Monday, December 17, 2012

Talking with God

God and I had a talk this morning as I was driving Jack to the place where I take him every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. All weekend I've been feeling uneasy about dropping Jack off at school. I'm sure many of you are feeling the same. As we were driving the icy roads, I looked in the rear view at my boy and I said "God, please keep my boy safe. Please, please, please, God." These sorts of prayers, often muttered more like a mantra under my breath, are so familiar to me. Almost like breathing, they are.

I started to think about the NICU experience and how that shapes every single emotion I experience now. I am almost positive this is part of PTSD, but I find myself wanting to take hold of my boy and hole ourselves up in our home. Of course I am writing right now, from a coffee shop. That means I did eventually drop Jack off. I took in his teacher's Christmas presents. I tried to act calm, cool, and collected. On the inside? Nerves. Sick in the pit of my stomach.

Even now, as I write from this coffee shop, as I check Facebook, as I upload a pic to Instagram, my thoughts are there at school, with my boy. Santa is supposed to come today to visit the kids. Such a sweet time for them. Oh God, please protect our little ones.

Preemie parents are painfully aware that no matter how hard we try, there are no guarantees. We cannot will our children to live. To keep them out of harms way. But I do believe in going to God with our concerns, with our hurt, with our prayers of protection. Not to get all theological, but prayer is one of those things that make me scratch my head, still to this day, even after a lifetime of growing up in the church with the opportunity to study these very things. Even with these thoughts, I know the power of prayer. I've seen it. But I also know that sometimes the answer is "no" or unexplainable except for the fact that we live in a "fallen" world. And yes, this all seems so overly simplistic, when in reality, we just cannot explain it.

Still, I pray. I beg God for his protection over my little one. I pray that he has a fun day. That he continues to learn how to interact with his classmates. To follow directions. To make a craft. To visit with Santa. Maybe even try a bite of his snack. That he doesn't get overwhelmed. But most of all, that he is safe in this scary world.
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4 comments:

Anonymous said...

I have a five year old and dropping him off at school today was very difficult as well. I too prayed like crazy for Gods protection over him. Gave him lots of hugs and kisses, told him how much we love him!

Michelle said...

My daughter is in kindergarten, and I felt so scared sending her to school. I kissed her about 20 times before she left. My heart breaks for those parents.

Ashley said...

Oh Jessi, me too. How many times in the walk into the NICU each morning did we utter the phrase, "Please God. Please. Please. Please. Let her have had a good night." Even now, as I prepare to drop her off at school for the first time since Friday, I have heart flutters about it. When I found out one of the children murdered was a preemie... I lost it all over again. It's our worst fear and our nightmare played out for another parent.

Anonymous said...

Thank you for this beautiful post! I know I could not survive the NICU without prayer. I often envisioned Isabella wrapped in a blanket and resting safely in the arms of god. My prayers were much like yours...please keep her safe. I'm so thankful for the practice I had giving my child over to god. It has served me well in parenthood. Every moment is a gift!
Rachel