Immeasurably More

All we wanted was breath.

Enough lung tissue to breathe. A rib cage that grew large enough for that lung tissue to develop.

That request alone seemed like a pie in the sky, I know you’re powerful enough to do it, but it’s going to have to be you Lord request.

And so we prayed. Every day. Every night. We just prayed for those little lungs. We knew there would likely be other challenges and complications and struggles, but we would handle those as they came. We just. wanted. breath. Enough breath to allow us to get to know the little one squirming in my belly.

But…but we serve a God of immeasurably more.

And if there’s one characteristic of God that Bella has most profoundly schooled us in, it would be that.

He is a God of immeasurably more.

From the first scream, to being sent home a mere 3 days after birth, to weight gain, to a broken heart that beats so well surgery can be postponed…day after day, appointment after appointment the Lord continues to do immeasurably more than we could have ever asked or imagined for our Beautiful Grace, our Beautiful Altar.

Last week Arabella had appointments with an occupational therapist, a speech therapist, and the cardiologist. She had been enrolled in the Early Intervention program by our pediatrician because it was assumed with her unique features she might need a little help meeting developmental milestones. Instead, both therapists declared her past the expected milestones for her age. At her age, she’s expected to sit for 30 seconds, using her hands for balance. Our determined girl, whose perfectly formed arms do not reach the floor, sat upright for the entire occupational assessment. The therapist commented halfway through that usually she has babies sit in a high chair, because it’s too hard for them to concentrate on sitting and use their hands for the test. But not our Bella.

During the pregnancy, when we talked about the slim possibility of survival, Jeff liked to quiz the doctors on what challenges and limitations our daughter would face. The doctors replied that she would certainly develop at her own pace – that she would just have to show us what she was capable of. Bella likes to show the doctors that she is capable of immeasurably more.

The cardiologist confirmed on Thursday that there was no need to continue any medication for her heart and that we would have immeasurably more time than we imagined before surgery.

Now if only we could get her to sleep immeasurably more, we’d be in really good shape. But I guess we can’t expect her to do everything well.

I wrote this post last week. And I had an entirely different conclusion to the post than what follows. But when I came to the end of writing, I just couldn’t bring myself to click “publish.”

This journey with Bella seems to make every pregnancy story, every story of a mama and daddy given impossible news, every story of a babe taken far too soon, stand out in bold relief. I know what it is to walk into a hospital fully expecting to walk out with empty arms.

Only they weren’t empty. Perhaps it’s survivor’s guilt? But when I write of our immeasurably more, my heart aches and I can’t help but wrestle in my heart. Jesus, why? Why does your immeasurably more for brothers and sisters…others who know you and your power deeply…not include rosy cheeks and a chest that beautifully rises and falls? Why us? Why have we been given this gift? I know full well that it is not what I deserve in anyway – I do not deserve my own breath let alone my daughter’s breath.

And Jesus leads me gently back to the summer. He leads me back to the same questions He asked in the sweltering days of not knowing. Do you believe I can do immeasurably more in grief and sorrow and pain and achingly long momentary suffering? Do you believe I can truly create beauty from ashes? That I take all life, even the briefest of life, and give it meaning and purpose and beauty? Do you believe that ultimately I AM immeasurably more? That I am the only immeasurably more? You have walked the dark night, you have seen how much brighter my presence shines there.

And I bow my knees and my heart and I say, Yes, Lord, I believe. Would I have still believed if I had walked out of that hospital with empty arms? Driven back to Wenatchee with an empty car seat? Would I have been strong enough to cling to you then Lord? And I hear Him gently say, you may not have been strong enough. But I Am. And I would not have let you go.

The why…I don’t understand the why. Why the saving of the one, and the bringing home of another, brings the greatest glory. Because that’s the purpose of the immeasurably more. Look at the verse below. The end isn’t our momentary happiness or comfort or satisfaction. The end aim of all the immeasurably mores is the Glory of the Lord.

I don’t understand the whys and this side of eternity I will never understand. And that’s the thing. Only within the framework of eternity can I find rest for my wrestling mind. Only in the knowledge that this time on earth is but a brief inhale, a momentary battle where darkness is still present, do I find the ability to say, “It is well with my soul.” Only in that knowledge can I hope to say to my brothers and sisters who right now grieve the empty cradle, He is good. He is immeasurably more.

“Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.”