This morning I listened to the song “He’s My Son” by Mark Shultz. The moment the first few chords
strummed their way into my heart, the sobs welled up deep within the wound of
remembrance. The first time I ever heard
the song was after my son, Brandon’s, appendix burst and his bowel perforated.
I watched him suffer for months, and the helplessness I experienced kept me awake at
night pacing the floor in prayers of petition. At times, I did not understand why God was not answering my prayers. One morning on the way to work, I cried out to
God, “Let me take his pain.” Immediately after I made my request, “He’s
My Son” came on the radio. I pulled over to the side of the road. My mother’s
heart could no longer contain the sorrow. I put
my head on the steering wheel and wept because I knew God understood my
anguish. A mother’s heart is so deeply rooted in wanting to protect her
children from harm. When things happen beyond our control, it is a bone-crushing devastating nightmare. The
feeling of helplessness overwhelms us.
Our soul cries out to God, but at the same time, we are crushed in spirit.
I lived through my own ordeal with
cancer, but when it came to almost losing my son, I wanted to give up. I could not go on living without him. By God’s grace, I kept fighting.
I could not let my anguish be wasted
pain. I had to be a warrior mom for him,
so I got on my knees before God over and over again, storming the gates of
heaven, and asking for healing, but most of all for His will to be done. It took nearly a year, but the healing
process finally started. Six months later, Brandon contracted viral meningitis.
How could I not scream out, “God, why? Don’t you see? He’s not just anyone. He’s my
son.” After months of speech therapy, vocational therapy, and physical therapy,
Brandon slowly made progress. To this day, my heart still cries out to God for
him when I see him struggle. The debilitating disease that caused his appendix
to burst and bowel to perforate still fights against his physical body, which
is why the song still hits home even today.
Brandon isn’t the only son who has struggled with
life’s challenges. My son, Geoffrey, has
faced his own battles. At his birth, I
took on the role of protector because I thought I was the only one who could do
it. In his late teens, I watched him fight a drug addiction that could have
taken his life if God had not intervened. I am the one who watched him fade
into nothingness from the drug’s power. I am the one who sat with him in those
first few days as he fought through withdrawal without help from a rehab
clinic. I was the one who protected him for eighteen years from knowing his
mother’s fears, his familial roots, his biological father. However, I know that Jesus sat with me during
those times. I was not alone nor was he. I
saw the near destruction of my relationship with him, only to see God make it
stronger. Do I still try to protect him? Yes. It is instinctual. Most mothers want to protect their children. When I
see the strong man he has become today, I know God’s hand will guide him, even
when I am not around to try my version of protection.
When I
think of both of my son’s perilous journeys, I think of the song “He’s My Son” because I can imagine God, the
Father, saying the very same thing when he sent his son to the cross to die for
our sins. I can imagine Him watching the beatings, the nails driven into his hands and feet, and the final
breath he took. I can imagine his grief when His son asked Him to take the cup
of suffering from him, but how He rejoiced in his son’s willingness to
complete His purpose. God knows my mother’s heart because it is His heart too.
Jesus was not just anyone. He was God’s only son. I know many parents who have
lost children. It is the hardest journey a mother, or father for that matter,
can take. However, knowing God
experienced your sorrow makes it just a
little easier to bear. I will never say it takes away all of the pain, but I
know even in the midst of a grief-stricken heart,
a peace that passes all understanding is
there for the asking. God’s peace is what keeps my heart and mind at rest. So
when I continue to worry about my boys, I will remember the one hard truth. God
knows my mother’s heart. He knows! I will rest on
the lap of God and simply listen to his heartbeat. I have said it before when we allow our hearts to beat in sync
with His, we are at peace in all
circumstances.
