During the past year, I have had the privilege of attending Broadway-tour performances of Wicked and Phantom of the Opera. Both were impressive shows filled with talented actors and breathtaking sets. I will always remember those evenings; however, neither imprinted my heart and mind to the degree that last evening’s trip to the theater did.

Seussical presented by the Arts Inclusion Company (www.artsinclusioncompany.com) packed a three-hour performance with enough layers of meaning and life lessons to leave me deep in thought for weeks. Co-founded by my friend and hero Dianna Swenson, AIC defines itself as a “company where people of All Abilities are welcomed to participate in all aspects of theatrical arts.”

The show burst with color, music, energy, and a range of talent and ability working in unity in a way that I see nowhere else. Watching the performers and their “shadows” act and sing together to bring characters and story to life is breathtaking. I couldn’t help thinking that we were witnessing a glimpse of the Kingdom on earth—a portrait of how life could be if we all risked putting our individually broken selves together to create something much more complete and meaningful than we are capable of alone.

The show as scripted and rehearsed and performed was enough to make for an entertaining, uplifting evening at the theater. However, there was much more to the evening than that for me.

Just as AIC gives its performers and crew opportunities they may not otherwise have, the same is true for its audience. There are very few artistic venues to which I would take my 6-year-old daughter, who in addition to having an age-appropriate attention span and energy level also happens to have Down syndrome, which often gives an extra element of challenge and “surprise” to our outings. AIC is comprised of people who “get this,” so every aspect of the show and environment was designed to accommodate and encourage accessibility. Priority seating was available to individuals in wheelchairs, and the audience was prepared to accept “happy noises” in whatever form they came during the performance.

This, alone, would make the show unique and welcoming; however, during last night’s performance, the AIC crew and performers had an incredible opportunity to practice 360-degree inclusion. Early in the second act, a young woman named Samantha, who happens to be the daughter of another friend and hero and who also happens to have Autism, became so mesmerized with the show that she left her front-row, floor-level seat and walked onto the stage.

Every warrior mom in the room empathized with my friend as she attempted unsuccessfully to get her daughter back to her seat. That moment proved to be pivotal for the show on so many levels. Her mom clearly knew that to push her daughter at that point would have certainly had a disruptive and very negative ending. So she did what only a very, very courageous mother would do—she let her daughter go, trusting that the environment that AIC strove to create was really what it claimed to be—inclusive.

What followed was about ten minutes of unscripted beauty. Samantha had spent the entire first act watching these performers sing and dance, and as she responded onstage, it was amazing to see what she had picked up just from observation. Even more amazing was how the performers reacted to her unexpected presence onstage. No one missed a beat—not the experienced actors or those who were on the public stage for the first time. One of the leads did some improv with her in one scene, shadows engaged her, and after several minutes, she sat—not back in her seat, but on the steps leading to the stage. At that point, everyone had accepted Samantha as part of the show. To me, she represented all of us, the audience, as we engaged with this incredible performance. To see her sitting, mesmerized, so comfortably in the middle of the performance was like witnessing myself viewing the performance while it occurred—a very surreal experience.

Behind the scenes, the crew worked with her mother to formulate the best plan to get Samantha off the stage because, of course, for her safety and that of the performers, she needed to return to her seat. But there were many ways that could have happened—and only one was in keeping with the theme of the evening’s performance, that “a person’s a person, no matter how small.”

So at a natural break in the flow of the musical, two men gently approached Samantha to coax her back to her seat. She still resisted, so Dianna walked toward her. Dianna explained what happened next on her Facebook page after the show: “I prayed and all I got was ‘sing to her,’ so I sang her name to her and off she went back to sit with the audience to enjoy the rest of the performance with her mom. The audience cheered for her! They cheered for this little girl who walked up on the stage. She wasn’t trying to interrupt the show, she was trying to get closer to the beauty, and to me, she became part of the beauty of what Arts Inclusion stands for.”

Dianna nailed it when she said that Samantha “became part of the beauty” because rather than disrupting the show or upstaging the actors onstage, her actions allowed the show to take on an even deeper meaning than it already had, and it allowed the performers to SHINE so much brighter in their handling of the situation. Even more than that, it engaged the audience on a level impossible to create “on script.”

Yes, the ending could have gone differently. Samantha could have still refused to leave the stage, and these kind men may have had to muscle her back to her seat. And there still would have been grace in that because of the great lengths everyone went to to maintain her dignity while protecting the show and the labor put into its preparation. But Dianna prayed, and God told her what to do, so the story had the happiest of endings.

And I enjoyed a lovely evening out with my family—a pizza dinner, a great show, and a chance to experience 360-degree inclusion such as I have never experienced it before. Thank you, AIC, for living what you believe and for demonstrating that every single life contains disability in some form but that the heart of disability is actually ABILITY.

December 24. Christmas Eve–the end of my Advent Journey. These are the lessons I have learned from the experience of journaling through Advent…

1. Even when you deliberately focus on Christ, the Christmas season is very difficult to navigate. So many demands and expectations compete for time and energy. And regular life with all of its needs just keeps going. This is something I hope to reflect on further. What can I change or cut next year that might make a difference?

2. Committing publicly to do something and then documenting it is a powerful motivator. I know I would not have followed through as consistently without that accountability. I need to transfer this to other areas where I lack self discipline.

3. Encouragement blesses me. I did this as a discipline for myself, but every time someone sent a word of encouragement, it showed me that God had plans I wasn’t even aware of and that He could use even my meager offerings for good.

4. Devotionals are tools not the end goal. I started three–one for me, one for our homeschool, and one for my elementary kids. We got through about Day 15 of the school ones. I did a little better in mine. This grieved me for awhile until I realized that what we did was a blessing and the rest can be for next year. The trees pictured in this post are two of our devotional trees. They are beautiful even with half of the ornaments missing.

5. God is ALWAYS faithful. I wish I could say that I prayed and studied and wrote in my journal first thing every morning. Sometimes I did, but often I did not. Even on nights that I could not keep my eyes open and waited way too late to sit down and spend time with God, He always met me, taught me, and gave me new revelations to share in my journal. My trust in Him has grown tremendously.

6. The only perfect Christmas is the one that occurred in a stable in Bethlehem.

Lord, You have blessed me so much this Advent season. You always had something to say to me; all I had to do was show up and ask. The longer I sat with you, the more You shared with me. Thank You for showing me over and over again how much I needed the gift of Jesus Christ. In His name, I pray. Amen.

“Call to me and I will answer you, and will tell you great and hidden things that you have not known.” (Jeremiah 33:3, ESV)

December 23. Sigh…today God was brutally honest with me. The past few days, the wheels fell off my proverbial Advent Season bus. Deadlines passed. To-do lists would shrink then grow—back and forth by the hour—so that it appeared no progress was being made whatsoever. Four people in our house got sick. I fell impossibly behind in all of our Advent devotionals. My work force shrank and attitudes tanked. Even my “minimum” wasn’t within reach. Within a matter of days, it seemed I had erased all of the truth and peace and reflection and joy God had been revealing to me over the past three weeks. I felt just as miserable as I had felt a few days before Christmas in previous years—the years I was trying so hard NOT to duplicate.

I grew increasingly discouraged, and cried out to God for help. His answer: the only problem here is YOU. That is not what I wanted to hear. But, it is true.

A few days ago, I wrote about the idol of a perfect Christmas. Clearly, I did not internalize what God revealed to me that day. Because, here I was pining away over the disintegration of my plans. Now, I think God allowed them to disintegrate so He could show me how important they were to me—and how far my heart is from where it should be.

At the beginning of the month, I downloaded a picture—from Facebook, I think—that I then made the wallpaper on my phone. It says: “Are you celebrating a Season or worshipping a Savior?” All month I have seen that question every time I turned my phone on, which is a LOT of times a day. Yet, it took me 23 days to realize the disappointing answer.

In Deuteronomy 4, Moses the warned the Israelites not to “become corrupt and make for yourselves an idol” (verse 16) and not to “be enticed into bowing down to them and worshiping things the Lord your God has apportioned to all the nations under heaven.” (verse 19) Moses knew that he would not enter the Promised Land, and he wanted the Israelites to know and understand the significance of their covenant with God. He admonished them, saying “For the Lord your God is a consuming fire, a jealous God.” (verse 24)

In the devotional Advent: The Whole Story, Paul David Tripp writes, “The thing that always replaces love of God is love of self…You and I will find a way to insert ourselves into the center of our world. We’re obsessed with our will; we want to be sovereign over our own lives; we want to set the rules; we’re addicted to our own pleasure and happiness.” (Advent: The Whole Story by Paul David Tripp, p. 6)

Even with all of the reading, reflecting, praying, and writing I have done this month, as the end of the Advent season drew near and my plans began to unravel, I saw how central they had become to me—more central than the God I was supposedly pursuing. God convicted me that I was indeed celebrating a season—worshipping it even—not a Savior, and that I had made even my Advent journey about me, rather than about God.

Before I could initiate a pity party, completely give up, and resign myself to failure, I realized that this is one of those blessings in disguise. Tripp writes, “This Advent Season, you need to embrace the sad reality that your heart is still prone to betraying the Lord.” (p. 7) He continues: “God allows difficulty to enter our door, not because he’s too weak to help or because he doesn’t hear our cries, but because we need personal heart transformation.” (p. 11)

Moses went on to warn the Israelites against corruption and idolatry, telling them that those things would lead them to destruction. My God is the same God that Moses warned the Israelites about, and if I worship an idol or corrupt the celebration of His Son’s birth, I should not be surprised that He would issue a correction. Instead, I should be grateful.

As much as I would like to blame the people around me, condemn their complacency, or lament unexpected setbacks, the truth is that if my purpose is sincerely to pursue my Savior this Advent season, then none of these things should hinder me in that. In fact, if anything, they should push me further into the arms of God, where I can safely pour out my frustration and disappointment.

The only problem I have as Advent draws to a close is the problem I have everyday—a sinful heart prone to wander from God. But likewise, the Savior whose birth I am desperately trying to grasp and TRULY celebrate this Christmas offers the same solution He offers everyday—Himself. As Tripp wrote in his devotional, “This Advent season, don’t reach for hope in your situations or circumstances or relationships. Hope will never be found horizontally. Hope has already come, and His name is Jesus.” (p. 12)

Lord, here I am again, making the same mistakes of losing my perspective and worshipping my created idols. But thankfully, there You are again, ready to receive me back, accept my apology, extend your neverending grace, and set me on my way again. Help me let go of disappointment with myself, others, and circumstances. Keep me from being distracted by the externals of celebrating Christmas, and focus my attention on the internal—my heart—which is what has always mattered most to You. Thank You that sanctification is a process and that You use my failures to mold me into a better likeness of Your Son. In His holy name, I pray. Amen.

“There you will worship man-made gods of wood and stone, which cannot see or hear or eat or smell. But if from there you seek the Lord your God, you will find him if you look for him with all your heart and with all your soul. When you are in distress and all these things have happened to you, then in later days you will return to the Lord your God and obey him. For the Lord your God is a merciful God; he will not abandon or destroy you or forget the covenant with your forefathers, which he confirmed to them by oath.” (Deuteronomy 4:28-31, NIV)

In two more days we will celebrate the birth that changed the world forever. But today, as I celebrate the 16th birthday of my daughter and the 45th birthday of my husband, I can’t help but think that every birth changes someone’s world.

In 1998, I bought Jerry a really nice fishing pole for his birthday. Had I known that Marina would arrive that day, I would have saved my money. She was the best birthday gift he would ever receive. His life has never been the same, and neither has mine. All parents would say the same about all of their children.

God carefully crafted each and every person in His image, whether that person acknowledges Him as their Maker or not. 

“God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them.” (Genesis 1:27, ESV)

“Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you.”  (Jeremiah 1:5a, ESV)

Nothing can touch the birth of Jesus Christ, Savior of the World. But every birth is worth celebrating, and every life is a gift.

And that is all. Because I have a yummy cake to eat with an amazing husband and a lovely daughter.

Lord, every year on the 22nd of December, I get to celebrate two of the greatest gifts You ever gave me. May I never take them for granted, and may I always be a part of helping them grow into Your best for them. In Your Son’s name, I pray. Amen.

“For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.” (Ephesians 2:10, ESV)

December 21. I cannot imagine a more effective way to lose your Christmas spirit than shopping the weekend before Christmas. I avoid it every year, but this year, I promised to finish all shopping and wrapping by the end of the day on the 21^st. The 22^nd is birthday day at our house, and this year I especially want to bless my birthday people with a Christmas-free day.

So did I accomplish my goal? Almost. I still need gifts for a baby boy who needs NOTHING! He would not notice if he actually got nothing, but his 10-year-old sister would not go for that. At this point, I am seriously considering filling his stocking with Starbucks gifts cards. A happy mom is the best gift a kid could receive, right?!?

I battle with gift giving every year. I LOVE giving gifts. That isn’t the problem. I even enjoy wrapping them if I am not rushed and if I have some good music and a hot beverage to enjoy. But as someone who tries desperately to limit shopping during the rest of the year, Christmas shopping for me is like a dam bursting open. I discover treasure after treasure that is just perfect for the recipient. Having seven kids to shop for only magnifies the problem. I set limits then I break them. Then I feel guilty for breaking them, and before long, the joy of giving is overshadowed by guilt.

Today our pastor preached on the Gift of Righteousness. It was a powerful and very timely sermon on this passage: “For if, by the trespass of the one man, death reigned through that one man, how much more will those who receive God’s abundant provision of grace and the gift of righteousness reign in life through the one man, Jesus Christ.” (Romans 5:17, NIV)

Pastor Dan taught about double imputation and gave me a deeper perspective of the Gospel. His sermon gave me new revelation on the gift of righteousness God gave us through Christ and the gifts that continue to bless us as people, who by no worthiness of our own, stand righteous in the eyes of a holy God. There is no greater gift to be given or received—ever.

But the sermon also gave me a new perspective on gifts that our pastor probably did not intend. I have always thought of the custom of gift giving as a memorial to the gifts the Magi brought to Jesus. In fact, when our family “killed” Santa several years ago, that is one tradition we implemented—three gifts per child in honor of the Magi’s gifts to Christ. But today, as I listened to Dan preach about this ultimate gift our Father gave us through Christ, I realized that it is not the Magi that I emulate in my gift giving but God the Father who lavishly bestows upon His children a gift they can never deserve.

It is not the Farher’s gifts I emulate but the Gift Giver. I know I cannot give my children presents remotely that significant, but I can grant myself permission to be lavish in my gift giving to the extent that our budget allows. Limits and restrictions are fine—and necessary most of the year—but if I couldn’t resist the cute little Frozen character figures and hair ties that I saw today even though Lydia’s gifts are wrapped and under the tree, that is OKAY! And I need not be plagued by guilt or even overwhelmed by the crowds in the stores. I can and should enjoy the process of searching for, purchasing, and wrapping gifts that my family will (hopefully) love because that is how the Father feels about His gifts for me—the ultimate gift given once for all and the daily gifts He gives just because He loves me.

Thank you, God, that I am a daughter of the King who lavished extraordinary gifts on me that first Christmas. I want to bless my own children as lavishly as I can, so that I can receive the joy of giving, and so they can know the love of their earthly parents, though it is but a tiny fraction of Your love for them. Keep my attitude about gift giving in alignment with Your will. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

“Thanks be to God for his inexpressible gift!” (2 Corinthians 9:15, NIV)

December 20. When Mary and Joseph took Jesus to the temple to be presented to the Lord, they encountered Simeon, a “righteous and devout” man who had been told by the Holy Spirit that “he would not see death before he had seen the Lord’s Christ.” (Luke 2:25-26, ESV) He took the child in his arms and blessed God and prophesied about Jesus’s life. (v. 29-32)

After this, Simeon blessed Joseph and Mary, and then he spoke directly to Mary, saying: “Behold, this child is appointed for the fall and rising of many in Israel, and for a sign that is opposed (and a sword will pierce through your soul also), so that thoughts from many hearts may be revealed.” (Luke 2:34b-35, ESV)

Scripture doesn’t say how Mary felt hearing these things, but it must have been weighty. Recalling her reaction to what the shepherds said about her newborn son earlier in this same chapter, I wonder if she again “treasured up all these things, pondering them in her heart.” (Luke 2:19, ESV)

Or was it different this time because Simeon’s prophecy was not all positive. He says that her son will be opposed and that even she will be wounded. But Simeon makes it clear that these truths are necessary, that Mary’s son is “appointed,” and that through him “thoughts from many hearts may be revealed.”

I don’t know what Mary felt or did. But reflecting on this takes me back to the birth of one of my own children. A birth in which God began speaking to me just as He did to Mary through the shepherds and then through Simeon.

When we first had a hint that Lydia would be born with Down syndrome, we received prayer from a group of friends. I will never forget that prayer time because during it, God showed me a vision to me in which He was forming my baby in my womb, just as Scripture says He does in Psalm 139:

“For you formed my inward parts;

you knitted me together in my mother’s womb.

I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.

Wonderful are your works;

my soul knows it very well.

My frame was not hidden from you,

when I was being made in secret,

intricately woven in the depths of the earth.

Your eyes saw my unformed substance;

in your book were written, every one of them,

the days that were formed for me,

when as yet there was none of them.” (Psalm 139:13-16, ESV)

God made it clear to me that my vision was not a promise of healing but a promise that God was creating my baby girl deliberately and purposefully, with or without Down syndrome. I can honestly say that that revelation gave me complete peace that lasted the rest of the pregnancy.

When Lydia arrived, God again spoke to me in the night after she was born. We were struggling to name her because we had two names we liked a lot. That night, I shared my heart with the nurse who cared for me, a nurse who had lost a baby and was now carrying another baby likely to have the same genetic condition that took her first. Through this nurse, God told me what a gift my baby girl was.  As I spoke to her, God directed me to give our baby both of the first names we had chosen because only one of them was not good enough for her. So our decision between Lydia (biblically known as a worshipper of God) and Eliana (“God has answered”) resulted in Lydia Eliana.

When we brought Lydia home, I remember rocking her in her nursery and weeping inside, overwhelmed with love for her yet also with a deep sadness for what she faced. That time God gave me an image of a little wounded bird, and I knew that He was tasking me with nurturing her until she could fly.

Six years later, she has been healed of so many things—a successful open heart surgery, numerous other surgeries, countless therapy sessions, and a lot of “normal” childhood experiences in a busy family where she is just one of the kids. But every now and then, I get that gut-wrenching ache in my heart. The same one I felt in the rocking chair that day. Because I know life will always hold extra challenges for her and that one day, she will realize that some people don’t recognize the value of lives like hers.

I guess that is what Simeon meant when he told Mary, “a sword will pierce your soul also.” In fact, that pretty much sums up what that ache in my heart feels like.

Lydia is no Christ child, and I am certainly no Mary. But I love that when God brings children to mothers that have especially challenging calls on their lives, He also speaks clearly to those mothers—guides them, directs them, draws close to them, and gives them peace.

We know God did this for Mary because when the time came for Jesus to be opposed as Simeon prophesied, He equipped Mary to be right there witnessing the brutal crucifixion of her son. And as only a God-son can do, Jesus, hanging on the cross in the pain and agony of His last moments, provided for his mother. Scripture says, “When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing nearby, he said to his mother, ‘Woman, behold your son!’ Then he said to the disciple, ‘Behold your mother!’ And from that hour the disciple took her to his own home.” (John 19:26-27)  In effect, God the Son was giving his mother Mary to John to care for her in old age, just as God the Father gave Jesus to Mary to care for in his infancy.

Lord, Thank You for choosing me to be Lydia’s mom. Thank You for using the story of Simeon’s words to Mary to remind me of the words You spoke to me when my baby was born. I know now that the pain of the sword piercing my soul is worth the joy of watching a life that You have annointed unfold. I pray You will continue to speak to me and equip me to help my little bird FLY! In Jesus’ name, I pray. Amen.

“I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33, ESV)

December 19. How did it happen? A week before Christmas, and my office is barricaded by Amazon boxes. My kitchen would not pass a sanitation inspection. Shoes line our kitchen table. Coats and jackets are scattered everywhere but the closet. A mountain of “I-don’t-do-laundry-at-college” clothes waits for attention with a small white dog perched atop it, thinking he has scored a new bed for Christmas.

I can feel my dream of a peaceful, relaxing Christmas slipping away like a vortex of dirty bath water down the drain. I can even hear the gurgling. I think it is Satan mocking me. “She thought she had set herself up for a relaxing Christmas…all that early shopping and wrapping and mailing her cards before Thanksgiving…but I’ve got her now!”

That was the scene when I went to bed last night. But in the night last night, God whispered to me and I awoke suddenly. He said one word—Idol. I had read a devotional about idols by Ann Voskamp that morning (yes, I am three days behind).

Ann says: “They say that when you waver between two opinions, between two gods, the literal Hebrew word for wavering means sinking. It’s the wavering between the gods of things and the God of everything—that’s what has us flailing and drowning soundless in it all. We were made to worship—our internal circuitry wired to worship. Every moment you live, you live bowed to something. And if you don’t choose God, you’ll bow down before something else—some banal Baal…It’s always Baals that keep us from God, the Baals of work and agenda and accomplishment that keep us from prayer. We don’t pray enough only when we are practicing idol worship.” (from p. 148-149 of The Greatest Gift by Ann Voskamp)

When I read these words, I first thought of the idols in my everyday life—school, books, coffee, bargain hunting, and even family. But when I woke up, I knew immediately that God was not referring to any of these. I was on the verge of making the same mistake I have made so many Christmases before—striving for an external peace instead of an internal peace. Thinking I can create the perfect Christmas for my family when God has already done that.

And then, a list poured into my mind—nine people live in this four-bedroom house. This house is not only a home but a nursery to twins, an elementary school, a middle school, a high school, a therapy center, and a college retreat center. I could clean; organize; and “catch up” on laundry, chores, and dishes all day long everyday, but it is highly unlikely that the peaceful, orderly, simple, clean home I envision would ever exist.

Yet, here I was nursing this picture in my mind of what our home would look like a week before Christmas. Because even though I said this year was going to be different because I would focus on the true meaning of Christmas, I have held onto this vision of Christmas I pursue every year—one that revolves around home, food, gifts, and traditions.

Idol. That’s what God named this. I have created a beautiful, peaceful, imaginary Christmas in my mind that is nothing but a shining idol, no different from the golden calf the Israelites created. And even though I have been deliberate about my pursuit of a different Advent experience this year, unless I shatter this idol, it is still going to draw me away from the God I really want to worship.

Dear God, Thank you. You literally woke me up from my dream. Now in response, I want to smash my idol of the perfect Christmas and replace it with a simpler, more realistic experience that fits the family You gave me. Help me identify the minimum, and accomplish that in time to truly savor next week—the days leading to Christmas.   But even while I pursue this peaceful external environment, let the peace of your Spirit be what I really seek.

“Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. (2 Corinthians 4:16-18, NIV)”

December 18. On Day 5 of this Advent Journal, I wrote about a mother whose baby girl was fighting for her life. I have never met this mom but have been following the story through her blog (http://journeyofsarah.com/). When I wrote the entry on Day 5, my heart was broken for this mother. She lost her husband to cancer a year ago, and it looked like she was about to lose her infant daughter. Earlier this week, this mother took her baby home. The story is incredible and inspiring and worth taking the time to read it its entirety. It has become a part of my Advent journey, watching this miracle unfold. I have gone from gasping in disbelief that God would allow such a tragedy to occur in this situation to gasping with disbelief that He would heal her in such a miraculous way.

I think it has been especially meaningful to me because the situation was so familiar in many ways, so I could understand medically how truly miraculous it was. A quick summary: Baby Ellis had been on a ventilator due to bacterial meningitis. Her brain had swollen terribly, and scans indicated that it had suffered too much damage for her to breathe independently, much less eat or develop normally. When Ellis’s mom posted a beautiful picture of her baby’s footprints and handprints, I had that sinking feeling that anyone whose hospitalized baby has been gravely ill would understand—the “they don’t think my child is going to make it” feeling.

Ellis was taking no independent breaths. Anyone who has had a child weaned off a vent knows what that means. Removing a vent from a child who is taking no independent breaths is not weaning—it is removal of life support. Ellis’s mother Sarah bravely allowed her daughter to be removed from the ventilator, supposedly to die in her arms. But Ellis didn’t die. She lived. And she breathed. And she kept breathing. And then she took bottles. And now she is home. Miracle. No other word for it. It was exhilarating to read about. And yesterday, her mom wrote a very real, very thought-provoking post about how it felt to receive that miracle.

Here is an excerpt:

“The day we removed Ellis from the vent and right before they put her on my chest, I ducked in the bathroom for a quick moment. It was there I cried out one last time to God. I’d been crying out to Him for weeks and it seemed as if my prayers were going nowhere. Each time I would pray it seemed like things only got worse. I was prepared that day to tell her goodbye. My heart was crushed and I felt like I had nothing left within me. Yet, there in that little hospital bathroom a plea rose up from my heart.

‘Lord, I will let her go. But if there’s any way, any way at all, please let her live.’

As I said the prayer I don’t even think I believed it could be true.

But true it was.

They removed Ellis from the vent and against all odds, she lived.

Miracle of miracles.

No explanation for it other than that.

I believed mightily for a miracle once and it didn’t happen.

I believed weakly for a miracle once and it did.

This leaves me at a crossroads.

I believe it’s always Gods will to heal. Always. Do I understand any better why it happens in one instance and not in the other? Not in the least.

I don’t believe God causes tragic circumstances for His glory. But I believe He will use them for His glory.”

(from “Miracles,” published on December 17, 2014 at http://journeyofsarah.com/)

Since Timothy died a year and a half ago, I have had people talk to me about this very thing. Why did God heal Timothy of so many things only to allow a rogue infection to take his life? Why after he went through so much, did God not bring him through that? Why did we not get “our miracle” when others around us did? And we asked the same question of ourselves in the months before his death as we watched some of our new hospital friends lose their children while our son survived. When you are in the world of long-term illness and special needs, these are question you constantly face.  I have always had peace about the way our story unfolded, but the reason was something I struggled to articulate.

Today, though, as I read the blog of this young mom, I felt I finally understood the source of my peace. The truth God revealed to me is that He answers all of the miracle-seeking prayers. Because the miracle is not the physical healing; it is the presence of the Healer. My son fought battle after battle for his health. He went not one single day of his life without being stuck, poked, prodded, or hooked up to something. He struggled. And he struggled. And he struggled. And then he almost made it home. And then he went Home.

But I still experienced a miracle. In pleading for his health and eventually for his life, I encountered God in a way I never had before. And in the minutes directly preceding his death, I experienced the healing presence of Christ himself. I will never forget it, and I know and love God so much more because of it. And this is true because of the Christmas miracle. When the Holy Spirit came upon Mary, the door to heaven creaked open a hair. And with each step of Jesus’s life, it opened further and further until the veil tore on Good Friday and blew the door right off the hinges. That perfect life that led to that perfect sacrifice made the answer to every prayer for a miracle, “YES!” The miracle is that we who are fallen and imperfect and unholy can now experience the presence of the Living God, who is perfect and holy.

And because of this, I can wholeheartedly rejoice with this mother whose daughter has been miraculously healed. And with my hospital friends who did get to take their children home. Because my son was healed too. In heaven. Where he dwells in a place without pain or tears. WITH JESUS HIMSELF. And even though I miss him every single day, I got my miracle. Because I, too, dwell with Jesus himself. I just have to wade through the noise and distraction of this world and seek Him.

Lord, I stand in awe of what You did in baby Ellis’s life. I know You are going to use her mom’s testimony, and one day hers, for Your glory. I also know You have used Timothy’s life and death for Your glory. Both are miracles. Because the miracle is that we have the gift of Your Presence. It is our Christmas miracle and our everyday miracle. Help me to tune out the chaos around me and seek You every day, just as I did when I was pleading for and experiencing my own miraculous healing. In Your Son’s precious name, I pray. Amen.

“Come, let us return to the Lord. He has torn us to pieces but he will heal us; he has injured us but he will bind up our wounds. After two days he will revive us; on the third day he will restore us, that we may live in his presence. Let us acknowledge the Lord; let us press on to acknowledge him. As surely as the sun rises, he will appear; he will come to us like the winter rains, like the spring rains that water the earth.” (Hosea 6:1-3, NIV)

December 17.  Today I have nothing spiritual to write. I just have a heart full of joy and love from spending the afternoon and evening at Christmas Town at Busch Gardens with my whole family. I picked Maya up from college yesterday. The weather today was picture perfect. The crowds were minimal. And we had $12 tickets. Perfect set-up!!

I have never been to Christmas Town. It was beautiful! And it really was a Christmas town, complete with nativity scenes, real Christmas music, and signs that said Merry Christmas instead of Happy Holidays. How refreshing!

Today my Advent lesson was that even something commercialized like a theme park can evoke the feelings of true Christmas spirit if it allows Christ to stay in Christmas.

Father God, I thank you for a wonderful day with  and songs and images about you that were sprinkled throughout the experience. Thank You for the joy and love that tell me that Your Spirit was present. May there be many more such moments in these remaining days of Advent. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

“Our mouths were filled with laughter, our tongues with songs of joy. Then it was said among the nations, ‘The Lord has done great things for them.’ The Lord has done great things for us, and we are filled with joy.” (Psalm 126:2-3, NIV)