I know this place.
We’ve been here before-- the stinging smell of hand sanitizer, the squeaky plastic chair bed, the constant beep beep beep of pulse-ox monitors up and down the hallway. It’s all so familiar that I almost stop registering the details. White noise.
But I feel the pain and relief and dullness of this place acutely. I know what it is to hand my screaming baby over to doctors with hope and fear tangled together in my heart. I know what it is to hear “yes, but” and “no, unless.”
And, dear God, I know what it means to want her healed so badly that my insides pulse with a constant, throbbing pain.
And, like Jairus, I get on my knees and beg Jesus. There is no dignity in my begging; I crouch next to her hospital crib and, like Jairus, plead on behalf of my little one.
|Listen to prayer|