This post I wrote last year. Then I added to it, then I pulled it apart and started all over again, then I found the original and reworked it. Then I decided I would leave it for a while. Then... I decided to just put it out there.
I have said to many people that God changed me while I was away. He did.
My faith grew deeper and more real because He grew even more real than 49 years’ worth of knowing Him showed me, and I saw Him in the people with me and the things that happened.
I still can’t put it into words, but this post is simply God in action.
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I'm not sure if he was dying or not.
I'm not sure if he's still alive today.
I'm not even sure he was a he.
I was hesitant to enter the "baby room"... All babies give my heart strings a special tug and I wasn't sure how I'd go in a room dedicated to orphaned babies.
A team member's comment to me just before I went to the baby block that "Jesus is already there" made it less scary and gave my heart a lift.
It was less distressing than I had thought, whether I just fell in love with all the babies - I'm not sure.
There were four rows of four cots each.
Each normal sized cot in which we would place our child lengthways held three or four babies lying in the other direction.
Each little wrapped bundle represented a treasure, and was treated as such.
Preemies, cleft lips, malnourished, limb or other differences, heart problems, Down's syndrome, all were represented in the room.
And each baby had their own distinct personality.
Some played up to the nurses cooing, some lay disinterested, still others fought against their wrappings.
Our directive always simple. "If they're asleep, leave them that way, otherwise, they're yours to pick up".
Walking along the rows of cots trying to give each little person the same amount of attention, deciding which one looked like they "needed" a cuddle most was hard; they all looked like they could do with a cuddle. Not because they looked sad, just because they were babies! And I’m not one to say no to a baby cuddle.
The nurses chatted amongst themselves while they changed nappies, prepared bottles, grabbed babies out of cots and swapped them with those we had in our arms so we could feed them and they could wash or change the other.
They love the babies, that is quite certain.
They love their jobs and they care.
They were happy to share information about each child, and pointed out the cheeky, the boisterous and the pretty.
I'm sure each had their favourite, it would be hard not to.
My attention was drawn to a sleeping baby who didn't flinch or move. His little face looked greyish and he was very still. Despite the rule of "if they're sleeping leave them" I took this one out of his cot, much to the disgust of his fellow bedmate who turned accusing eyes on me. I told my accuser I'd be back for his cuddle later.
As I held this tiny tiny child, his chin the size of the top of my index finger, I stroked his neck and face with my fingers.
His shoulder joint was the size of my base thumb joint.
His little chest rose and fell but he made no noise or movement. I sat down with him so I could see him better, and prayed over him.
I found myself telling Jesus that if he wanted this one to come get him now.
"I'm holding him and loving him, it would be a privilege to hand him over"
His little eyes were closed shut with a sticky something. I gently wiped his eyelids, then kissed them and held him close as I sang to him in a whisper.
" 'tis so sweet to trust in Jesus" came unbidden from my lips to his ears.
Putting him back down across my lap I noticed his little eyes flutter open.
My heart did a somersault and I continued to stoke his face and gently talk to him.
I stroked his head, his ears, his neck. His eyes didn’t meet mine.
Through his blankets, I rubbed his hands, legs and feet.
I fought tears of love...
As I did, I was given words for him. I was lost for my own words, but these came from a place deep inside me.
I whispered to him that God understood.
God understood how sad he was to have been left, and also how hard his life would be.
God knew how much his little bones hurt with no fat on them.
Lying on a mattress with a lot of blankets around and over him ...
the ache of his bones and heart.
But that God also knew and numbered every hair on his head,
every pore of his body
and every part of his future life.
And that God cared and loved him and wanted to be a part of his future.
Wanted it more than anything.
And I prayed that one day someone else would come along,
then another someone,
and another someone,
and they would all add to the prayer and the song I had for him,
and each piece would lead him closer and closer and closer to the Heavenly Father
who would never give up on him or leave him.
...
And he turned his big brown eyes on me and I swear he looked directly into my heart.
I didn't perform or create a miracle - God just let me see and feel His love in a raw and practical way.
And maybe the little one was actually fine, just having a bad day.
Whatever his story, it will continue, and I feel so privileged to have been a part of it. He was placed into God's hands, where could he be safer, where more gently held?
Jesus loves the little children
All the children of the world
Red and yellow black and white
All are precious in his sight
Jesus loves the little children of the world.
Tears. So many tears.
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