Evan got out of the hospital on March 28, and life has been different. Very, very different.
At first, he was so weak that he could not sit up by himself. He couldn't hold his head up. He was not strong enough to crawl or stand up. He was not eating very well, and he would not drink at all. We were back to pumping everything we could down his feeding tube. He also had trouble going to sleep. Most nights he would cry as we would put him down. For 8 days in the hospital, someone had been in the room with him while he slept, and he had no intentions of that ending so soon. Then he would cry during the day. Just scream and wail. And there seemed to be no reason for it. It got so maddening one day that I had to call for help. I was at my wit's end. I had no idea what to make him better.
Evan and I were largely confined to home during the first couple of weeks after his hospital stay. He couldn't sit up by himself, so I couldn't even put him in a shopping cart so I could grocery shop. Stewart would stop by the store on the way home and get what we needed. Many people brought us meals, and we were grateful. We did go to early worship the first Sunday after we got home, but we all knew Evan couldn't handle Sunday school. We did the same thing last Sunday.
Finally, a couple of days ago, we started seeing our boy again. He would crawl to his room and play. He would laugh at us. He was standing more. He was trying to drink some and eating everything he could get his hands on. One of our nurses told us it would take 3 days out of the hospital to get over 1 day in the hospital. I think that was pretty spot on. We are getting there, but it is a slow process!
Two words have resonated through my head even in the hardest of times: he's alive. Evan is alive. We did not lose him. This did not end badly. No, it ended in the best way possible. We still have him. He is here with us. Alive. Breathing. Evan. He's alive.
Two thousand years ago, a small band of brothers and some sisters witnessed a dark Friday where their Best Friend, Master, and Teacher was beaten, flogged, spat upon, ridiculed, and killed. The week before that Friday had been a roller coaster of emotions. At first, it was the highest of highs. The 24 hours that proceeded that Friday had been confusing, yet tender. Then that Friday was the lowest of all conceivable lows. It was the worst possible outcome. He had told them of the Kingdom of Heaven that was to come. They were expecting something totally different to happen. They were expecting an overthrow. Instead, they got a total victory - because:
"Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene went to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the entrance. So she came running to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one Jesus loved, and said, 'They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we don’t know where they have put him!'" (John 20:1-2)
Not in the tomb? Where could He be? Was the body stolen? Who would steal Him? Has this all been a bad dream? As Mary stood there and wept, she heard a familiar voice.
"Mary."
"Rabboni!"
There was Jesus. Alive. Breathing. Jesus. Here with her. She could touch Him, and she did. They did not lose Him. He was still with them. It did not end badly. No, it ended the best way possible. Victoriously. Earthshaking. Sin and death were defeated. No more shame, guilt, or condemnation is upon us. We can have life abundantly and eternally.
One of Evan's Christmas presents was a book about Jesus. It contains only twelve words, but it tells the whole story of the gospel in those few, short, easy words. I have read it to Evan several times in the past week, and I never get over the shear simplicity and power of those twelve words:
Baby
Temple
Baptized
Miracles
Teacher
Healer
Loving
King
Servant
Cross
Tomb
Jesus!
So simple, yet so profound. He is all of those things, but most of all -
JESUS IS ALIVE!
At first, he was so weak that he could not sit up by himself. He couldn't hold his head up. He was not strong enough to crawl or stand up. He was not eating very well, and he would not drink at all. We were back to pumping everything we could down his feeding tube. He also had trouble going to sleep. Most nights he would cry as we would put him down. For 8 days in the hospital, someone had been in the room with him while he slept, and he had no intentions of that ending so soon. Then he would cry during the day. Just scream and wail. And there seemed to be no reason for it. It got so maddening one day that I had to call for help. I was at my wit's end. I had no idea what to make him better.
Evan and I were largely confined to home during the first couple of weeks after his hospital stay. He couldn't sit up by himself, so I couldn't even put him in a shopping cart so I could grocery shop. Stewart would stop by the store on the way home and get what we needed. Many people brought us meals, and we were grateful. We did go to early worship the first Sunday after we got home, but we all knew Evan couldn't handle Sunday school. We did the same thing last Sunday.
Finally, a couple of days ago, we started seeing our boy again. He would crawl to his room and play. He would laugh at us. He was standing more. He was trying to drink some and eating everything he could get his hands on. One of our nurses told us it would take 3 days out of the hospital to get over 1 day in the hospital. I think that was pretty spot on. We are getting there, but it is a slow process!
Two words have resonated through my head even in the hardest of times: he's alive. Evan is alive. We did not lose him. This did not end badly. No, it ended in the best way possible. We still have him. He is here with us. Alive. Breathing. Evan. He's alive.
Two thousand years ago, a small band of brothers and some sisters witnessed a dark Friday where their Best Friend, Master, and Teacher was beaten, flogged, spat upon, ridiculed, and killed. The week before that Friday had been a roller coaster of emotions. At first, it was the highest of highs. The 24 hours that proceeded that Friday had been confusing, yet tender. Then that Friday was the lowest of all conceivable lows. It was the worst possible outcome. He had told them of the Kingdom of Heaven that was to come. They were expecting something totally different to happen. They were expecting an overthrow. Instead, they got a total victory - because:
"Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene went to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the entrance. So she came running to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one Jesus loved, and said, 'They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we don’t know where they have put him!'" (John 20:1-2)
Not in the tomb? Where could He be? Was the body stolen? Who would steal Him? Has this all been a bad dream? As Mary stood there and wept, she heard a familiar voice.
"Mary."
"Rabboni!"
There was Jesus. Alive. Breathing. Jesus. Here with her. She could touch Him, and she did. They did not lose Him. He was still with them. It did not end badly. No, it ended the best way possible. Victoriously. Earthshaking. Sin and death were defeated. No more shame, guilt, or condemnation is upon us. We can have life abundantly and eternally.
One of Evan's Christmas presents was a book about Jesus. It contains only twelve words, but it tells the whole story of the gospel in those few, short, easy words. I have read it to Evan several times in the past week, and I never get over the shear simplicity and power of those twelve words:
Baby
Temple
Baptized
Miracles
Teacher
Healer
Loving
King
Servant
Cross
Tomb
Jesus!
So simple, yet so profound. He is all of those things, but most of all -
JESUS IS ALIVE!
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