Ben celebrates his 20th birthday today. Two decades of hard earned breaths and heart beats. There are few areas of his body not yet managed by specialists. He's had more surgeries than birthday cakes. Both medical history and current condition is complicated and overwhelms intake paper work. And yet, his miracles are knit together by these things too. This uncommon life made Ben into Ben and our family into us.
I always slip into reverie at the start of May. This time, I happened to be on the 7th floor of the hospital where that first code was called. It was the anniversary of the day he was decannulated three years later. Just walking by the curtained glass of the regular newborn nursery and hearing a baby's heartbeat on a fetal monitor jettisoned my psyche back to those first mind numbing panicked moments of parenthood. I guess that's a hallmark of trauma. That event split me forever into two. Who I was before and who I am becoming.
A few months ago I learned more details about that first arrest from someone that was there. Someone who later became a friend. Someone who directly had a hand in saving Ben's life. God gave me the gift of knowing that story. A story that brought me healing and even more awe and wonder at God's intricacies of mercy. The moment that I would once have described as hellish, has been somehow washed by the light of heaven. It has become holy, marking the place where I finally reached up to heaven to take hold of God's outstretched never wavering hand. Today I feel gratitude for that event. Falling to my knees, looking to heaven in astonishing hope, wiping hot tears, thankful. Who am I that my Lord should come to me?
His Hands are busy orchestrating unimaginable perfect labyrinths of serendipitous wonder and yet they remain infinitely open. Ben has endured more than his fair share of suffering. What share is fair? Ben is fond of saying, "a little pain never hurt anyone." I promise there is beauty hidden in these hard years. The anxiety and stress is sanctified over time into surrender and unseeable strength. We've mettled. We've meddled. We've medaled.
I remain in awe as Ben wraps up his freshman year of college, living, thriving rather, independently away from home. Studying miracles, no less. I've so missed being in his presence. I miss the dynamic he has with his siblings. I miss his banter and quips. I even miss the sounds of his airway vest and pacing the floor at 6am. But I must have reached a new tier of parenting level, the one where I'd rather have him living out God's will for his life than snuggled in my nest.
Surely Ben tires of my nostalgia. My weepy birthday greetings may abrade. But I promised God I would tell the world what He has done. I keep my covenants.
The Lord has done great things for us, and we are filled with joy. -Psalm 126:3
I'll never stop hoping life will become easier for you. I'll never stop praying for your health and safety. And I'll never stop thanking God for the gift of you.
Happy Birthday Ben. We can't wait to celebrate together.
Allow the one who bore you another trip down reminiscence road.
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