Fourteen years and 5 months ago, a woman stood in a hospital room in Houston Texas, face to face with me, a baby in her arms, weeping. She had given birth to a boy 2 days prior, and she had, in the time since then, although I was not present to witness it, cuddled and rocked and spoke softly to her baby, cherishing all the sweet, but achingly painful moments she shared with him. And now, standing before me, far from healed after giving everything in the giving of life, she gave everything again and handed her baby to me...for keeps. I wanted two things intensely and equally at that moment...to immediately turn and run to the bright, safe, comfortable future that awaited me, and also to stay there with her, to make right the topsy turvy-ness of her life, to ease her sorrow by handing her baby back to her, the natural next thing after a woman's baby is momentarily held and enjoyed by another. Eventually, I slowly turned and walked down the wide hospital hallway with Ezekiel in my arms, also weeping, both in awe of and traumatized by all that the moment held.
In the weeks preceding this moment, I agonized over a gift for this woman. What do you give to a woman whose gift to you is her very child? What would mean something? When I figured it out, it was a decisive moment...as if clearly led to it by the Holy Spirit, at a time in my life when I was largely unaware of the Spirit's movement in my life. I bought 2 silver engraved bracelets, each of them engraved with a part of Psalm 40:1. Mine reads, "I waited patiently for the Lord." Hers says, "he turned to me and heard my cry." It was perfect. The verse, and now the bracelets, so beautifully captured elements of both her experience and mine, and now connected us in a forever way. Over the years, I've worn the bracelet less, but every now and then, something inspires me to put it back on.
One Thursday in late May, I sat in a Zoom telehealth appointment with a doctor as she carefully and slowly explained reviewed test results and tried to explain the complex ways that Ezekiel experiences learning disabilities in the areas of reading, writing, and math, overlayed by ADHD, anxiety, and OCD. The heaviness of all that this 14 year old carries around with him daily settled around and upon me like a weighted blanket. I was overwhelmed. Uncertain of what to do first. Or next. Or after that. My mind immediately began problem solving, but where did I start, with not one or two, but THREE learning disabilities to learn about? Even without my work and other responsibilities, there was no way I could read enough to know all that I should know. I was keenly feeling that horror of uncertainty...lingering and swirling through the rest of the day Thursday, and into the weekend. Uncertainty punctuated by moments of grief or lament or confusion. How do I make sense of all of this? I didn't even fully understand all of it.
Nathanael left early that Sunday morning for the National Business Meeting in Philadelphia. It had been raining all day, and the boys and I spent the day laying low at home. Collectively, we agreed to go to the 5pm Bridgetown service. We got on our way, stopped for Dutch Bros., and found ourselves in the balcony at the First Baptist Church. Christian was leading the worship team, and after the first couple of songs, he led the church in the singing of a psalm. The intro of the song/psalm was not something I recognized, but when the words came onto the screen, I gasped. It was Psalm 40:1. We proceeded to sing a beautiful song that was simply the first 3 verses of Psalm 40.
I waited patiently for the Lord;
he turned to me and heard my cry.
He lifted me out of the slimy pit,
out of the mud and mire;
he set my feet on a rock
and gave me a firm place to stand.
He put a new song in my mouth,
a hymn of praise to our God.
Many will see and fear the Lord
and put their trust in him.
I realized while we were singing verses and chorus that in all these years, I had never really noticed the second and third verses of Psalm 40. But as we sang them as a church, speaking the words over one another, I felt the creator of the universe present for me in a deeply personal way.
More than 14 years ago, I was Spirit-led to Psalm 40:1. It was a comfort and a connection and a truth. God speaking to me, then. And I engraved it on some bracelets and have kept mine close. God used that sacred, remembered verse tonight, speaking to me now, to connect me back to that time in my life and to point me to our future.
"I did it before, and I'll do it again"
As we sang the song/psalm, I understood that the 2nd and 3rd verses of Psalm 40 are the next part of our story.
"I will lift you up out of this pit"
"I will set your feet on a rock"
"I will put a new song in your mouth"
I felt a fresh swell of hope while tears streamed down my face, just like that day so long ago that I walked down the hospital hall with her baby...my baby... full of hope, cheeks wet with tears. The weighted blanket lifted. We will not be defeated. God has already claimed victory over learning disabilities and medical diagnoses. God loves Ezekiel even more than I do. He has a plan and a purpose for him. I can trust Him with his future and his today.
When I got home that night, I went to my closet and put the bracelet on. I'll be wearing it faithfully as I wait and watch as God works out and reveals to us the next part of this story.
