Mom's Story, Part Five

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Click here to read Part Two
Click here to read Part Three
Click here to read Part Four

PART FIVE:

I held Vicki in my arms and asked myself the question, “If this tiny life that God has entrusted into my care is not beautiful and cherished by me, her own mother, what hope is there for her?”

My tears fell on her head as I realized my lack of love for my own little girl. I began to sob as I confessed my shame to God. Then I asked Him for help. I could no longer do this on my own.

As I prayed, I held Vicki close, soaking her pink jammies with my tears. Then, like the sudden appearance of the sun on a cloud-shrouded day, she stopped crying. She seemed to be at peace, at last. And so was I.

One evening not long after that, my husband and I left the children with a babysitter and droe to our church. There we found a tiny room in the basement where we could be alone. We shut the door, left the lights off, and prayed together. We were desperate. We needed the Lord’s leading, and so we poured out our complaints before Him and pleaded for His help.

I am not a person who sees visions; but as we prayed in the darkness of that tiny room in the basement of the church, I saw in my mind the image of a huge hand. Though I could see nothing more than the hand, I knew it was the hand of God. And there, nestled in the palm of that hand, stood my husband and me. We were surrounded by darkness, but there was complete peace and safety there in the palm of His hand. Then, in my mind, a tiny light appeared, far away as though at the end of a long tunnel. My thought was that God was telling me that the journey ahead, the journey into disabilities, would be dark and often scary, but we would go through it in the palm of His hand. We had no need to fear, for He would take us through whatever lay ahead.

I shared what I had seen in my mind with my husband, and we were both encouraged. We went home and slept well that night.

Not long after that, a man my husband had once worked with called. He was now a sales manager for another company, and he offered my husband a job. We were ecstatic. It appeared to be a great opportunity, with a medical supply company that not only offered a good salary, but excellent medical benefits as well. But there was a catch. We would have to move across the country to Philadelphia.

We prayed about it, not wanting to do anything outside the will of the Lord for our lives. We remembered the image of God holding us in the palm of His hand and knew that He would take care of us. After much prayer, we accepted the position and moved to Philadelphia.

After settling into our new home in a suburban area, we contacted Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia and set up an appointment for Vicki to be seen. Our appointment lasted an entire day, as we were shuffled from one specialist to another. The day was draining and tiring for all of us, but we were relieved to at last be told what Vicki’s condition was. She was diagnosed with Hypertelorism with a median facial cleft. This is a rare condition where the two halves of the face do not properly fuse together, resulting in abnormal distance between the eyes, as well as other anomalies. Not only did one of the specialists know what the condition was, but he had been specifically trained to treat it by a French physician who had pioneered the necessary reconstructive surgery. Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia was only one of three facilities in the U.S. where surgeries were being performed to correct such a condition.

Now, not only were we in the exact location where Vicki could be treated, but my husband was employed by a medical company who agreed to pay for all further surgeries and expenses. We marveled how the Lord had moved us to exactly the right place where Vicki could be helped.

Though in many ways, we still felt as though we were in the long dark tunnel that I had seen in my mind many months before, we now began to see the tiny light ahead. But what did the journey toward that light yet hold?