But it took 32 years to fully understand it.
Because I was pregnant with 2 ️precious babies for 29 weeks and 6 days. And for the last 9 weeks and 6 days, I knew that without a miracle, my child would die. Every single day for 78 days, I begged God for the miracle that would let my child live, and breathe, and grow normally. I begged God to protect her brother so I wouldn't lose him too.
I couldn't pray enough.
I couldn't beg God enough.
I couldn't cry and worry enough.
So we prayed, begged, cried and worried until we could get the strength to do so again. Because He was our only hope. Because we were their parents.
Because no matter what, at all cost, we were supposed to protect them from harm, nurture them to health, keep them safe.
Toward the end of my pregnancy, there was mention by our specialist that we would discuss our options at our next visit. This meaning that we would chart our course...make decisions which would make us acknowledge that Jax would be the only baby we brought home. Value his life and health above his sisters.
Because that's what common sense would tell us to do.
Because that's what medicine would tell us to do.
Because there was no hope for my Harper.
And for the first time in all of those weeks of praying, worrying, and crying I felt totally helpless. Even with all of the evidence in front of me, I couldn't imagine making those decisions. I couldn't imagine giving up hope. I couldn't imagine giving one child's life for the other. Even if it was to save the life of my sweet ️precious Jax.
And somehow in my grief, my confusion, and my worry...I finally understood the sacrifice God made for me thousands of years ago...
Someone who hadn't been born yet.
Someone who would make horrible choices.
Someone who would be angry at him at times.
Someone who would lie, judge others, disobey her parents, and under-appreciate the blessings he would give her.
Someone who was a sinner.
He did the unimaginable, the thing I could never have done. He gave his son's life.
For your neighbor.
For that bully in your child's class.
For the facebook friend who has vastly different political ideologies than you do.
For the wealthy, the poor, and the middle class.
For the selfish and the giving.
For the ones who've mistreated you
For the ones you've mistreated.
For the liars, cheaters, and thieves.
For the terrorist, the child predator, and the dictator.
For all of us.
And where I struggled so, and had countless sleepless nights contemplating the mere thought of making such choices, he did this freely. He didn't hesitate. He didn't second guess. He gave. When his child begged for his life. He gave. When his child was lonely and afraid. He gave. When his child suffered at the hands of bullies and tyrants. He gave.
Because He knew that one day a chubby little girl with a mullet in Arkansas would ask him to be her savior. And that little girl's path wouldn't always be easy. And that little girl would make bad choices. And that little girl one day would face unimaginable heartache.
Because he knew me.
He knew I would need his spirit to guide me, his grace to redeem me, his love to surround me, and his strength to sustain me.
He knew me because I'm his child.
And he loves me with a love I can't even begin to fathom.
A love that it pure. A love that is kind, patient, and unselfish.
A love that gives. A love that sacrifices.
"Could we with ink the ocean fill,
and we're the skies of parchment made.
Were every stalk on Earth a quill,
And every man a scribe by trade.
To write the love of God above
Would drain the oceans dry.
Nor could the scroll contain the whole,
Though stretched from sky to sky.
Oh love of God
How rich and pure
How measureless and strong!
It shall forevermore endure
The saints and angels song."