Healing and Heartache

Camdyn is on the mend.  Her torso shows more skin than bandages and attachments, now...a reverse of what it was exactly three weeks ago.  She's bouncing around and being goofy 95% of the time.  If you didn't know her and couldn't see her fresh scar, you'd actually be unable to tell she had open heart surgery three week ago.  Last nnight after her first regular bath in weeks, I dried her off in her hooded, pink, bunny towel and she hugged me...she hugged me tight.  She's always been an affectionate girl.  But we've been very careful not to be too rough physically.  It was a really good hug.  A perfect hug.  One that I longed to give her since three weeks ago.  And it felt wonderful to embrace her and be embraced by her in return.

And then I remember.  I remember the other rooms in the PICU filled with children.  Children who came in after we did, and children who had been there before we ever arrived.  And my heart aches.  It aches for the children whose families don't visit.  It aches for the parents who stay at their child's bedside.  It aches for the babes who have only ever been able to call the hospital "home."

And I am reminded of my own words.  Words that sting when I call them to memory.  Words about our lives being at a standstill, from this post.  And they sting because we are now on the other side.  Our life has resumed (mostly - at least we're home!)...and many of the others?  Their lives are still at the awful standstill.  They're still waiting. They're still hopeful, prayerful, discouraged, exhausted, uncertain.  They're still searching, even.  And I feel their pain.  Then I feel torn.  Torn between complete joy that my little heart warrior is doing so well, and deep sadness that many others aren't.  And then there are those that have lost the opportunity to fight.  They've lost their precious lives. 

And I am burdened by what their families must be feeling, though I don't know them directly.  Then, I wish that we did.  That we could bear their burdens with them (Galatians 6:2) and somehow help ease their pain, to be there to comfort them.  And in reality, there isn't much that we can do.

But, we can pray.  Boy, can we pray.  We've been on the receiving end of those prayers from those we've never met...many times.  Prayers from people who know the people that we know.  Prayers from people who know our "screen names" and little else.  

But we could feel their prayers.  

Our hearts were full and our prayers were answered, each step of the way.  There's safety in numbers, friends.  Pray.  Then pray some more.  Keep the prayers flowing as easily as the breath within you.  God wants us in constant communication with Him.  Let's do it.  Let's pour our prayers out to the Father who is asking us to do so.  Give Him whatever is on your heart and in your mind...even if the Holy Spirit has to do it for you.  

It's what we're called to do.

Pray for your family.  Pray for your friends.  Pray for your neighbors.  And pray for the people you've never met.  Chances are, at some point, a perfect stranger has said a prayer for you, too.