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6 weeks ago my son began to complain that his ankle hurt.
Now, he is a typical 3 year old. Rambunctious. How far can I jump? How high can I jump? How high is the piece of furniture that I can jump off of?
His legs have the bruises and scrapes, scratches and cuts that accompany the fun that children have, and somehow we have forgotten as we get older, except when things seem safe, and secure--like a zip line with a harness, helmet, 2 carabiners and climbing rope that could successfully catch a cow when dropped from a 12 story building by a guy laying down on the ground, anchored into a 150 year old oak tree, with his pinky finger. This seems to be our excuse for adventure and exploration as we age. My son believes the cow should be free to experience adventure freely; otherwise known as the process of obtaining ground beef the hard way.
Because of this adventurous mentality, and lack of experience with painful impacts and that crossing into the mind of the 3 year old yet; we chalked up the ache to a udderly souring experience of gravity beats foot.
Three weeks later he still was complaining, and we began to wonder if there was more to this complaint than milking it for sympathy. The next week his knee on that same leg was added to his complaint, and then at the end of the week his hip.
When he woke up the next morning with a club foot, and a distinct limp, and no desire to run and explore the effects of gravity and mooovement we were greatly concerned.
I know that I have heard parents talk about exchanging place with their child, and wanting to do whatever it took to make sure their child was healthy and happy. I have heard of parents sleeping on the floor next to their sick and ailing child to be there, to make sure that they were still breathing. At that moment--watching my little boy limp with a club foot, wincing with pain, and yet trying to climb up on the couch to give me a good-morning hug I began to feel a concern grip me that must have been familiar to parents who have dealt with a sick or injured child.
After getting off the phone with the doctor, who by the way must have been hit by that cow because it took so long for us to get an actual human to call us back and talk with us, (Good thing they were at a hospital to treat whatever beef related injuries they had huh...) I heard my wife say that it would be three days before they would see my son.
There are a few things that frustrate me--not caring for someone in need is one of them. Maybe it was my parent/fleshly-heart, maybe a passion for justice and mercy that God has been growing in me since living among a people who it takes the ambulance 30 minutes to come to the rescue of a shooting victim and 20 minutes to send a patrol car when 911 is called, but I was bent.
Helplessness is a humbling feeling. Thank God we are not helpless, and that He is sovereign. That simply means that He is God. Yeah, it's repetitive. I'm sure that's why theologians used such a big and majestic term to help us get the point. God is God--and He does God things. Therefore, do not fear.
So, we prayed.
God, heal our little boy. Actually, your little boy that you have given us to disciple and train up to know and love you by following you obediently with his life by watching our life reflect you. Your will be done, and your kingdom come Father, in Jesus name, amen.
There is something about sitting in God's lap, just being with Him that un-nervingly brings order out of the chaos of life.
Humbled; I remember that this little one is God's and we are responsible to disciple him to follow Jesus, and we are to do that by allowing him to see us obediently following Jesus, even in the midst of helpless fear and anxiety.
Encouraged; God loves this little boy, and the love that we have for him is a gift from God above. Looking into the face of God we remember, God is sovereign. Peace. Somehow remembering God is God and that He does God things brings peace.
Thank you Jesus.
At the doctors appointment we hear things...possible fracture, slipped growth plate, dislocated hip. Things that would make me wish for the job of catching the falling cow with my bare hands. Things that aren't easily solved. Things that call for more tests and more time to wait. There is a change in gait, and a favoring of that leg. Is one leg shorter than the other? (Have you ever tried to measure the length of the legs of an unusually ticklish 3 year old boy? Funny the first 3 tries, then the resident's humor sours...)
We end up getting x-rays.
Wait another week we are told.
In the dark of night you remember things that were said by folks, that for some reason you weren't able to process at the moment that they were said. (Maybe a wriggly little boy giggling distracted me then...) But, now they are clearly heard. "Has he been sick?" How many people have asked me that...2, no 3 now. "Did they do bloodwork?" Man, 3 or 4 asked me that... What do they know that I don't.
Growing up in a hospital family I have learned that there is this attitude of, "we know something you don't know, and it is better for you not to know--I'm the doctor and I said so that's why" that I rebel against like an angry bull and a red cape, especially in the middle of the night, and we are talking about my little boy here.
God has said, "never will I leave you, never will I forsake you; I will be with you always, even to the end of the age." God...what's going on?
God's peace is an amazing gift. Sometimes that comes with a settled-ness from sitting in His presence, and other times God sends folks to come and sit with us and be His presence. This is the gift God gave us for the next week.
The morning came of the pediatric orthopedic specialist appointment. Names like that either bring smiles like, 'blackened new york strip steak done medium rare'; or, they bring about ominous feelings of dread. Maybe that's another reason to have words like "Sovereign" to explain that God is still God.
"There is a condition...toddler fracture...more x-rays..."
Now, the limp was not there by the morning of the appointment. This was encouraging, very encouraging to say the least. The complaint of pain hadn't been heard for 2 days--which was good. Now we find a specialist telling us that this is the classic pattern of a little boy who has broken his leg, and immediate tests need to be done to determine if this is the case. We will know by seeing if today's x-rays show new bone growth from last weeks pictures.
Again I lay my son down on a table, and have to leave him in the care of a medical person, and leave the room. Without prayer, without knowing that God is a good daddy; I don't know how I would deal with that. Sitting behind a wall, able to see my son's leg, hearing the buzz of the machine, I know that God is good, I know that His will is done, and I know His peace.
I too had to lay my Son down. I too know what it is to have to deal with great dis-ease, brokenness, and ailment. I too know the pain and anxiety of children in distress. Know how much I love.
Grace. Grace from a Daddy-God, procured by an obedient Son, facilitated by a ministering Holy Spirit. Grace that heals, that restores, that brings....peace to a broken relationship with my Daddy-God. My brokenness came from my disobedience, my foolishness, my rebellion. I had wounded my Daddy, and spit in His face. His Son took my place. Paid my debt. Bore my shame. Took my pain. My Daddy God's Son....died.
For me...so I could live and be adopted by Daddy. So I could become apart of His family, join Him on His mission of peace, and one day, be home with Him forever.
Grace. Nothing I can do to get it. I don't deserve it. Yet, He freely gives it, by faith received, a new whole life in Him to live. Peace.
Thank you Daddy, thank you for your peace.
I take my son in my arms and wait.
The doctor returns...
"There is nothing wrong with the leg that we can see at all, it looks just like it should."
