Thursday, February 17, 2011
Powerless Except For Prayer
But the other night, as I lay in bed staring at the ceiling and praying that maybe tonight would be the night his fever broke, I found myself broken, but in a different way. My heart suddenly went out to every single mother on earth who has to watch her children suffer in terrible, terrible ways, yet is powerless to do anything about it.
If it's difficult for me to watch a fever and wait for the doctor to decide what to do, how hard is it for a mom to watch her children slowly, day by day, die of malnutrition? How hard is it to watch your bald, pale child lie in the cancer unit of St. Judes Hospital, knowing there is no cure? How hard must it be to watch your child suffer with infection or malaria or some other disease and know there is no available medicine. Laying warm in my bed that night, I felt a desperation for those whose situations are far worse than mine.
These are problems which demand a resolution, but to which one is not available except by the grace of God. I'm thankful that antibiotics will likely soon heal my son, but I'm maybe more grateful that I was given the small opportunity to look beyond myself and my own comfortable world and have a chance to ponder the severe hurts that only God can heal.