Awhile back, I admitted to my husband’s honorary big sister that I had stopped praying for Adelaide to be healed. It was something I hadn’t shared with anyone before that moment. The admission felt like betrayal. Against my God and my daughter.
I’ve been told that Adelaide just needs me to believe she can achieve. Not by one person, but several. It’s an underhanded comment. The insinuation: you’ve spent 3 years not believing enough. If you did believe, she would be achieving more.
And maybe I don’t, but I know God isn’t withholding anything from Adelaide due to a heart issue on my part.
God is sovereign, but we still operate under certain parameters. Sin really messed things up in this world. And even though I believe in post-Ascension miracles, that doesn’t mean Adelaide will be healed. God doesn’t owe that to Adelaide. It would be a gift, if He decided to grant it.
And, yes, I gave up praying that He would. Because it’s painful to ask when I first wake up in the morning or before I go to bed or a hundred times in between for something so big. So life-changing. When Adelaide was a baby, I boldly asked God to heal her brain and her body. I begged Him. And then I stopped.
I switched my prayer to asking for muscle strength. Or speech. Or zero seizures. Or a dozen other issues that fill our day. But that fervent mom prayer from years ago, it’s completely gone.
I want it back. But when I say the words, “Please make her brain folds normal. Please regrow her missing brain matter. Please restore her hearing loss. Please give her speech. Please make her body work correctly. Please tell her to pick up her mat and walk!” I can’t get the words to sound sincere. I believe He can do it. I just don’t believe He will.
I guess I also fear that, if she can understand what I’m saying, she’ll grow up wondering why it never happened.
But maybe she’ll grow up wondering why I never asked.
I ask for the easier things. Skills. And some of them eventually come. With so much hard work. In this imperfect world, she tries harder than most people will ever try. Her gains are slow and have the rhythm of a cha-cha. Always forward and back. Forward and back.
If my belief is necessary for her achievement, then I guess she is at a disadvantage. At least in this season. I could fake it for the world, but God would see my heart. Know that I struggle with the miraculous. And I don’t think He’d wag His finger at me and tsk tsk. I think He’d hug me and tuck my unruly hair behind my ear.
Jesus didn’t heal every person who needed it. He brought salvation and redemption to every person…which was the biggest miracle of all. We are all going to die. Even Lazarus, who was healed from death, went on to die again. And normal bodies and brains aren’t the priority. A heart that follows after God is the objective.
So I pray more that Adelaide will love Jesus and follow Him. If she were healed tomorrow, I would be overtaken with more joy than I can even imagine. But that joy would be overshadowed if Adelaide ended up having the cognitive ability to understand God’s rescue plan for her soul. To comprehend His love.
Before I was a special needs mom, I think I had more faith. Because faith is easier when life is easier. I am not saying it’s right to take miracles off the table. I’m just saying it’s where I am right now. And Adelaide is still achieving milestones despite her weary mama who battles an apathetic unbelief some days. Okay, most days.