Posted by: Michelle Knoll | April 16, 2013

A Tale of Two Kings – When Peace is Shattered

When the girl and her husband arrived at PICU the next morning, they discovered not only the surgeon standing at the little king’s bedside, but also the resident cardiologist.

The cardiologist was not her favorite.

After the surgery was complete the day before, and the nurses had found the problem with the medicine pump, and the little king was settled and sleeping, the girl and her husband met this cardiologist for the first time.  His first words had left her feeling icy cold:

“Wow, we almost lost your son!”

His entire manner, his voice, his jovial attitude, all were inappropriate as far as she was concerned.  She bristled at his words, but decided not to respond to his thoughtless comment.  After all, he had information that was vital to her understanding of what was going on.  And the information he shared served to deepen the girl’s belief that the greater miracle was the fact that God had kept their son alive these last ten months.

The hole in their son’s heart was in the middle wall, the septum, and it was the size of a nickel like the surgeon had said.   But the amazing thing was, the nerve connection between the top of the heart and the bottom, between the two nodes, ran right across the hole.

Amazed at his report, the girl and her husband had said more prayers of thankfulness to God for His watchful care of their son.  And were encouraged by the fact that the repair meant he was going to live and get better.  And stronger.

Today, however, this cardiologist had no goofy comments to make.  As a matter of fact, he didn’t make any comments at all.  The surgeon did all the talking.  And what he said wasn’t encouraging.

Were those tears in his eyes?  A sinking feeling crept into the girl’s heart, as she stood across the pediatric bed from this man.  And waited.

“I don’t understand what’s happening,” the surgeon began, and then stopped.

The girl’s husband asked what the problem was.  He also noticed the surgeon wasn’t being very forthcoming with whatever news he had for them.  The girl placed her hands on the railing of their son’s bed.

“I can’t explain this to you all,” the surgeon started again, “but it’s almost as if your son’s heart is developing more holes!  It’s,” he took a deep breath to keep from crying, “It’s almost as if his heart is falling apart, cell by cell.”

The walls of her Red Sea roared in her ears, as the girl gripped the railing tight.  In the back of her mind, their enemy’s maniacal laughter screamed above the waves of fear.  What in the world!?  He was FINE the night before! Resting peacefully!

She turned and looked out the window, toward the tower of the University Chapel.  Inside she screamed, God!  PLEASE!  This can’t be happening!

The surgeon wasn’t finished, however.  His voice brought her back into the now, into this room where her son lay, still fighting for life.

“If he doesn’t do better, if we don’t see a turn-around in the next 24 hours, you all will need to face the idea of a heart transplant.  I’m sorry.”

His words slammed against her chest.  She looked down at their son, her knees getting weak.  God, where are You?  You said You would never leave us, nor forsake us.  WHERE ARE YOU?  Her hands fell from the railing, as she looked at her husband in disbelief.  Heart transplant!?

Her husband wrapped his arms around her, and held her close.  “God’s not done, honey.  God’s not done.  He said we would return with our son, that we would bring him home.”

She looked in his eyes.  She knew his words were strong, but she could see from his expression that he was battling, struggling, just like she was.

They walked from PICU into the waiting room, into the arms of the little king’s grandparents, and shared the grave report.  All were silent at first, but then all had comfort to share, encouraging words to give.  Phone calls were made to other family members and friends.  The girl was grateful, but she knew: the war wasn’t over, and the biggest battle was in front of her.  The walls of her Red Sea were still apart, true.  But they weren’t that far apart right now.  She was on dry land right now, but would it still be dry in 24 hours?

Setting her face like flint, she faced the walls with determination.  Her enemy, the enemy of all mankind, had been laughing at her just a few minutes before.  In her spirit, she had heard him.  She knew he was back there, behind the walls of fear, still taunting her, still spitting out insults and attacks on her soul.

Well, all right then.  If this was the way things were going to go, if their enemy really wanted to pick a fight, she would step into the fray.  She would put back on her battle armor and she would seek directions from her Father, the Lord Most High, on how the battle was to be fought.

And fight she would.  Under orders.  With all her heart and soul.  She would draw her sword, and she would see the glint of its power shine in the eyes of their enemy.

And their enemy would be sorry.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Categories

%d bloggers like this: