Flowers in the Valley

 "I'm having vibes of a mom who's just given birth to a new baby," said one Nigerian brother as he looked at me and Mariama lying side by side in the hospital bed, the dome mosquito net unzipped to welcome our visitors.  The fact is, Mariama was born in this clinic 11 years ago, and today marks 2 weeks since she got very ill, resulting in an emergency surgery on Monday, October 19th surrounded by the people that welcomed her into the world.  Sitting with her in the hospital as she recovers, brings back a lot of those first feelings of a mother so in love with her girl that it hurts and thankful tears overflow.  She said today, "When I saw you and daddy here next to my bed this morning, I realized, "This used to be it! Just the three of us.""   Right, sweet girl, you made us a mommy and a daddy. 

 

Heading in to the surgery. Mariama is on my back. She couldn't walk because of pain and being so tired and unsteady.

 I would not have chosen to stand outside an operating room in Jos, Nigeria, wondering what the doctors were going to find when they opened up the stomach of my first born who hadn't been able to eat for over a week.  But the sweetness of this time with my baby, the closeness of God and his people as they are praying all over the world has stirred something that had become dormant.  I feel my heart has expanded again to embrace the grace that accompanies the lying down of control (Which I never had anyway) and experience a stillness in the chaos, the promised "peace that passes all understanding." As I did when my twins were born 9 weeks early, I have had to say over and over, GOD is good, God IS good, God is GOOD. 

 

 

Mariama doing her best to smile because she sat up for the first time since the surgery when she was just thirsty and tired.

Mariama and I have a theme song for this time which we listen to with our eyes closed multiple times a day, tears welling.  It's called "Flowers" by Samantha Ebert. The chorus says this:

"So I brought it up in a desperate prayer
Lord, why are you keeping me here?
Then He said to me,
"Child I'm planting seeds
I'm a good God
and I have a good plan
So trust that I'm holding a watering can
And someday you'll see
That flowers grow in the valley"

 The rest of our family left for retreat today, our annual retreat that we look forward to all year.  The grief of missing this event is very real, but so is the closeness we feel as we struggle to train the bladder, start drinking fluids again, and maybe taking some light solids tomorrow.  We have finished two books together, had countless people visit and pray with us, experienced divine intervention and timing, witnessed God providing the qualified professions needed, seen doctors across the ocean rally to help us navigate this hard time, and sweet fellowship with Jesus. 

 Those "vibes" are felt because this mom feels like she's had a new birth, re-discovering the beauty of motherhood at the crossroads of pain.  So thankful that God is planting seeds that will blossom to make valleys spring to colorful life.  May it be so, may it be so. 

Today when the NG tube was finally taken out! 

 

Glory and Flowers

 

I sat on a rock, overlooking a pond created by a lake.  I looked down to my left and saw this flower, delicate, intricate, hidden.  Surprised by a God who would put such beauty in such a hidden place, I thanked him for the gift of seeing.  My friend, Janel, had been reading "The Weight of Glory" by C.S. Lewis on this retreat, and the quote she read to me returned:

 "There are no ordinary people, you have never talked to a mere mortal...But our merriment must be of that kind (and it is, in fact, the merriest kind) which exists between people who have, from the outset, taken each other seriously - no flippancy, no superiority, no presumption.”  

 This luxurious expression of God's glory and creativity could have grown, bloomed, and died without anyone ever seeing it, and it would have fulfilled it's very purpose, to display and please the Creator.  That being so, I am convicted of two true things: 

 1.  If my whole existence is wrapped up in catching the child jumping into my arms and returning her cuddles, giving her worth and affirming the glorious person she is, taking her seriously, then I have done well. 

2. She, this blooming flower, matters. She, and every small or big person that God has put in every corner of his beautiful world is an expression of his glory and it matters not if anyone knows their name or their existence, because they exist in their perfectly created state to bring joy to their Creator.  My role in this perfect order is to see, affirm and rejoice in every blossom that I have the privilege to behold.

 

I am especially reminded of this on today, October 15, when my little sister, Leah Watkin, is turning 41.  Her beauty is unparalleled and I'm so thankful for the invaluable lessons on the importance of one soul that I've learned from being her sister.  It's actually hard to NOT take Leah "seriously," as C.S. Lewis says. Her extraordinary ability to see and accept a person without  justification of their worthiness of that gift has made me tender to others and to my Creator.  She is a flower that has bloomed in one corner and change her world, changed my world. I am deeply grateful I have had the joy of beholding her.