Glimpses of Glory

Ellie & I had a good girls' day in Dallas today.  She's such an easygoing baby - she truly has the gift of contentment and I am so thankful.  All of her naps were either in a car, in my arms, or in a bouncer in therapy - & yet she does so well and stays generally happy.

(We also crammed in a store or two  - I love shopping with my girl & am so excited to do girl trips to Dallas to just shop someday (without doctors appointments hopefully.)

The hospital was insanely crowded today.  Here she is in a waiting room:

I have no xray pictures - she was screaming through those.  Good news, though.  Her hip looks good - tight and stiff but good!  No surgery in immediate future! :)  Praise the Lord!

Here she is happily playing in an exam room:

Crashed out during therapy & splinting

And awake

Working on a baby chew stick.  

(Yay Ellie Girl!  Look how good she is getting her hand to her mouth! :))

I became sort of teary eyed in one waiting room today.  It was insanely crowded and there were many kids in wheel chairs, on crutches, with walkers, prosthetics, etc.  I visited with one mom whose son was in a wheelchair and blind and possibly had some cognitive issues as well.  I  offered help as she wrestled him out of his chair to cuddle him.  In no sense of the word did that chair "confine" him or his spirit. 

But I wasn't tearing up because I felt pity.  I didn't feel sorry for any of us.

Rather, as I looked around the room, I saw kids playing with siblings.  I saw children being disciplined.  I saw people grabbing a quick bite of a sandwich in between appointments while they waited.  I saw a teenager with tatoos and purple hair and while I personally didn't care for the style - I'm sure in many ways it is the norm among "kids these days"  (I feel old.)  I heard laughter and squealing.  I read stories to Ellie.  I sang to Ellie.  I heard couples talking and saw people on their cell phones.  

And I saw one girl, a teenager, in a wheelchair who was becoming agitated and her father was sweetly holding her hand and gently caressing it.  Surrounded by so much noise and activity and he was calming his daughter as only a Daddy can.

And I was humbled.

  

Because I sat in the midst of a room wildly and loudly displaying the creativity and glory of God.

Parents who chose life for their children.

Parents who despite abnormal circumstances, are living such normal lives.

Children, though differently abled, who are precious and fearfully and wonderfully made.  

Quality of life is not determined by ability.

Value can not be measured. 

Mommies reading and singing and talking and playing and cuddling and rocking and daddies stroking hands to calm and soothe away fears.

I sat in the midst of it and I soaked it all in. 

Because in that room, I was surrounded by those who get it.  I was enveloped by those who know the blessings.

How our joy overflows.

When I think of Jeremiah 33:3, Call to me and I will answer.  I will show you great and unsearchable things you do not know, this is what I think of.  I think of how I never could have imagined how very normal this would seem to me.  I didn't imagine how great and wonderful and precious such moments of normal would become  - that even on days filled with xrays and therapists and specialists, even on days of tears and anxieties, even on days that are difficult and exhausting, even in the midst of the most challenging of circumstances, that there is normal and beauty and His glory shines through -

But of course it does.  He created each of these precious ones.

We're just some of the lucky ones that get to be their mommies and daddies.