I have been trying to get the fact of our coming trip to Seattle' Childrens Hospital out of my mind. I know sooner or later Tito will have surgery on his brain. I don't want to think about it. I have been praying about it. At night, my pray keeps me up. In moments of silence, prayer bubbles up. When I see the smile of my son, prayer moves like a storm system.
Yesterday, I received a call from a friend whose husband is in the hospital. We talk. We sense each others' fear. We played the stoic game. Then we prayed. I know Jesus is real, because prayer is real, because the grace of God is real. I don't know what will happen with Baby Tito, but I know God is in the middle of his life.
Thank you for my son, for my wife,
for all the gifts small and large.
I ask for wisdom with the doctors,
and healing for my son. I ask in the name
of Jesus, who came and lived with us, calling
us toward peace, and who we strung up a tree,
only to have Jesus resurrect to new life and power.
I pray that this new life and power
be with my son, myself
my wife, my church, the world,
and all who have the breath of live.