Praying Through A War Wound
alec vanderboom
I realized that I'm having a hard time praying for Miss Emma because I'm a former NICU Mom. You think it would make it easier, but its harder sometimes.
It's like I've got this hidden scar tissue, that I don't even know is there until I start using that muscle in prayer. First, I realized Emma's accident violated my unspoken contract with God. I was totally cool with accepting that every time I got pregnant in the future, I was going to struggle with anxiety that a birth defect would land us back in the NICU. That is a hard struggle, but I took a false comfort that my intense anxiety would only be for a"fixed moment in time."
Emma's situation highlights that a serious health concern can happen to any of my children at any moment in time. A Life and Death trip to the ICU isn't simply limited to the time they are fragile newborns. I'm so not cool with that, God! Ugh, I need to revisit that "Jesus, I trust in you" Physical Therapy schedule again.
Secondly, it hurts my heart to see people not pray for Emma. I was in a situation where I called it "spinning plates." There were two people who were standing next to me when I asked them to pray for Emma. My request made them massively uncomfortable. Rather than say, "Wow, this situation is really scary, I'm not sure I want to talk about it." They started what I called "spinning plates." The conversation jerked around into some really strange directions, the two of them tossed around different plans and ideas that had nothing to do with prayer, and I felt rushed out of their presence as quickly as possible.
I felt awful. My first thought when I got back into my car was "God, please don't let Maureen feel like I did!" Where did that come from? Why was this suddenly about me?
I realized only later that this is the opposite angle of the abandonment I felt when my daughter Tess was in the hospital. I feel so ungrateful writing about this--because I know God was with me! It's just this father wound I have. There were men that before Tessy's sickness I had as father-figures to my soul. When they didn't show up or call during her hospital stay--I just assumed they physically didn't know that I need them. So when I see avoidant behavior worked out in front of your during a PICU prayer request--even though it has nothing to do with my own child years later--it hurts my heart.
After the "spinning plates" episode, I couldn't solicit anymore prayer requests or even create a Facebook page for a few days.
But today I'm back. Emma's got her cross to carry today. I've got mine. My job is to love on my babies and my spouse as best as I can, be gentle around this hidden war wound, and trust that all of this emotional pain brings great Glory to God when carry our hidden crosses for Him and with Him.
It's like I've got this hidden scar tissue, that I don't even know is there until I start using that muscle in prayer. First, I realized Emma's accident violated my unspoken contract with God. I was totally cool with accepting that every time I got pregnant in the future, I was going to struggle with anxiety that a birth defect would land us back in the NICU. That is a hard struggle, but I took a false comfort that my intense anxiety would only be for a"fixed moment in time."
Emma's situation highlights that a serious health concern can happen to any of my children at any moment in time. A Life and Death trip to the ICU isn't simply limited to the time they are fragile newborns. I'm so not cool with that, God! Ugh, I need to revisit that "Jesus, I trust in you" Physical Therapy schedule again.
Secondly, it hurts my heart to see people not pray for Emma. I was in a situation where I called it "spinning plates." There were two people who were standing next to me when I asked them to pray for Emma. My request made them massively uncomfortable. Rather than say, "Wow, this situation is really scary, I'm not sure I want to talk about it." They started what I called "spinning plates." The conversation jerked around into some really strange directions, the two of them tossed around different plans and ideas that had nothing to do with prayer, and I felt rushed out of their presence as quickly as possible.
I felt awful. My first thought when I got back into my car was "God, please don't let Maureen feel like I did!" Where did that come from? Why was this suddenly about me?
I realized only later that this is the opposite angle of the abandonment I felt when my daughter Tess was in the hospital. I feel so ungrateful writing about this--because I know God was with me! It's just this father wound I have. There were men that before Tessy's sickness I had as father-figures to my soul. When they didn't show up or call during her hospital stay--I just assumed they physically didn't know that I need them. So when I see avoidant behavior worked out in front of your during a PICU prayer request--even though it has nothing to do with my own child years later--it hurts my heart.
After the "spinning plates" episode, I couldn't solicit anymore prayer requests or even create a Facebook page for a few days.
But today I'm back. Emma's got her cross to carry today. I've got mine. My job is to love on my babies and my spouse as best as I can, be gentle around this hidden war wound, and trust that all of this emotional pain brings great Glory to God when carry our hidden crosses for Him and with Him.