Sunday, June 12, 2011

Evening Prayers

Right now my wonderful husband is reading to the girls and saying prayers with them. The girls clamor to get to go first, lifting up the very real concerns of their life. "Dear God, I pray for the boo boo on my leg and the line on my butt I got today when I was in the sun without sunscreen . . . " They pray for friends, for our upcoming car trip and for their stuffed animals. Then Alex prays for Joshua, that he would someday be completely healed.

It's a bittersweet thing to hear that. He's modeling for his little girls a belief in and a hope for miracles. I don't do that. I pray that Josh would use his words more and that he would complete his potty training. When I am alone, I pray for other things that I am desperate for, like that he would stop playing with himself in public places. But I don't pray for a complete healing. I just don't have the faith to even ask for that. But I am touched when other people do.

Hope and Anna are growing up with so many things being "normal". Praying for very real, up close miracles. Watching TV, oblivious while their older brother screams his head off under a big blanket right next to them. To them, their brother is their brother. The only brother that they have ever known. It's so amazing to me how much of their reality is shaped by what goes on in this house, in this household. I hope, with all my heart, that the imperfect love and the mustard seed of faith that we have and that we model to them is enough to give them a good start on a good life.

1 comment:

  1. There is a little boy named Luke at the school where I taught this year. He has severe autism and he looks just like your Joshua. I would see him in the halls with his aide, and think of your family.

    And I hope for him, but as you say, I hope for little things. I hope that one of these days he would hear me say "Hi Luke" and he would look my way. Or that he would smile in response and keep eye contact for a moment that was long enough to prove that he was choosing to look at me.

    And I hope for you, my sister. But I confess that I am afraid to hope for things that seem too big. So today, I hope you truly know how amazing you are. I hope you know that I count myself blessed to have lived with you for one year. To have enjoyed sharing your wedding day and the weeks leading up to it. I hope you know that you inspire so many. More, I am sure, than you are even aware of. I hope you have laughter every day and that your sleep is uninterrupted. And I will hope with you, for those things that you hope for.