Make Room For Daddy

The news we carried it heavied our hearts and minds, a boulder of unthinkable possibility. His condition we heard, he needed prayers, this was serious and I knew the knee had to bend low, pleadingly, humbly, low. When family is sick, very sick, I get edgy inside, faith turns slippery, oil slick of worry. I found myself fretting, those vexing thoughts they tumbled into words and spilled all over earnest attempts at swallowing whole. Stowed away inside like a packet of thwarted love letters, unfaithful, traitorous. My husband kindly reminded me to "stay positive" and I turned deaf ear at his sage advice. Unannounced tears welled while working out at gym, driving in car, preparing dinner. Doubts nagged, and I wondered why oh why wasn't I a male named Thomas?Long hard months we have prayed, please God, a miracle of healing, victory over this wretched sickness. Stealing furtive glances at cell phone, inwardly dreading all text messages, all emails and phone calls, I continued hot pursuit of One who knows all,  the beginning and end. Feverish prayer, pleading and thanking, petitioning and thanking. And then I saw God's love note, written by Oswald Chambers: "Always be in a state of expectancy, and see that you leave room for God to come in as He likes." In husband's secret language code: Make room for Daddy. On Friday, the day the doctor's predicted would be the decisive day for prognosis, I drove down a street under canopy of pale blue wintry sky. Familiar sound reverberated from inside my purse, message pulsing, announcing, I pulled over to side of road. Hesitantly, I retrieved the phone, flipped open cover. Rush of hot tears spilled, heart beat slowed to steady rhythm, and I laid my forehead on steering wheel. The engine idling, cars whizzing by, and I stayed there, postured in thanks. Is this it then? The trusting thing that opens the door that I nailed shut with doubt? Light now seeped through crack of fear, an eternal glow of  faithfulness. He is breathing now so we catch our collective breath and wait for God's next move. Releasing pent-up doubt, murmuring now familiar mantra, words that spring life into bones, steroids for the heart, thank you, I whispered. And a refrain that often leads me down shadowy paths that curve and twist and warn with a bright yellow Yield sign, it hums me through the recent days now, waiting, expectantly, hopefully:

Never once did we ever walk alone
Never once did you leave us on our own
You are faithful, God you are faithful

The lyrics subdue my doubt, and I take that next step forward, wielding prayers with renewed hope, waiting, expectantly, sliding over to make more room for Daddy.