It was a Friday night in March. Embraced by the warmth of my blankets, I lazily scrolled through my newsfeeds, my eyelids growing heavy. I was about to call it a night when a text came through. It was Kim Botto, my dear friend from church who had officiated Nora’s funeral and has helped us through our loss. A family from church had just been dealt the devastating blow of a prenatal trisomy 18 diagnosis. She wrote, “You would be the perfect one to reach out to them.”
I recalled our own first horrible days after Nora’s diagnosis. Although I did not recognize their names or yet know them, my heart broke for this family. I assured Kim I would reach out to Natalie the next day.
As I laid there on into the night I wished I could fast forward time for them to get them through these awful, anxiety-ridden days. Then I recalled the story of a butterfly cocoon from Streams in the Desert from January 9’s page (Jan. 9 was the date we received Nora’s diagnosis!!! Coincidence?!):
“I once kept a bottle-shaped cocoon of an emperor moth for nearly one year. The cocoon was very strange in its construction. The neck of the “bottle” had a narrow opening through which the mature insect forces its way. Therefore the abandoned cocoon is as perfect as one still inhabited, with no tearing of the interwoven fibers having taken place. The great disparity between the size of the opening and the size of the imprisoned insect makes a person wonder how the moth ever exits at all. Of course, it is never accomplished without great labor and difficulty. It is believed the pressure to which the moth’s body is subjected when passing through such a narrow opening is nature’s way of forcing fluids into the wings, since they are less developed at the time of emerging from the cocoon than in other insects.
I happened to witness the first efforts of my imprisoned moth to escape from its long confinement. All morning I watched it patiently striving and struggling to be free. It never seemed able to get beyond a certain point, and at last my patience was exhausted. The confining fibers were probably drier and less elastic than if the cocoon had been left all winter in its native habitat, as nature meant it to be. In any case, I thought I was wiser and more compassionate than its Maker, so I resolved to give it a helping hand. With the point of my scissors, I snipped the confining threads to make the exit just a little easier. Immediately and with perfect ease, my moth crawled out, dragging a huge swollen body and little shriveled wings! I watched in vain to see the marvelous process of expansion in which these wings would silently and swiftly develop before my eyes. As I examined the delicately beautiful spots and markings of various colors that were all there in miniature, I longed to see them assume their ultimate size. I looked for my moth, one of the loveliest of its kind, to appear in all its perfect beauty. But I looked in vain. My misplaced tenderness had proved to be its ruin. The moth suffered an aborted life, crawling painfully through its brief existence instead of flying through the air on rainbow wings.
I have thought of my moth often, especially when watching with tearful eyes those who were struggling with sorrow, suffering, and distress. My tendency would be to quickly alleviate the discipline and bring deliverance. O shortsighted person that I am! How do I know that one of these pains or groans should be relieved? The farsighted, perfect love that seeks the perfection of its object does not weakly shrink away from present, momentary suffering. Our Father’s love is too steadfast to be weak. Because He loves His children, He ‘disciplines us . . . that we may share in his holiness’ (Heb 12:10). With this glorious purpose in sight, He does not relieve our crying. Made perfect through suffering, as our Elder Brother was, we children of God are disciplined to make us obedient, and brought to glory through much tribulation.”
I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.(Romans 8:18)
Natalie and I have since met together for coffee a couple of times, shared pieces of our lives, our prayers of hope, and our tears of sorrow with one another. Tucked away in the dark warmth and safety of her mother’s womb is a precious baby girl. She is equipped with an extra 18th chromosome that she will use to bring glory to her Almighty Creator.
While I can’t physically or otherwise fast forward time for Natalie and her family, it is my honor to be able to cheer them on as they emerge THROUGH this present suffering of their lives and in to greatness!
A beautifully written account of Natalie & Will’s journey has been kept on their Caring Bridge page. I encourage you not only to visit it, but please pray for them and their treasured baby girl. Her name is Runner. The meaning behind her name is so perfect and so befitting, as her Mama beautifully illustrates in a touching letter to her unborn baby.
This past Saturday our church embarked on #GoCincinnati — a church-wide endeavor to go out and bless the city and surrounding communities. Our family was assigned to help with landscaping at Imago Nature Preserve. While William helped erect a split rail fence, the kids and I helped clear out some planting areas and some trails.
While all of this was going on I was absolutely smitten with an adorable little boy who was working very hard with his Dad. He made several determined trips to the compost pile with his little red wheel barrow full of weeds. It was impossible not to smile every time I looked over at them and I even snuck a couple of pictures. I’m not really in the habit of taking pictures of “complete strangers” kids, but I just kinda couldn’t help myself!
We were encouraged to share our Go Cincinnati pictures on social media using the hashtag #GoCincinnati – so I posted a few on Instagram (@AleisaAK) including the one of the cute little boy with his wheel barrow.
I got a phone call from Natalie that evening. She had noticed on Instagram that we might have been at the same site that her husband and son had been working.
“No way!” I exclaimed.
There were several little kids on the site. I asked her what her son looked like. It was all adding up – and then I asked if her son had a little red wheel barrow with him…
“Yes! That was him!!”
Laughing, in utter disbelief, I asked if she had seen the picture I took of her ADORABLE little boy – which I had also posted on Instagram. She explained that she hadn’t scrolled all the way through the pictures yet and couldn’t wait to see!!
I had seen pictures of her family before, but I honestly did not at all make the connection!!! Because seriously — what are the odds?!?! This was so crazy!!!
Who, what, when, where, why and how would it even be possible for Natalie’s husband and son to be assigned to the same project we were??? Based on the sheer amount of people involved – there was absolutely no way to match people and families up with common interests, common prenatal diagnoses, or otherwise. (Yes, I checked!) Yet there we were were — working side by side to serve others, to serve God, and had no idea until after the fact!
Then I was “angry” 😉 that this perfectly orchestrated opportunity for our families to connect had come and gone and we were all but oblivious! But now we have this serving experience in common now too. God definitely has His loving and watchful eye on each of our families — on ALL OF US.
That God would trouble Himself with these seemingly “little things” in our lives, imagine how much He must care about the BIG things!
Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten by God. Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.
(Luke 12:6-7 NIV)
Please don’t forget to check out Natalie & Will’s Caring Bridge site. Your prayers are much appreciated!