God can make a way

It's hard to know what to write about Baby Greg sometimes. Hard to know how to sort though the good and the bad and the just-plain-confusing and distill this whole situation into just a few words. When the truth is that I spend most of my moments thinking thousands of words about all this, and I could write forever, trying to explain my feelings and experiences and emotions. And still I don't think I'd be able to properly convey to you how it felt to walk onto the ward this morning for ward church and see Baby Greg. And have his nurse tell me that yesterday he was able to drink from a bottle. (Not much, and he still choked a bit, but he did it on his own.) And this morning he was able to come off his breathing support for over an hour. (Granted, he still sounded a little like a sick duck, but he was doing it without the mask completely covering his little face.) And he's able to be awake and looking around and not crying. (Not for more than a few minutes, but it's the first time in weeks he's had that kind of peace.)

To sit here and actually be able to honestly type Baby Greg is doing better seems like some sort of weird dream. I know he's on a long road, one on which he's only taken a couple of very small steps, but right now he's going forwards instead of backwards. I say I have faith, and I say I believe that God can work miracles. Why is it that I'm so shocked when He shows up and does what I ask?

I was talking with Marion and a couple of the translators yesterday while I visited a sleeping Baby Greg. Marion was asking me some questions about Greg's condition and I was answering as honestly as I knew how. Hope is sometimes a dangerous thing; believing that her baby can get better is important, but not being prepared for the opposite outcome would be absolutely devastating. At some point, my words failed me; there was nothing more to say, so I repeated the mantra we've practically been chanting over the last days. God can make a way.

Cynthia, one of the translators who was sitting with us around Greg's bed, put her hand on my back as I sat there on the floor. No, Sis Alice. He has already made a way.

And it's true. Because miracles aren't always Lazarus emerging from a tomb or thousands of fish jumping into a boat. Miracles can be smaller than that. They can be a baby drinking a thimbleful of milk or a mother laughing for the first time in days. God has already made a way for Baby Greg. And all I can do is let my heart sing the praises He's been waiting to hear as I keep praying and waiting for Him to continue making His way.