Before I finish introducing you the the rest of my wonderful family, I feel driven to tell you a true story. This is the season of miracles, yes. Some have happy endings (c.f. MckMama), some have different endings (c.f. Bring the Rain), and some endings break my heart (c.f. Sponbergs). THIS ending is truly a Christmas miracle, and she's 16 years old this year.
When I was pregnant with HRH, lo these 17 years ago, I was the tender age of 34, and still thought that I knew better than God. (Note to everyone: you NEVER know better than God!) We had had a friend from church, about my age, who had given birth to a little girl (their only girl of 4 kids) with Down Syndrome. So, I thought, in my infinite wisdom, that if that's what was in store for me, then I jolly well wanted to know about it in advance - so I could "prepare" (translation, cry a LOT).
Enter prenatal testing: a simple blood test, which screens for elevated levels of 2 proteins, one of which can indicate spina bifida, the other which can indicate Down Syndrome. Of course, when the results came back, one of the levels was high, suggesting a risk of birth defect - Down Syndrome. This was in September, 1991. The doctor's office immediately referred me to the local teaching hospital, as they had the latest technology, the most doctors, and the longest waiting periods I've ever seen. The hospital was all in a rush, because I was already at 16 weeks, and if I were to choose to terminate the pregnancy, time was wasting.
Note to followers: abortion was NEVER an option. So, we went to the hospital for ultrasounds & amniocentesis, worrying more about the results than about the process. Well, during the ultrasound (which was VERY high-definition for the time), the doctor discovered two cysts in one of the ventricles of our baby. Not a good thing - it could set the baby for hydrocephalus, mental retardation, and more. They went through with the amnio, tell me it would be a month or so for the results. In the meantime, I had this baby in my belly, who might or might not survive. This is what's known in the Christian world as a "storm."
I had to go back each month for more ultrasounds, checking on the size of the cysts, looking for any defects, etc. In October, we got the results of the amnio, which were perfectly normal - I even got a copy of my baby's DNA. But the cysts were larger that month.
In November, it looked like they were shrinking some, but I still had to go back in December for another ultrasound. Along this time, I had been doing some serious "talking" with God. What finally happened is that I had to verbally, mentally, and spiritually submit to God's will, and tell Him that whatever He chose to do would be all right.
Now, we're to the December ultrasound - did I mention that it was done in the week before Christmas? Doctors have SUCH a good sense of timing. Well, guess what! NO cysts! Nothing! They couldn't find any evidence of the baby ever having had any. Healed? By golly, YES!!! My Christmas miracle.
What did I learn from all this? I will NEVER think that I know better than God (well, I try to think that, I'm not perfect). I always try to pray in God's will, rather than in what I want (and think is best). I've learned to turn everything over to Him, and He will work it all for good (Romans 8:28). He does, and He will.