Day 6 My dearest friend is heartbroken. We both are.
Her niece, who is the same age as my Henry (6), might not live another day. The details of her situation are complicated, but the short of it is that 5 months ago this little girl was admitted to the hospital and put on a wait list for an artificial heart. The months spent waiting for this lifesaving technology have been a roller coaster, the greatest dip in her health being two weeks ago when she became ill from an infection. She's remained in the hospital all those months, and now she is on life support. This past weekend the doctors gave her parents a most torturous choice - they were told that they can withdraw treatment if/when they are ready.
And then. The artificial heart. It arrived.
This beautiful 6-year-old has been given another chance at life. Her heart arrived.
Except that's not what the doctors said. The doctors believe that this precious girl is too weak. They are going to turn down the heart. She would not survive the transplant.
Her heart arrived two weeks late.
And now she remains unresponsive in a tiny hospital bed, her fate a tragedy beyond any comprehension.
To empathize with this family is almost unbearable. When I put myself in their shoes, my chest knots fierce and I go breathless.
My friend's precious niece, dying without a heart, has stolen ours.
My conversations with my dear friend have been drenched with tears, pain, grief, and questions. We both have so many questions. And almost all of them are questions of God.
In a way, the questions are rhetorical. I find myself shouting the questions at God, not expecting an answer to fall from above.
I trust that God's hand is in this devastating situation. I have faith that He hears me and that He is good.
And so those questions - those emotional, grief-filled, angry-at-times questions - they have me wondering, do we allow ourselves to ask questions of God? Is it okay to say, God, I'm mad. I'm devastated. And I want to know why.
Does it make me crazy that I ask a good God questions about a heartbreaking situation even though I am not really expecting answers?
And yet I know that amidst my sorrow and grief, comfort and peace is not going to come in the form of answers from Heaven rather it will come in the form of Presence from Heaven.
For my friend's niece, she might experience God's Presence in seeing Jesus face to face much sooner than any parent would accept.
For my friend and her family, I can only pray that they experience God's Presence on earth amidst this excruciating sadness.
Whether it's knowing that He's there or praying that He is found, my questions all end up on one great big pillow of hope.
I can only hope and pray.
Even though that hope and prayer sometimes looks like me shouting at the sky.