Having babies born 16 weeks early has changed my relationship with God.
That seems like a given, doesn't it? A "duh" statement, because something this big, something as life-changing and earth-shattering can't be without spiritual ramifications, can it? What has surprised me though, is how deep and complex my feelings towards Him have been.
I am angry. I rage and lash out and question His plans, because how could he do this to my babies?
I am heartbroken. I watch my tiny babies fight just to stay alive and I beg and plead with Him to save them, heal them, make them better.
I am weary, tired in every sense of the word. I cling to His promises like life perservers and there are days when I just have to say "this is as far as I can go today, Lord, I need you to drag me by the collar through the rest."
But I am also grateful. So very very grateful. There was a time, in those early days in the hospital, when it was questionable if I would even have babies to worry about. The fact that they are here at all is enough to bring me to my knees with thanks.
And I am hopeful. I believe, wholeheartedly, that He can save them, that he will save them. I believe in His miracles.
My grace is enough; it's all you need. 2 Corinthians 12:9