So I did not do a timely update regarding this, but on Thanksgiving Day, my hometown of Jacksonville, FL featured Adam and our little family on the cover of the “Florida Times Union”.

You can read an online portion here

To say we were beyond honored and doubly humbled, would even still be an understatement.

It happened last year too.
A story in the newspaper.
Thanksgiving Day.
Then, I think, Easter Sunday as well.
Seems impossible.

That a child once seen as a curse.
An impossibility.
Is actually a precious life.
With value and love and purpose.
And the song his life is singing, though now absent of an audible voice, is a salve to many aching wounds.
And at the moment, and really in all moments we have breath, there are aching wounds needing salve.
Acutely, in seems, in this present darkness.

The reporter, Mary Kelli Palka, of this article ended with this story.
We shared it with you a few months ago.
How one of Raja’s patients was struggling with depression and meaninglessness
Due to his paralysis.
Once a successful engineering student, a seeming hope for his family…
Fell off a ladder, and now lies immobile.
And we shared how Raja was running short of words for this young boy.
And we shared how Raja questioned what he could offer to salve such a wound, such an ache.
So he visited the boy one night, Adam at his side.
Adam who rarely goes to other people.
Freely sat on the stretcher next to the boys head.
Watched him.
Then let his body lean down (most likely squishing the poor boy’s face with his hands to keep balance)
And as he leaned in,
His mouth met the boys cheek.

For his hands could not protest.
His legs could not flee.
He just lied there, with fingerless hands squeezing his face.
And he just lied there.
Mother at his side, weeping.

And isn’t that how we are?
Or how we are supposed to be?
With our Father above?
The Almighty one.
Who was slain, so that we could be free?
All we can do is receive His love.
But we, with hands and feet mobile, often times rebel against it.
We protest.
Or we try to prove that we deserve it and we try to work for it.
We try to offer our own blood.
When His hands, bleeding, cup our face, broken.
And when His lips meet our face, we turn away.
Refusing to accept this God of Love and Justice.
Refusing to freely receive what the world says is impossible.

But that is it.
That is where Love meets us.

I think of when the girl, now like family, with a veiled face
That veil covering scars, horrendous
Stepped into our home.
And though no words of man and no medicine of doctors could comfort
The face of my son, broke her coldness down.
Tears streaming.
Understanding revealed.
“If there is purpose for Adam, then there is purpose for my life” she said

And I think of all the times I have questioned why my oldest was born so.
Why, in utero, his body was left so.
Why, marriages, consanguinous, still happen and leave babies the victims.
So many whys.

Then I think of all the broken lives crowding these packed streets.
Especially of girls, especially these three.
And I try to find ways to help them.
And I long to see His Kingdom come around them.
And I long to see an end to their suffering.
But too often I fear the worst.
Trafficking.
Child marriage.
Abuse.
Living Unloved.
Beaten.
Homeless.
And too often, the numbers overwhelm.
And I feel paralyzed.

But then He kisses me.

With His kiss, holy, heavenly.
He kisses me when he brings her into my life.
He gives me a glimpse of His restoration.
On this earth.
He shows me a redemption story.
Of a girl, who though has lived a life of unimaginable pain.
Suffering injustices that would make your blood boil.
He shows me how He is making all things new.
How He is bringing His Kingdom to flood her life with Redemption.
A flood of blood.
Holy Blood.
That is making a life though once red as scarlet, as white as snow.

And another kiss, holy is given
He is doing that THRU THE PHYSICAL SCARS OF MY SON.
Scars and unformed parts that anger me and confuse me and fill my head with doubts.
He shames my said wisdom.
And takes what I see as foolishness, and brings His Name glory.
Oh so much glory.
He takes a scar that I only see pain in.
And He uses it to salve that girl’s aching wound.
Fellowship in suffering.

And now her story, it is told time after time.
In that room number 12.
In the hospital.
Where patients line the chairs waiting to talk to the Psychiatrist.
But that doctor, he knows.
That his therapies and his medications can only do so much.
For the Author of Life is the only true Healer.
So prayer is a must.
Testimony is a must.
So, after each appointment.
Patients walk next door.
And are met by the face of that once, veiled, girl.
And they see her charred lips share Living Hope.
And they hear how a life of injustices can be woven together for an eternal good.
And they feel charred hands on heavy shoulders.
And they hear that raspy, yet soothing voice, intercede on their behalf.
And there is fellowship.
In the suffering.
And the countless girls that flood my mind and heart.
Their stories are met in this one girl’s story.
Because she received His kiss.

And her story is met at the foot of that wooden Cross, so many years before.
And there is fellowship.
In their suffering.
Thru His suffering.
Thru His kiss.

And then that patient, with cancer of the face.
Who comes to Raja, ready to give up and die.
Suffering pain unimaginable and covering his face in shame.
Frustrated and angry.
And I understand.
He does not understand how to walk on.
Then he sees our family photo.
He sees Adam’s face.
And he sees the love surrounding him.
And he can march on.
Because Love Divine and It’s amazing power.
Penetrates the heart.
And there is fellowship.
In their suffering.

And He has used my son to teach me depths of suffering that I had distanced myself from.
Questions answered, that for so long had lingered in my aching mind.
And, dare I say, that Love Divine authored Adam’s unformed body’s birth.
Permitted it to come.
Into this world.
So that others suffering, could be comforted.

And I hear about this Sandy Hook tragedy.
And I tremble.
And my knees quake.
To even imagine the pain of those families left behind.
And the aching of the hearts.
And I think I know pain?
And I point my finger and feel as though I will faint thinking of them.
When I read their names and picture their mothers, weeping, and fathers, calling out.

And that still small voice.
That One from above.
Reminds me of the purposes I have seen unfolded this past year.
Purposes in pain that I thought unjust.
And He reminds me of that One Death, authored before the foundation of our world.

It was Tim Keller who said it

“But it is on the Cross that we see the ultimate wonder. On the cross we sufferers finally see, to our shock that God now knows too what it is to lose a loved one in an unjust attack. And so you see what this means? John Stott puts it this way. John Stott wrote: “I could never myself believe in God if it were not for the Cross. In the real world of pain, how could one worship a God who was immune to it?” Do you see what this means? Yes, we don’t know the reason God allows evil and suffering to continue, but we know what the reason isn’t, what it can’t be. It can’t be that he doesn’t love us! It can’t be that he doesn’t care. God so loved us and hates suffering that he was willing to come down and get involved in it. And therefore the Cross is an incredibly empowering hint. Ok, it’s only a hint, but if you grasp it, it can transform you. It can give you strength.”

So today, He is leaning down to kiss you.
To love you.
Will you receive it?
Please do, dear one.
His healing is real and it is here.
More than just a babe in a feeding trough.
More than just a holiday celebration of greens and reds.
This is the Savior.
Ready to meet you and me, paralyzed, in the mess of a stable.
And ready to give Himself for us.
Receive our Savior today.
For the same babe is the same Man on that Cross, divine.
Let Him love you.