What happened to my miracle?

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God, I have to be honest (which I think you prefer over lip service): believing you had healed my baby only to find out her condition has worsened and she has to undergo surgery is hard. I feel like a kid at Christmas who unwraps the gift I’ve been begging for all year only to discover it’s faulty and has to be sent to the manufacturer for repairs. And all the other kids around me are happily playing with their presents and showing them off and posting pics of them on Facebook.

I know that you are not a genie in a magic lamp who I can summon at will and present my wishes to. But you said in Luke 17:6: “If you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it will obey you.”

I’m pretty sure I had at least a mustard seed of faith, possibly even an acorn. And just in case I didn’t, I asked my friends and family to pray too so that all of our prayers together might be enough to move your hand.

And when you were¬†knitting Lucy together in my womb, as per Psalm 139:13, we prayed that she would have the best of Jon and the best of me in her. I’m not sure how this translates into a genetically pre-disposed hip condition. Did you drop a stitch?

Walking with you can be perplexing and some scriptures seem so paradoxical. I find the older I get and the more I read and experience, the less I know.

But I’ve walked with you now for over twenty years and there are a handful of things I do know beyond a doubt. I have experienced the truth of them enough times to be convinced of them:

You are a good father. (Psalm 100:5)

You will never leave me or forsake me. (Deuteronomy 1:6)

You are constantly at work to make every circumstance beneficial for me. (Romans 8:28)

Lucy gets so upset now whenever I leave the room and I have to console her on my return. I find myself saying soothing things like, “Oh my baby, just because you can’t see me doesn’t mean I’m not here”.

And, “My darling, you need to learn to trust me. I’ll never leave you on your own.”

And, “Lucy, everything I’m doing is only for your good.”

And I can almost feel you poke me in the ribs and chuckle and say to me, “Sound familiar, Jen?”

And then I know – regardless of the confusion of prayers seemingly unanswered – that everything really will be alright.

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