The baby is born! My little Luke – my tenth grandchild! Luke, the “bringer of light”!
I praise.
There are problems. Luke has two holes in his heart and a duct that needs to close.
I praise.
And I pray.
I see answers to prayer. Those answers comfort me. They remind me of God’s love and mercy.
One hole closes – it is healed! The duct closes!
I see miracles! Those miracles strengthen my faith.
I praise.
I pray.
And I wait.
Luke grows. He gains stature, strength, and weight! He nurses well. He is strong and appears healthy, so healthy that when others see him, they don’t know he has a hole in his heart – a hole that has not yet healed.
I praise.
I pray.
I wait.
And I trust God’s promises.
I want that second hole to be miraculously woven, knit, and healed by God’s hand – His righteous, right hand. His holy hand.
The answer I hear is not the answer I want: God is going to bring about Luke’s healing through surgery.
Again, I realize that I am not the orchestrator of this healing. But God is. So I rest.
I praise.
I pray.
I wait.
I trust God’s promises.
And I rest.
It does not come easy for me to rest. I sing. I praise God. It helps me rest. I picture Baby Luke in the palm of God’s hand – His righteous, right hand – His holy hand. Whether Luke is at home in his cradle, nursing in his mother’s arms, or in the doctor’s care on the surgery table, there is no safer place for Luke to be than in the palm of God’s hand.
I praise.
I pray.
I wait.
I trust God’s promises.
I trust.
I rest.
And I thank Him.
I thank Him because he loves Luke even more than I do – even more than Luke’s Mommy and Daddy do. I close my eyes and I see Jesus with little Baby Luke:
“People were also bringing their babies to Jesus to have him touch them . . . and Jesus said, ‘Let the little children come to me.'”
