The Real Miracle

"I do not believe that sheer suffering teaches. If suffering alone taught, all the world would be wise, since everyone suffers. To suffering must be added mourning, understanding, patience, love, openness, and the willingness to remain vulnerable."
-Anne Morrow Lindbergh

Let me preface by saying that this is Jaska. On behalf of the March of Dimes and all those (including Jenn, Jonah, Isaac and myself) who benefit from the work they do, let me say THANK YOU to all those who donated. There are so many worthy causes out there, I am very grateful to those who sacrificed to a cause that has become so dear and personal to us.

As Isaac's time in the NICU feels to be coming to a close (knock on wood), I've been thinking about this "Miracle of Hope." Isaac's progress hasn't been the miracle. I knew from the moment we thought we were going to lose him that he would turn out okay. I knew it with unprecedented (for me) calmness and surety.

For me, the real miracle is the literal meaning of the title of our blog. The miracle of hope- not for Isaac, but for us. Isaac didn't need our hope. We needed our hope. I really don't know how anyone could get through this type of experience without faith or hope- in something, in anything. I don't think I would have gotten through this trauma without having experienced God's calm, direct, clear and strong assurance from the very beginning. To me, that is the real miracle. He could have been silent; he could have helped Isaac progress the same way without cluing me in. The real miracle is that God gives us what we need to make it through the shit we just don't think we can slog through on our own. He gives us hope.

I have often thought "Why me?" I am so very humbled by Isaac's life being spared, but my joy is tempered by the sorrow others have faced. Isaac has walked through the valley of the shadow of death and has survived- even thrived. Nearly concurrently, a friend and his wife lost their baby; the fathers of three separate friends have been diagnosed with cancer; another friend recently lost her husband to cancer; a friend I had hoped to make lost his battle with cancer; and my best friend's mom died in a terrible accident. Maybe "why me?" as regarding outcome is the wrong question; maybe, if hope itself is the miracle, then "why me" disappears, and we are all left with equal access to God's hope, however unfairly distributed outcomes may appear.

I don't know. It is difficult for me to understand why some people's suffering is "but for a moment" while others' is permanent. I can only hope that all those who suffer are equally blessed with whatever it is they need to bear their burdens. People have often said to me during this experience that they admire our strength in bearing our burden. But I don't feel strong. I never had any strength of myself, but what was loaned me.