Because He Can

The past few days have been rough...really rough. Quinn's poor little forehead is blanketed with bruises and scabs. My heart has been ripped out as I have watched my baby bleed due to the insensitive seizures. I want to feel numb. I want my emotions to just be turned off. I want to feel nothing. At times I have found myself avoiding eye contact with Quinn because it hurts too bad. He is almost constantly in a state of seizure; he is just not there. He smiles at me but has a hard time speaking. Every once in a while I'll get a kiss but then the kiss is quickly stolen and masked by the awful seizure that has kidnapped my child.

On Monday morning I received an email from a sweet friend who is in India on a Humanitarian Service Project. She is there working in an orphanage for children whose parents are suffering from Leprosy. {and I think I have it bad} This particular morning I was feeling really down. Alone. Desperate because I, as a mortal, can not possibly take this burden from my sweet baby.

I began to read and the flood gates were opened.

I wanted to share a little piece of this beautiful experience with you.

She sets the scene where she is headed into a little hostile which houses orphaned-disabled children. She and a few others went to spend time with these kids. There was a communication barrier. They communicated through smiles and song. One little girl in particular warmed my heart and made me realize the veil is so thin for these special little children:

...The little girl that I was sitting next to turned around in this corner of nothing and pointed pulling my arm. I tried to say "what are you looking at" and she grabbed my hand gently and pointed again. Then she began to stare with a smile so Christlike it made me cry. She stared and stared into this corner for almost five minutes and held out her hand as if something was reaching for it.

There was nothing there.

I watched as this little girls eyes slowly followed the ceiling where she waved. I started to cry. I had the most overwhelming feeling that I knew without a doubt that there was an angel in this room and I have never felt so strong about something before. She looked at the ceiling for a while and then looked at me and grabbed my hand.

The past few days I have felt a myriad of emotion all revolving around the reality that I can not protect my child from everything.

I can't catch every fall.

I do not have the power to take the seizures away.

I am struggling watching my son suffer.

I am alone.

No one really understands what I am going through.

No one really knows what it feels like.

And then I remembered....

...There is someone. Someone who knows what it feels like to watch His Son suffer the unthinkable. Someone who could take the pain away but didn't because he loved us more.

Quinn is God's son.

He feels the same pain I feel as he watches from above.

This story helped me remember that in my mortal state i am doing ALL that I can possibly do.

And after that, God will comfort his babies. He loves them even more than I do

{which is hard to believe}.

He will protect them because He CAN

He will take away their pain because He Can.

He will send angels to be with them...because he can.

He will bring them home if the pain is too much for their tiny bodies to endure...

because he can.

And I....I have to have faith. I have to step aside and let my Father take care of his tiny child who he happened to send to me. He knows better than I do. He can do much more than I can. He is perfect and He will take care of him... perfectly. I will do everything in my mortal power to protect my child. I will go to the ends of the earth until this is over. I will not give up. I will stand by his side and hold him in my arms as long as he will allow.

And I believe that between Me and God...Quinn is in pretty good hands.