on, but I wasn't really paying attention, just letting my thoughts wander. I began to pray. Until that moment, I hadn't been able to pray - I didn't know what to pray for. I knew what I wanted but I knew it didn't work that way. We don't just ask for things and *poof* there you go. But there, in that moment, I was honest with God. I wanted our son to be fine, I wanted that more than I could say, but above all I didn't want him to suffer. I had a feeling that this wasn't all just going to go away as I had originally thought it would. I prayed for strength to face whatever we had to face. I prayed for grace to accept whatever we had to accept. I gradually became aware of a song I had heard countless times on the radio, but had never seen the video. It is a song about romance and I had never thought about it any other way, but as I watched the scenes flashing across the screen with the music, it all changed with one verse. Craig Morgan was singing "I can't imagine one day without you in it, life alone just wouldn't be worth living. Love would be a wish that never came true. Lord knows I've got more than I deserve but I don't question the prayers I've had answered. I did something right cause baby I got you". As I said, I've always thought of it as a love song for couples, but during this verse there flashed a scene of a young boy playing baseball. Then I knew. I knew that whatever happened, whatever we had to face, we would see our son grow up. Isn't it ironic that I have never seen that video again. Just the one time. Even when we were at Gabe's bedside and he was being baptized, and we all knew the grim reason for his baptism, I held on to those words and that image and I just couldn't accept that we had come so far just to let him go. Even the next day when Dr Rouse approached us and we knew the words he would speak at that moment would either offer us hope, or dash it all, those words played through my mind. I don't know why prayers are answered so differently, why some are answered and others don't appear to be. Just that we aren't meant to question it. Oh we will, it's our nature. And I think we do get answers, sometimes, if we listen very carefully.