Fearfully made

Katarina, body stiff, gasping for air, hands reaching towards me. All I can do is to rub her back, sing to her, pray for her and assure her that the God of the Universe is in control of whatever scary things may be happening in her little body. He knows, He cares for her and He loves her. He hears her cry, however weak. "The angels are around, just for you my baby…" I sing over and over.

I turned my back to the bare and white room and rested my head on the side of her crib. There are no monitors to tell if this child should loose her battle with death, if she should get tired, if she should close her beautiful dark blue eyes forever that are now so filled with terror and pleading. There would be just six beds with five little sleeping bodies to witness. "But the angels are around, just for you my baby…" All the noise in the world is her breathing. All the world is Katya and me in the hands of the Almighty.

Gently I twist one of her short brown curls, matted with food and saliva. I begin anew the verse, telling of the work of the angels when my child is ill. My child is very ill. This is my child. I slide my finger down her hugely swollen cheek. If she really knew what awaits her in this world, would she fight? Her body may always be stiff. She may never walk or talk, she may never see more than this white, bare room. And there is nothing I can do about it. Am I being selfish wanting her to fight?

I came to Ukraine excited and with grand plans of what I wanted to do for these hurting little ones. I wished I could deliver them the best there was of everything and I knew I was called by God to do so. I wanted to make connections, tell the world of them, rescue them. But at this moment of helplessness I realize I cannot do anything. It is in His hands. I have to trust Him to tell me His plans, this day, trust Him with Katarina, trust He is good. He had made her and He had made no mistakes.

Katarina's Song (taken from Psalm 139)
You hem Katarina in – behind and before;
You lay Your hand upon her.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
it is so high that I cannot attain it.

For it was You who formed her inward parts;
You knit her together in her mother’s womb.
I praise You for she is fearfully and wonderfully made.
Wonderful are Your works;
that I know very well.

Her frame was not hidden from You,
When she was made in secret,
intricately woven in the depths of the earth.
Your eyes beheld her unformed substance.
In Your book were written
All the days that were formed for her,
when none of them as yet existed.

How weighty to me are your thoughts O God!
How vast is the sum of them!
I try to count them – they are more than the sand;
I come to the end - I am still with You.

Search me, O God, and know my heart;
Test me and know my thoughts.
See if there is any wicked way in me,
And lead me in the way everlasting.
(adapted from Ps. 139:5, 6, 13-18, 23, 24)

This does not mean I will give up dreaming big for these little ones. My God is super-sized and I am asking for His dreams for them! As I reluctantly get up to go home, I whisper , "Fight, my baby, fight!" And I am sure all the heavenly hosts are joining my quiet cheer.