It had started out as an ordinary day on that cold November day back in 1984. I was 9 weeks pregnant and although morning sickness was hitting me hard, I needed to work. My husband was still in school, hoping to finish and get a job around the time the baby was born and I was the primary breadwinner. Little did I know, I would not be coming home that night.
I struggled to get through the day. If I could just make it until the after 2:00, I could go home early but get paid for a full day. Shortly after noon, I became extremely ill and to my horror, there was blood. I called my clinic and was ordered to get to the hospital immediately. Thankfully, I was able to get a hold of my husband.
At the hospital, it was discovered that I was becoming so violently ill that I'd torn my esophagus. Nowadays, the drug they gave me is listed as an allergy on my chart... in great big letters. However, back then, I'd never had it before. Unknowingly, my doctor was exacerbating the situation. I was becoming more ill.
As I finally became more stable, I was told they were going to do an ultrasound early the next morning. I also learned they were very concerned about my baby at this point. Too little to pick up a heartbeat, an ultrasound was the only way for them to see how the baby was doing.
Later as I lay in the darkness staring up at the ceiling, tears rolled down my face. I was 23, scared and alone at the moment. My mother was in the process of moving to New Mexico and my husband was going to a job interview 70 miles away early the next morning... at my insistence.
I'd gotten a "roommate" earlier that evening. She was furious that she was being put in a room with "that sick woman" and she made sure everyone, including people walking down the hall, knew it. I felt humiliated as I struggled to control my illness.
Was my baby okay? Was my baby even alive still? I didn't know but I knew the One who did. In my despair I cried out to the Lord and suddenly, I became aware that God was in this place. Would I be willing to place myself... and my baby in His hands, no matter what? In this world and the next, there is no better place to be than God's hands.
I lay there thinking for awhile. Then, with all of my being, I "gathered up" my baby and placed him in God's Hands. I did not know what they would find the next day but whatever happened... I wanted my baby in God's hands. Instantly I felt at peace. God had us... no matter what.
My son is now 25 years old with a home of his own. He and his wife are starting their own journey of learning to live by faith. He lost his job shortly after he was married. He managed to find a part time job and they praised God for it. He has a permanent part time job of only about 20 hours per week and yet... when everything was said and done, he worked a total of 51 hours last week. God is meeting their needs day by day. Regardless of our circumstances, we can rejoice knowing that we are resting in God's hands and that is the only place to be.
[quote]Regardless of our circumstances, we can rejoice knowing that we are resting in God's hands and that is the only place to be.[/quote]
Absolutely, and always!