Heart vision....

This morning, I have a terrible headache.  Its not surprising really, as it is Sunday.  That's the one day Satan throws all kinds of ammo my direction to keep us from church.  He probably thinks he won since I didn't go to church.  BUT... what he doesn't know is we don't always have to GO to church, to HAVE church.  I sat right in my living room this morning and I had church.  Spent  some time with the Lord, and spent a lot of time reflecting in my heart of all this Season has always meant to me and always will mean to me.  Oh, church was had Satan... you failed again, my main enemy! 

And even better, we will head down later today to a Christmas program that we are super excited about, so you will be defeated yet again.  This headache is already under prayer for removal and I have no doubt I will be ready to go tonight!  Oh, and by the way, thank you for giving me a reason to move slow this morning and just spend some time alone with God with no agenda.  I was able to really keep perspective about the week ahead because I have really spent the time I needed remembering just why it is I love Christmas. And since I had that time, I thought I would pass on some thoughts to my blog readers... whomever you are, wherever you are, and for whatever reason you happen by to read today. 

Let's get some truth out there first and foremost.  I am a family girl.  I love traditions and memories and home and security.  I do.  It's in my blood.  I am not, have never been, nor will ever be a loner.  God created my heart for people and family is at the very top of my list.  Some of my most warm reflections of this season are the traditions shared with family over the years of my life, from when I can first remember until now.  I cherish the memories I have as a child growing up and I cherish the memories now as my own children are growing up. I cherish the extension of traditions that came when I married Todd and got the rest of my family into my life.  And I cherish the extensions that have come through beautiful friends that are as close as family.  I realize every time I reflect, how blessed I am in my life and how good God is to have created me to have a heart for people and place so many wonderful people in my life for my heart to celebrate. 

To realize I will not be home with my family on Christmas for the first time in my entire life... well it stirs strange emotions.  We will celebrate.  I have no doubt we will have a wonderful time sharing our love of each other and Jesus.  And I know Christmas is when you celebrate, not what the calendar says.  But the fact is, we will celebrate on Christmas this year, along with the delayed celebrations that will come, and it will be very, very different. And my heart feels a twinge of sadness every time I think of it.  But, I must confess, I am still excited because I also believe there will be something very magical about having no place to go, no time schedule to follow, and no expectations to fulfill other than our own.  It will not replace the love of sharing celebrations with all that we love, but it will be beautiful.  I already sense it.  Something special will happen because no matter where we are and no matter who we are with or are not with, if Jesus is the center, magic happens. 

And when I think of magic happening, always I am drawn back to Tuffy's life and what we all were given through Christ's touch on all of us through him.  Today, with my headache blazing, I am thinking of him and the constant deep pain he felt in his head all the time, and yet the magic of Christ overtook the pain and the twinkle in his eye grew stronger as his little body grew more and more frail.  I have shared with some the beautiful details of his final day.  But today, I want to really share of the miracle that it was.  Yes, the day he died was a miracle.  Not the one I prayed for, but one that has impacted our lives into celebration of even when the answer is NO. 

Before that day, Eathan, our Tuffy, was so, so sick.  We were rushing into the ICU every 7-10 hours at best, from his little body going into shock.  We had crossed into the place of only comfort care and had painfully signed the "Do not resuscitate" papers that had haunted me for months, knowing the attempt would only cause him more pain and suffering.  We had somewhat come to the place where we were willing to let go and let God, so to speak.  We no longer stayed in the hospital for more help.  As soon as he was stable enough from another transfusion, we rushed home, almost as quickly as we would rush in with him, so that we could savor those last weeks, days, hours, minutes, with him.  It was the hardest thing I have ever done... and the most beautiful thing as well. 

His little body was tired.  He had a stroke and couldn't move his left leg without pain.  The bleeding had actually worn his skull down and his little brain was exposed through the massive wound on the back of his head, that never healed from one of the surgeries attempted on him.  And ultimately, the bleeding had stolen the vision from his sparkling blue eyes.  Our precious son was in darkness in his pain.  It was gut wrenching on more levels than I have words to explain.  But that little boy laughed and smiled and talked as if he was perfect.  Somehow, in my acceptance of what was coming, I grew to understand it was because he was not in darkness at all... he was in the light of Jesus.  More than anyone I had ever known before, he was in the light of Jesus.  I hated the physical war, but the spiritual realm was so tangible that I could almost see Jesus Himself in the eyes of my son.  A gift I will never forget, never take for granted, and NEVER stop sharing.  If only one person needs to hear this story today, then that is why I share. 

So his final day was the Sunday after Thanksgiving, November 25th.  We had been in the hospital through the night and the precious nurses had surprised me with making beautiful crystal molds of Eathan's hands and feet.  They had no idea they were capturing every detail of the little hands that I would no longer be able to hold in just a few hours.  We slept a couple of hours, until dressing change, and then I awoke with the plan of decorating our home and making it as normal for all the kids as I could, for the incoming season of celebrating our Savior's birth. 

I endured the treacherous task of changing my sweet baby's dressing on his head.  I always cried harder than him because it hurt him so much.  It was every 2 hours and I never ever got used to it.  He wouldn't let anyone else do it.  He trusted me alone with the task, but I hated it.  HATED it.  But as gently as I could, I prepared him with clean dressing and then cuddled him as close as I could while I moved him and all of his IV lines and machines to the living room couch.  We turned on Christmas music, Todd brought in the boxes from the attic, and the joy of the season begin to spill out into our home.  I will never forget how beautiful he looked all cuddled up on our couch.  He was laying on his right side, propped up on a pillow, with such a tender look on his face.  I would look over about ever 2-3 seconds in awe of him.  He was truly angelic.  I had no idea it was because the angels were probably already there, preparing him. 

I pulled out his favorite Santa from the year before.  It was a dancing Santa.  It played music and Santa would shake his hips from side to side.  Tuffy and all the kids loved it.  At the time, it was just me and him in the room.  Todd and the kids were putting something up in the front room for me.  I picked that Santa up, sat him on the TV and pushed the button that brought him to life.  I began to sing and dance around.  Eathan propped himself up on his right arm, leaned his head back, and said, "Mama, YOU so FUNNY!"  I halted in my steps!  I knew he could hear the music and I hoped he would recognize from the sounds that it was his favorite Santa.  But HOW did he know I was being funny?

I said, "Eathan?  Can you SEE me?"  He laughed his adorable laugh and said, "You dancing Mama!  You so funny!"  I began to dance around the room, watching to see if his eyes followed.  THEY DID!  My son could SEE me!  God had given him his vision back.  It was a MIRACLE!  A beautiful Christmas miracle.  One that would not be as I suspected it to be, but one that would carry me through Christmas that year and every other, knowing without a doubt God was in the business of miracles just as He had always been.

I have told the story before I know about it being just hours when he leapt into Jesus's arms.  I won't go there today.  If you want, you can scan the pages of my blog and read more about the rest of the miraculous day my son met Jesus.  But today, I want to remember his EYES... his SIGHT... the gift of SEEING and how it affects me every day.  And how, if you dwell a moment yourself on it, it will affect you to.  It was powerful.  It was... well....miraculous. 

One of the most beautiful things about Eathan was his eyes.  They were blue and sparkled brighter than the sky.  He had lashes that laid down on his cheeks when he closed them, that were as dark as coal.  Talk about stunning.  I could get lost in those beautiful blues and he could get anything he wanted out of me... and out of anyone else for that matter.  When he lost sight, I grieved that almost as much as his entire disease, ravaging his body!  How could something so incredibly breath-taking, be broken?  Oh it hurt my heart. 

What I learned however, was the eyes were not beautiful because of how they looked, but were beautiful because they didn't see the way we see, even when they worked.  I learned very quickly that Eathan still saw everything even when things grew dark.  Eathan saw with his heart and God never took that from him. And because of that, I learned even more the value of seeing with my heart as well. 

I have always had a tender place for people.  Always.  I remember in 5th grade, two of my friends were going to "fight" outside the school playground after school.  If they are reading this, I bet they are both smiling.  I remember getting between then, completely freaking out, and yelling "Jesus wouldn't like this!"  I don't remember if they fought or not.  I just remember how very, very sad I felt that they might.  I couldn't stand it so I ran.  I love people and I care about what happens to them.  Sometimes that brings a lot of pain because when you throw your heart out there, sometimes it gets very hurt and stepped on.  Not everyone sees with their heart. 

But as much as I already loved people and loved from my heart, Eathan truly taught me through his blindness, how to SEE from my heart.  And I know, with every ounce of my being, He not only saw with his heart, but he saw with his heart that was so closely held by Jesus, that even the most lost, were drawn to Christ.  I saw miracle upon miracle of my little boy's life changing hard hearts.  I SAW it.  And he did to, in the most pure, beautiful, amazing way possible.  His blindness hurt us, not him. 

But that final day, God knew I needed him to see with his eyes one last time.  I had prayed for his vision as much as I prayed for his total healing.  God was gracious to answer BOTH prayers... in one day.  When Eathan could see me that day, my love for Jesus almost overwhelmed me to the point of near heartbreak.  I knew, that moment in time, Jesus himself had come to me just as he had physically come to so many hurting while He walked the earth.  My son could see because Jesus needed me to know how very, very close He really was to me.  He knew, in just a few short hours I was going to need Him more than I could ever understand... even to this day.  He knew.  He hurt, so He came even closer... through my son's eyes.  THAT is the kind of Savior I worship.  THAT is the kind of Savior I serve.  THAT is why no matter what I have hope.  He is THAT kind of God. 

Today, I miss Eathan.  I always have and I always will.  And though he died that day, I knew even in my pain, that really, he had just begun to LIVE.  Because MY Savior came near.  He took my son home that day.  He came, somewhere in the midst of my panic drive back to the ICU again, and He ushered my son into His loving arms.  Before that, He came and ushered His presence into the world in a manger, in the form of a baby.  And soon, He will  usher Himself in a great return on a great white horse.  But until then, He ushers Himself into our lives, in our hearts, through the Holy Spirit.  And if we just pause to let Him, He will help us see HIM in the midst of whatever is taking place.

I will miss our family so much this Christmas. I will miss Eathan so much this Christmas as well.  But I will NOT miss my Savior for He is with me, even unto the ends of the earth.  "For unto you a child is born, in the city of David... His name shall be called EMMANUEL!" 

He IS my PRINCE of PEACE! 

Funny... my headache is easing up... and I haven't even made it to the med cabinet for medicine.  Satan thought he was keeping me home to destroy my Sabbath.  But Jesus ALLOWED me to stay home to savor HIM and increase my Sabbath. 

With heart vision-love for you each one,

Robin