Dear Bella Bees (From Daddy, May 31, 2015)

Dear Bella Bees,

You are growing so big!  Some days I just want to pick you up and squeeze you, maybe even throw you up in the air in playful fun, though I imagine mommy might find that a bit uncomfortable.  May you know that we, and others, many others, are praying for you.

I had a thought the other day.  You are entirely at the mercy of someone greater than yourself; someone you have neither seen nor whom you can possibly fathom.  Your world is smaller than a watermelon.  So, you’ll wake up, do your morning swim, followed by rigorous gymnastics, a few punches to mommy’s bladder at opportune moments, an appreciative kick here and there after a good meal and few special gyrations when a strange voice talks to you in the late evening.  And all this will take place in your watermelon.  By now, you’ve gotten rather accustomed to your watermelon, and you may even find it comfortable, if a bit cozy.  You need not worry about food or drink, breathing, bathroom breaks or any countless number of concerns outside of your little abode.  What’s more, you are unaware that every element of your life is being met and cared for, such that you cannot be thankful for these things.  You don’t realize that your life is actually taking place inside someone else who is allowing for your survival and sustenance.  You live in bliss as a result of your innocent ignorance.

As your parents, we think we understand the perils that will face you outside your little watermelon.  You’ll need a good set of lungs to facilitate breathing, and to keep up with your crazy sister (who is presently jumping off the couch).  You’ll need a strong, fully developed heart to pump the blood that will sustain your little life.  You’ll also need about a thousand other things to go just right to think, to move and survive in what can seem like a harsh world.  The cards are stacked against you, Bella, so say the doctors.  For now, you are safe inside of mommy, who protects and provides for you, but what following, when your fragile body must be tested through independence?  What then?

This thinking reveals a certain truth.  While you may be blissful in your innocent ignorance, I am scared, frightened even, in my ignorance, even as I refer to it as being “realistic.”  I know that your lungs are not likely to develop absent significant growth in your thoracic cavity.  I know that your heart needs careful repair.  I know that your limbs are short.  Too short.  And I know that I’m scared about the things that I don’t know.  I suppose it’s because, in the 32-years I’ve amassed on this Earth, I’ve come to realize that the world is complex, much more so than life confined to a space no larger than a watermelon.

But what if the life I see as big, complex and scary is really just another watermelon, albeit a much larger one?  In which case, the only difference between you and I, Bella, is that you are satisfied, happy even, and I am scared and sad.

Your mommy loves you very much and is doing her utmost to ensure your comfort.  Your daddy, too, is praying that your little chest will grow for the benefit of your lung development.  But while we pray for what we know, there remains so much that we do not know.  If our world is but a fruit in the eyes of your Father, our God, and if we believe that he is good, and there are so many reasons to believe this truth, Bella, then may we also know that whatever the outcome, you are in better hands.  You will be ok.  You will be cared for.  There is a plan, and you are part of that plan.

As we prepare to see you again tomorrow, we are excited to see your squirmy profile and nervous about the numbers that will be displayed beside it.  My selfish prayer is that the numbers will indicate continued improvement and a likelihood that your mommy and I, and your sister, Ellie, will get to enjoy you on this Earth.  That’s my selfish prayer.  But, seeing as how God is ultimately in control, he may decide that you belong with him, in which case we’ll have to put our patient hats on and trust that this God, next to whom we are infinitesimally small, loves us better than we’ll ever know.  It’s this love that will lead him to make the best decision regarding your home for this season.  And so we wait.

While we wait, I thought I would share a few happenings in the Johnson house.  We still have holes in our ceiling, the upstairs toilet is in disrepair, though no longer flooding, and I saw a mouse in the house two days ago.  If that mouse was thinking our house was a sort of ark or safe harbor, as in Noah’s days, he was gravely mistaken and should head right back out the door.

Eliana has been practicing both her singing and her dancing.  It’s a sight to behold.  She’s got the fast feet, twirl, and flailing down to an art; a poor art, but an art nonetheless.  In other news she’s gotten stingier with her kisses, and you were the lone recipient this morning.

Oh, and you may recall more twirling and jostling than is typical about a week ago.  That was probably the tea cups.  Although, it could have been the carousel or the dumbo ride.  All four of us went to Disney.  One of us (can you guess who?) was a bit cranky on account of being sick, but Goofy (or Gooky, as someone affectionately calls him) always brings a smile amidst tears.  It was a maiden voyage to Disney for you and Ellie, but hopefully not the last.

That’s pretty much it in our neck of the woods.  You keep doing your thing.  Give mommy a special kick to the bladder for me.

Love you, Bella Bees

Daddy