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.
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.
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