I've been blest again recently to have this absolutely amazing blog shared with me:
This is the story of faith filled parents who have recently given birth to a beautiful baby girl named Nora, who has Trisomy 18. Despite doctors telling her mother before birth that she was "incompatiable with life," Nora arrived safely and is now 16 days old and is continually blessing and ministering to her family and complete strangers (like me) alike. I thought this reflection from Nora's mother was meaningful for me and was well worth sharing with you.
I try to think back to an occasion or time in my life that it was of benefit for me to have worried or to have been fearful of the future. I can’t come up with anything. Of course it is our human nature, primal instinct, maybe even a survival mechanism? I suppose it is appropriate to be “worried” about a tornado during a tornado warning, or sharks in shark infested waters. It’s when we mull over things in our minds, imagining and fretting about all of the “what ifs” and worse case scenarios as they relate to instances and situations in our lives and the lives of our loved ones. I can only describe that type of worry as self-induced misery. When we are so used to that way of thinking it is almost impossible to let go of that worry. By letting go of it, we somehow feel out of control. But are we really in control any way?
This morning as I walked through my bedroom with this sweetest of baby girls in my arms, I looked down at her. We were standing in the same spot where I had fallen to the floor 3 months ago, screaming in sheer angst over the news I had just received… “incompatible with life” echoing in my head. If only I could have had a glimpse 107 days into the future. All of the fear, anger, worry in that moment would have been alleviated to see this sweet girl. But life doesn’t work like that. We’re only able to live in the present moment. In the present moment we have the choice of self-induced misery or we can let God simply be in control. In the situation we were suddenly thrust into, I feel like I didn’t really have a choice. There was JUST NO OTHER WAY but to give it to God. It was too incredibly tormenting to handle something like this on our own. If God can handle the big things like this, why should it ever cross my mind that he couldn’t handle the little things?
Praise the Lord for His goodness and faithfulness :-)
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