It's been almost a year since Sam was diagnosed with Russell-Silver syndrome. It took some days to process that information, and I struggled with the projected adult height for him of 4 feet, several inches. But I did what I often do, and wrestled on my own for a time, not wanting to get really messy in front of God. Like Adam and Eve, I think I can hide from Him. I think I can cover my nakedness with polite and appropriate prayers: Lord, I have so much to be thankful for, it really doesn't matter how tall my son is when he grows up. Perhaps you are calling him to be a missionary to a hidden tribe of really short people, and that's okay with me. This could be good for him. Maybe strengthen his character. So, really, God, whatever You think. I'm fine with whatever.
I remember the day and the field I was sitting in when I forgot my manners and let Him see what He already knew anyway. While wild wheat swayed and birds soared overhead, I groaned. God, I don't want this for him! The truth is, my mother heart longs for the very best for my son. I want him to have a normal life. I want him to be able to drive a car comfortably and reach the top shelves at the store. I want him to play sports with his friends and not get stepped on. I don't want him to get a crick in his neck from gazing up at his wife. I don't want him to be defined by his height. I let it all come spilling out...all my fears, my pain, and disappointment.
And despite the vastness of the field, I felt like the Father hugged me and spoke the words I needed to hear. I know. I'm a parent, too. I understand, and it's okay for you to want these things for Sam. You can ask me for the things you want. Don't be afraid to ask me. I love to give my children good things. I will always have Sam's best interest at heart, and I will give you even more than what you are asking me. So with beating heart and tear-stained face I asked. I asked for no less than what His own Son, Jesus had when He was a boy: to grow in wisdom and stature and in favor with God and men. (Luke 2:52)
And almost a year later, this boy is growing! We see Dr. Smart every three months, and each visit is another dot on his growth chart. His dots have always floated in that vast blank space that hangs below the standard growth curve. But now, we see his dots are doing something. They have a purpose. They are making a path up to that bottom line. Almost there! Almost a line to hang on to. Soon, no more floating in nothingness. And we look at each other and smile every time, because we know Who it is bringing Sam up out of nothingness and setting him on a rock. "Phenomenal growth!" said Dr. Smart at our visit this week. "One inch in three months!" One inch in three months! Thank You, thank You.
Back when the diagnosis was still a new wound, I felt the Lord speaking to me the story of the little boy with five loaves of bread and two fish. These he gave to Jesus, and what Jesus did with them was so astounding, it boggles the mind. If this boy had kept his lunch, he would have been fed. But in giving it away, not only did he still get fed, thousands and thousands of others were also fed. And they were fed to the full! There were leftovers.
The same week the Lord placed this story in my heart as something meaningful related to Sam, my pastor preached from this very passage. Isn't that just the way? His sermon point for this story was God is a God over shortage. Almost made me laugh. Yes, I thought, we are having some shortage issues, not only in height, but also the amount of money needed to pay for growth hormone. But God is a God over shortage, and look what He does when we give Him what we have.
So, every night when Sam gets his injection, we pray. We do what Jesus did. Jesus took the food that wasn't enough and thanked the Father for it, and the Father made it more than enough. So, while lights are going down, and teeth are being brushed, we take this milliliter of liquid laboratory and we give thanks, for this is all we have. This is what we have, Lord, and we put it in Your hands. Do that thing You do. Multiply. Grow this child. For his good, for Your glory.
When Sara asked if we would continue the injections, I said, "Yes! It's working!" But Sam was quick to correct me. "Mom, it's God who's working." Yes, indeed.