in her shoes

 

Her hair was still damp from the shower she rushed through earlier in the day. I caught the faint scent of shampoo as I hugged her tight. The nutrition staff brings a tray in because she's a breastfeeding mama. She gives the tray a once over and decides she's just not that hungry. No surprise. Most mamas aren't very hungry when they wear her shoes. 

Today is a Tuesday. Oh, these precious Tuesdays. Her baby is exactly two weeks younger than Luke; she was also born on a Tuesday. 

The ride there had been a long one, longer for her than for me; I know because I'd been in her shoes not too very long ago. The heavy shoes of a mama desperately wanting answers and traveling to the one place we were told we may get them.

I took her a basket of things four days into their stay. The day after her baby's brain surgery. None of the stuff really mattered, but that's what southern women do, isn't it? We give folks stuff. Food, mostly. There's a purpose for the stuff though, it gives us a reason to make ourselves present. I always felt better when people showed up and even better than that when they brought Jesus. 

We couldn't take the basket to the baby's room because you can't take food into the PICU. There are some strict rules to follow back there. I left it in the waiting room with my moral support and braved the same hallway I traveled the night I walked to the room where nurses worked desperately to save the little life of My Sweet Luke.

My shoes were impossibly heavy that night. 

She's wearing the heavy shoes now. 

This isn't easy for me by any stretch of the word. But the Holy Spirit nudged me on, reminding me that what she's going through at this moment is much, much more difficult. 

The real point of my visit was to hug her and to remind her that others have worn the shoes she's been wearing. Others are wearing them right now; just take a quick little walk down the hallway to see. The basket of stuff I bring is just stuff; the Love, the Hope is the real purpose.

I couldn't bear to let her walk this path under her own strength. I had to let her know that others have taken those impossible steps. And, above all, that the only way this mama gets through it is with Jesus. I know she knows, but the presence of others helped me. So I go to help her. 

When I saw her eyes and heard her voice, I knew immediately that she isn't carrying it alone. She's got the strength of God in her, just like her beautiful baby girl. And a husband beside her who, I could tell immediately, has enough love for his two ladies to send them to the moon and back. If only a daddy's love could shrink a brain tumor...

What a beautiful family...

Then I start talking. I feel like I need to say something but oftentimes words are useless,  so I call on the only words that actually brought real comfort when my deepest pain was new. 

First I tell her what one of my role models in high school said on Facebook when I wrote about Luke's last day, "God handpicks the people who will make the biggest impact on His Kingdom." 

God, I hope that's true. I meant to think that, but it comes out of my mouth before I can catch it. 

Her eyes tear up, and I hope it's not more heartbreak. That's the opposite of my goal here. 

Then I tell her what Luke 2:19 and and 2:51 say about Mary's heart. "She treasured up all these things..." I tell her the same thing a wonderful woman that used to teach with me wrote in a letter about those verses. Mary was a real woman, a real mother, and God did not take that lightly. He let those verses into His Word twice to let us know that He cares deeply for a Mother's Heart. He has a higher purpose for all of this, and He would never let any of this heartache touch a mother's heart unless it was for His higher purpose. He allows it. And when he allows this type of heartache, you have a choice. He's either good or He's not. You trust Him or you don't. 

I can already see what her choice is. 

This mama is strong. Those heavy shoes are no match for her God; you can tell by looking at her that Jesus is carrying her.

And that sweet baby? She looks just like her mama. 

I'll bet she's just as strong, too.