Speak to Me

I recently began reading a book called "Called to Be Human - Letters to my children on living a Christian life" by Michael Jinkins, a theologian and Presbyterian minister.

He was writing to his daughter, now an adult, about the night before her open heart surgery, when she was seven years old. In recent weeks I have thought about my faith through this journey and my one foot in hope, one in despair. The following excerpt spoke to what I have been feeling. "The spirit rejoices in hearing what it already knows"

From Called to Be Human -

"You had gotten ready for bed that night, and I was preparing to curl up on the cot the nurses had brought into your room for me to sleep on. I invited you to join me for my evening prayers before going to sleep. You prayed with me and had been quietly listening as I prayed from the Book of Common Prayer a prayer titled 'For Those We Love.' The prayer goes like this: 'Almighty God, we entrust all who are dear to us to thy never-failing care and love, for this life and the life to come; knowing that thou art doing for them better things than we can desire or pray for; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen'

As soon as I finished this prayer, you reached over and squeezed my hand, and asked me, 'Daddy, were you putting me in God's hands?'

I could hardly answer you for the knot in my throat. But I struggled to say, 'Yes. Tomorrow when the doctors take you into surgery, I am entrusting you to God who loves you even more than I do (though I can't imagine how that's possible!). I trust God will do better things for you than I can desire or pray for.'

I didn't know where the road would lead. I could not visualize what it would mean twenty-four hours later to stand next to you in the intensive care unit with you hooked up to a respirator and monitors and IVs and all sorts of other terrifying machines. I certainly couldn't imagine what it would mean to see you gradually return to health and eventually to possess healthy you had never known before. I just hoped, and the hope became a sort of solid trust, and the trust felt more like I was held than like something I was holding. It surely didn't feel like I knew for certain where the road would end. I didn't. I just trusted the One who walked with us. And I know - I know! - I didn't give myself that faith. Faith was given to me in a moment when I'm not sure I could have taken two more steps on my own."

I love that line "the trust felt more like I was held than like something I was holding." There is comfort for me in that "letting go".

-Barbara