How many times have we been there, felt that helpless, hopeless sense of "nothing more I can do"?
Today, my dear friend has been with her baby girl at the emergency room. I say "baby." In truth she's 7, but catastrophically handicapped and brain-damaged. My friend and her husband adopted her almost three years ago; she'd been in foster care since she was abandoned at birth by her mother. Her needs are many: she can't sit, speak, or move on her own, except reflexively. She does not eat, but is tube fed around the clock. She has been subjected to medical procedures she can't begin to understand that have caused her weeks and months of pain. She will never walk or talk, or use the potty, or go to school or learn to read or sing or dance. She can see and hear, but there is no way to measure how well. But she can laugh and smile, and for all her misfortunes, she continues to grow and thrive, for she is surrounded by a boisterous family, full of love, that works very hard to engage her to the extent of her capabilities.
Last night, her father woke in the night to check her in her bed, just because he had a feeling. She was burning with fever and fighting for air. When she began to vomit, her mother decided she needed to be seen by the doctor. They have spent the day at the hospital, had a battery of tests run, and in the end, are bringing her home, still not "herself." There is almost no way to evaluate what happened to her; they can only know what's NOT wrong. The fever is down, and her feeding tube is clear and properly seated. Nothing seems to be wrong...but she is still not right.
And so...we pray. And if you have a moment in your own day, please say a little prayer for her too, will you?