a day in the life (15)

These summer months are busy and my posts have been fewer. I think I break every rule a "good blogger" abides by. I hope you are enjoying these summer days as much as we are. ~Kara

Calvin's "good stretch" left Darryl and I feeling nearly euphoric. The past week was littered with wonderfulness: toes squirming in the warm Lake Michigan sand, early morning squeals and smiles, giggles in the hammock swing, and joy waiting for us everywhere.

The euphoria followed us the surgeon's office. Dr. Roberston. We sat in the waiting room adoring our young man's smiles and shared a knowing look. We'd waited so long to see our boy like this. Darryl picked up a magazine and flipped through. My chin rested on his shoulder, my arm in his, and stared at the pages (not really seeing anything but happiness). 

We were burning with hope. With contentment. Our son was happy. Not in pain. Unable to move but full of life and full of delight. Oh little boy, you've stolen our hearts so. For once we felt we could REJOICE in his life. 

Dr. Robertson ushered us into his office. We were ready to schedule a surgery for Calvin. One that we hoped would rid him from choking and filling up his lungs. Dreams were filling our minds. Dreams of life with Calvin. Three weeks of him feeling good gave us a glimpse of just how joyful life is with him. We were dreaming of Darryl carrying him around piggy-back on the beach. Letting him splash in the waves. Dreaming of him rolling over and us screaming with excitement. 

How could he deflate those dreams? It wasn't his fault but I wanted it to be. I wanted surgery to be the solution for Calvin living with a good quality of life. "I'm voting no for the surgery. The risks are many and the benefits are not sure. It might complicate his case more and make him even more uncomfortable," the surgeon said. 

That left us with plan B, stand-by Calvin and assist and love him as much as we can while his lungs struggle with constant aspirations. "Can't you give us another answer?" I asked, knowing I was asking the impossible. "I wish there was something I could do," he said. 

We left the office. We left the euphoria there too. I looked down at Calvin's grin and wide eyes and found that joy had remained. All is not lost. No, all is not lost. 

There is no way to quantify or qualify the benefits and sorrows of life. But this I know, we have gained even in the face of loss. 

Christ has become our surety.

Life has become sweeter.

Heaven has become our longing.

Death has been trumped by eternal hope.

Love has been felt deeper and stronger.

We are full of hope. Hope in Christ and his comfort, his plan, his ability to take things that break our heart and turn them into wells which he pours his redeeming work into. 

Clinging to Christ is not a last resort. It is the only way to start living.

For the preaching of the cross is to them that perish foolishness, but unto us which are saved it is the power of God. 1 Corinthians 1: 18