“Your daughter is going to live; I am so sorry.”

These are the first words the surprised doctor uttered to the parents of Judy Squier on the day of her birth. Born in a time before the technology and convenience of sonograms existed, Judy’s condition of proximal femoral focal deficiency went undetected throughout her mother’s pregnancy. Judy emerged from her mother’s womb on that day with grossly evident birth defects, including a webbed left hand and two undeveloped legs. In her book His Majesty in Brokenness, Judy tells her story, starting with her shocking entrance to the world as her parents overcame grief and heartache and committed themselves to doing all they could for their daughter, even if her body was broken. Judy shares many of her struggles as she also identifies God’s goodness and presence throughout a lifetime of disabilities, hospitalizations, and heartache. 

With Eyes that See

I watched as they gracefully walked across the freshly fallen snow. A fawn pranced ahead of the group, bounding into the air effortlessly and landing softly upon the powder. They came to the edge of the field and stopped, cautiously listening for any sound of danger. Slowly, they walked into the field in front of my in-law’s country home and approached the deer feeder. A fire roared in the fireplace to my right, crackling and popping and sizzling with warmth and energy, and I enjoyed the serene beauty of nature - the life before me, around me, beside me. Alisha slept peacefully on a pillow, tummy full from her first morning meal.

But then, the deer froze. Their muscles taut, their ears back, listening, waiting. They would turn toward the line of trees and wait, ready to bound into the safety of cover if the need arouse. After a few moments of intense listening, they went back to grazing in the field. This cycle continued as the deer ate, occasionally freezing in fear and listening for any sign of danger. Go on, little deer, it’s ok. There is no danger here, I urged in my thoughts. I knew they were safe, but the deer did not. “Skittish little animals, aren’t they?” I asked my husband between sips of hot coffee as we both stared out the window. 

“It’s how they survive,” he shrugged matter-of-factly.

 I understand that, I thought. And the morning rolled on lazily…

An Ineffectual God

Several weeks ago, I shared with my friends and family a blog post on the outcome of our pregnancy with our second-born daughter Alisa. I titled that post When God Says No, detailing our journey of prayer and faith for Alisa's life and health, finding out in the end that she does in fact have Down syndrome. What I did not anticipate was how our story would spread so quickly as a result of this blog post. Largely, the response was positive. Many of you could relate to our journey because you, too, have had a similar experience with your child, family member, or friend. Others responded because you were drawn to the honesty of praying to the Lord with desperate prayers, only to find in the end that He said "no" or answered in ways much different than you desired. Whatever the reason, God has used our journey to bring together thousands of people who have wondered at the mysterious ways of God's work in our lives. 

I was, however, contacted by some who did not resonate with my message of faith in a Supreme God who said "no" to my prayers. 

As we all look to a new year of new beginnings, may we wash in the cleansing of Christ and live each day for Him. Let us cast off the burdens of the past and embrace the hope of our future. May we chase the genuine life that is not encumbered by regret!

“What If”

To the Weak, He is...

Last week, I sat down with two therapists who were evaluating Alisa. "The good news," said one therapist, "is that she automatically qualifies for therapy. This evaluation is only a formality because of her disability." 

The good news.

Good news? It didn't feel like good news to me. I know in a sense this is a good news, because even though Alisa shows no signs of needing therapy at this moment, she will undoubtedly need it eventually. But good news? As a mom, I have to disagree. It certainly did not feel like good news.

The delicate pages crinkle beneath my clumsy fingers as I turn them. The sound of each page turning draws me inward to the story beckoning to be read. I breathe deeply the scent of leather and paper, the mixture of these smells filling my mind with memories of the countless times I have thumbed through these pages. My eyes fall upon the black letters. To some, they might seem to have no real value, just words on a page that tell a meaningless story. But to me, these words are life. They are sacred, they are ancient, and they are an invitation. To any that might dare tread upon deeper waters, these words draw us in to know the heart of God, the mind of Christ, the ways of the Spirit. “Taste and see that the Lord is good,” these words beckon.