We found out about Evan’s heart defect in mid-December of last year.
It was obviously a scary and stressful time, and I remember looking at a neighbor/friend’s Facebook post when she took her girls to some events at her church. I felt a pull to go.
I was raised part of a religious family, but never really found a church that I felt a “part” of. I didn’t think much of it, until I repeatedly felt this pull and talked to my friend about trying it out.
My first time there was a week before Christmas, and I think I made it through a song before I started to cry.
I’ve been back every week (at least every week I’ve been home) since.
It was last year’s Christmas Eve service, only my second or third time attending the church, that really solidified my feeling that this was the place for me. Evan kicked and twirled in my belly, and I cried while I held Emerie and the whole church sang “Silent Night” together. It was here that I truly heard for the first time the phrase that carried me through some of the toughest times of the year ahead, the theme of the service: “Nothing is impossible with God” (Luke 1:37).
I can’t tell you how many times I have repeated this phrase in my head over the course of the past year. In the times when I truly felt like I could not go on, I reminded myself that nothing is impossible with God.
As Evan’s due date approached and I started to feel scared of the unknown that was to come, I told myself this very phrase, and decided to think of what I wished for. For whatever reason, maybe it was just realism that things would not be sunshine and rainbows for quite awhile after he was born, I kept coming back to the dream of having all four of us together and healthy for Christmas.
Well, this Christmas Eve, I headed to my church for service with Danny, Emerie, AND Evan. We listened to music, we sang “Silent Night” together, and, wouldn’t you know it, the pastor asserted that “Nothing is impossible with God.”
Call me cheesy, but, you guys, this was the most powerful statement from God. He might as well have sat next to me and said, “See? I told you so.”
It doesn’t mean our trials are over. It didn’t even mean that the church service didn’t hold the stress that inevitably comes when you try to get a 3-year-old to sit quietly for an hour without a device.
What it did mean is that I need to keep on having faith. And I will. Because I know better than anyone that, you guessed it, nothing is impossible with God.