THE HOLMESTEAD HOW YA' DOIN'

Saturday, November 14, 2009

Do You Know My Jesus?

I was thinking just now about when Matt and I sat in the OB/GYN's office the day that we had Asher's 1st sonogram. This being our first full-term pregnancy, we were not educated enough to know how a baby should look on the sonogram monitor. We knew that the person administering the test had a tone of concern in her manner. The only thing she said to us was, "Would you like to know the gender?" That was it. No, "here's his eyes, his tummy, his baby parts." Nothing. She just finished the test in silence and printed out at least 30 photos from her screen. She then turned to us and said, "I need to ask you to leave this very moment and go to your Doctor. He will explain everything there."

That walk from one room to down the hall was similar, I believe, to that last walk of a person heading toward execution. I knew that something ominous loomed at the end of that hall. I knew my world was going to change at the end of that hall. I just didn't know how severely. Part of me just wanted to run full speed to the nearest exit. But, instead, my calm and collected husband took me by the hand and led me down an ever-narrowing corridor to our fate. After being told the news that Asher suffered from "Choroid-plexus" cysts on his brain and that there was certain evidence that he had Trisomy 18, we were escorted from the hospital to our car.

We then drove 1.7 miles to a genetics lab for further testing. Again, that was at the time the longest journey of my life.Upon arriving and being brought to a cold, dark, sterile room, I was given a Level II sonogram to investigate the 1st doctor's suspicions. There, on that glowing monitor, was the image of my son. The son I had prayed for. The son I had been dreaming of. The son whose baseball games I had already attended in my mind. The doctor proceeded to point out every single organ and system of my son's body. Not one thing was fully functional. Not one system was developing in its proper pattern.

After the sonogram, the doctor got up from his chair and picked up a piece of paper lying on a small table near the door. On that paper, my name was clearly printed at the top as was the date. That doctor handed me the paper and asked if I wanted to "take care of things." I stared at the monitor for a moment and then back at the doctor and said, "What do you mean?" He said, "Well, we could go ahead and schedule the abortion today if you would like." I sat up on the table and let out a loud moan. My husband said, "Why would you say such a thing, doctor?" His reply was, "Because there is minute possibility that this baby will even be born, much less live more than 2 or 3 days." To that, my amazing husband said, "Well, I guess you don't know my Jesus, then, do you?"

I am reminded of that question right now. I have spent that last 10 years of my life in a full-throttle quest to know that Jesus. My Jesus came to earth supernaturally through the womb of a virgin. My Jesus grasped closely to the fellowship of His Father. My Jesus gave His every moment, every second, every breath for the sake of the Will of God. My Jesus was a funnel of the miraculous power of God, demonstrating it without reservation and without prejudice. My Jesus was bold in the face of sin and pride. My Jesus interceded on behalf of those who had no voice. My Jesus knelt in prayer during many, many hours just to have fellowship with His Father. My Jesus suffered more torture, ridicule, opposition, and harshness than any man before Him or since. My Jesus looked death in the face and gladly gave His life in order to repair a chasm He did not create. My Jesus took upon Him my sin, my shame, my sorrow, my diseases, my shortcomings, and my pain. My Jesus went to Hell for me so that I won't have to. My Jesus conquered death for me. My Jesus is seated at the right hand of the Father on High and is my High Priest. My Jesus lives and reigns forevermore!

My Jesus is who equipped me to walk the journey of Asher's life and to boldly expect medical impossibilities to come to pass for me. My Jesus is why our precious son lived 10 glorious months. My Jesus is the reason why, at the emergency room on the day of his death, the pediatrician who had been Asher's doctor sat in the room with us just so he could witness how we handled that situation. My Jesus is the reason that pediatrician rededicated his life and his medical practice to the glory of God.It was because I pursued with diligence the Jesus my husband so boldly referred to in that dark doctor's office that I now have 3 perfectly healthy children. We were told to never try for any more children and, if we did get pregnant, to never again expect a child to be fully functional or developed. I am so glad that I know that Jesus and that I allowed Him to be the final Word in my life. The laughter ringing throughout my home today is the evidence of my Jesus in my life.

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