Tulips droop white.
Yesterday, my friend gives them to me. She reaches out remembrance. She has not forgotten that they are my favorite.
I place them on my kitchen windowsill.
Gentle snowflakes fall outside. Tears fall down my face.
Eighteen years past. A hospital room with tulips white on a sill. Alone I rest upon the bed, waiting for what is next – the arrival of my first born. He is coming early. I am scared.
Today, I pull a picture from the past, off the shelf.
Today, is his birthday.
I feel my heart full, swollen. I remember him inside. Safe. Secure. Near to my heart, nestled under my rib cage warm and then he was born. Out of me, but not far from me.
Under duress, he entered the world. My heart yearned then. It yearns now.
“It’s okay, Andrea, cry.” I feel His Spirit speak to me.
“Why did it have to be this way, Lord?” I whisper back.
The Lord knows, it is not only the early birth, it is my son’s special needs that I think hard upon.
I ask for reassurance that all will be well.
My heart droops down, too.
I am overwhelmed with what is next for my dear son.
I cannot speak; words within fall short, too. God knows. He does not need my words.
And then a Voice of Hope heralds itself in to my heart: nothing slips through the hand of God. Do not be afraid.
Nothing. I don’t understand. I wish it were different, but my different is not what God deemed.
And so I go back to what I know is true – God is sovereign and God is good.
I lie down limp, on the pillow of these truths.
As I rest, I thank God for my boy, now becoming a man. I am proud of him.
Thankfulness helps me see. The Lord helps me believe.