Skip to main content

Dear God...

Dear God,

Standing against the morning sunlight, she’s beautiful.

Her small, shapely body is round and full — inside her womb, our child plays.

She tells me how this tiny, divine person pushes and moves and stretches and floats on a life-giving island known only to females. Silhouetted against the 6 a.m. sun I watch her as she rubs her belly, reverently, touching this child she so willingly bears.

Heavenly father, she is so frightened.

Each night she prays, asking you to help her. She seeks your guidance; your forgiveness. She prays that you will take care of the life growing within her.

She prays because you, father, are our only hope.

The doctors, though upbeat, tell us this newest member of the human race will need three separate surgeries to ensure its life.

The first, to place a shunt inside an artery flowing into its tiny heart.

The second, to literally replumb the top portion of the heart; the third, a similar operation on the bottom.

That news devestated her.

I felt her sob and cry with a pain that came from her very soul; a pain so deep that I’m sure only you can understand. Her suffering is beyond my capability to fathom.

I am simply a man, you are eternal.

And so, we pray.

Like so many others, we’ve turned to you in our time of darkness. In the stillness I feel her heart beat. As she nestles next to me, I, too, can feel my infant move.

And though I cannot imagine what you truly are, or understand your being or your existence, I do believe you are love.

I do believe you care.

And I do believe that you — in whatever way — are protective of us, your creation.

But I cannot look at you with the mind of a peer — I can only understand and fathom you through the eyes of a human. A human who cannot grasp all that he faces.

Father, I know for certain you brought my wife into my life; and I know that you are responsible for the life which dances inside her.

My prayer is simple, I want nothing for myself, just that you protect both my wife and my unborn child.

Please, give us the opportunity to see this small, wonderful creature grow and become a part of this world. I know, many say the world is full of evil and dark.

I disagree.

I’ve seen the stars twinkle against a velvet sky, I’ve stood, amazed at the sunsets painted by your hand. I’ve listened to the rain and stood silently amongst the brightly colored leaves.

I’ve witnessed kindness. I’ve known love.

For me, your world is full of beauty and life.

And all I ask of you is that you share that bounty with a beautiful, fragile woman whom I live with, and a small, innocent child inside her.

Please, God, know that I do have faith, but also know that deep inside — in the far corners of my heart — I fear the anguish of a heartbroken woman and the vision of an empty crib.

Comments

Anonymous said…
O merciful Father, Creator of all that is seen and unseen: Look with pity upon the sorrows of your servants for whom this prayer is offered. Remember them, O Lord, in mercy, nourish their souls with patience, comfort them with a sense of your goodness, lift up your countenance upon them, and give them peace; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Popular posts from this blog

Molly the Wonder Dog

  I first met Molly the Wonder Dog about twelve years ago. I had exited a difficult marriage and found, much to my surprise, a delightful brown-eyed mother of two who thought I was charming. Seriously, she did. Anyway, Karen had two children – Sara and Clayton – a couple of cats with questionable reputations and Molly the Wonder Dog. Molly wasn’t sure about me at first. She kept her distance, and looked at me me with eye of skeptical reporter. For a while, she watched every step I took when I ventured over to Karen’s house. I understood this. Karen was a single mother with two small children. Molly was Karen’s dog and Molly was in charge of security, a job she took very seriously. I was the outsider. And, because Karen shares the same DNA as St. Francis of Assisi, I knew that should I stay with her Molly and the other animals that crossed the threshold, would become part of our family. So Karen and I began to date. But it wasn’t until Molly witnessed the first of many kisses betwee...

The Hidden Watergate Story: How Larry Nichols and U.S. House Speaker Carl Albert Made the Difficult Choice to Say ‘No’

House Speaker Carl Albert, D-McAlester, center is shown in 1974. To Albert's left is his press secretary, Joe Foote . OKLAHOMA CITY – This is a story about power and politics. A story about the choices men are given and the choices those same men make.   This is also a story about history, a little-known tale regarding one of the biggest political scandals in American. This is a story about Watergate. But it’s not a typical Watergate story: It’s a story that few know and even fewer talk about.    This is a Watergate story about two Oklahomans: The late Carl Albert, then-Speaker of the U.S. House of Representatives and a young Justice Department attorney named Larry Nichols. One a Republican, the other a Democrat who, at the height of a national crisis, when the country was divided and people were furious and frightened, made an incredibly difficult choice.                  The Scandal That Brought ...

The more things change, the more they stay the same

So I’m standing in a large darkened gym, watching a bunch of middle school kids fake like they are dancing — and for the record they’re not very good. I’m here, because in a moment of weakness, I told my school teacher-wife I’d help chaperone. The music is loud. Between 40 and 50 kids line the walls — boys on one side, girls on the other. The dance floor is empty. I’ve been here before. About 30 years ago. Over to the left, there’s the arrogant little twit who is sure he’s the perfect specimen of masculinity. He thinks he’s immortal and he honestly believes that every girl here is dying to hook-up with him. He struts around like a rooster, high-fives his buds, and practices that same look Rod Steward made famous in 1975. Rod’s version was way better. Thirty years ago this kid’s name was Jimmy; he started on the eighth grade football team and his Dad bought him a real motorcycle. He was just sure he had qualified as the Alpha Male of the eighth grade. Superjock is talking to the standar...