curveball

Yesterday, the path we are on took a turn that we did not foresee. I am still trying to catch my breath.

Noah's test results came back from the doctor. He has been diagnosed with cytomegalovirus (CMV), probably contracted in utero.

Best case scenario - he presents no symptoms. Right now, we are here. But in the worst case scenario, he may eventually suffer hearing loss, visual loss or developmental disabilities.

His pediatrician has ordered up a bunch of tests for his hearing and vision, and a brain scan to make sure there are no cysts. We managed to get him scheduled for a CT scan today, and praise God, there are no abnormalities.

I still feel like I am standing on shaky ground. Even if he does not present any symptoms now, there is always a chance that the hearing or visual loss, or developmental disabilities could come later.

I am trying to be open to what God is saying to me or asking of me. Here's what I have so far. I am to love Noah, fearlessly and furiously. We are to fight for him: he has no one else who will. I am to hold on to God, to touch the cloak of Jesus each day, each moment when I feel the ground beneath my feet shaking.

I always have the iPod plugged in whenever I'm driving. Sometimes, I've noticed, a song will catch my attention, make me stop and strain to hear all the lyrics, even if it is a song I've heard before. That's when I start to press the buttons on the dial furiously, because I need to figure out the name of the song. A few days ago, before we received Noah's test results back, it was this:

Safe and Sound - MercyMe

No more boarding up my windows
So that I can lay low
Nobody's home
No more trying to run away from
Tired of being afraid of
What I can't control
The hardest part I'm always told
Is letting go

Safe and sound
Knowing that You're big enough to
Wrap around my heart completely
Safe and sound
Just knowing that You know me

I can finally set my heart free
Lost within the mystery
Of this Love I've found
There is nothing that can pull me
From the hand that holds me
I'm safe and sound

The hardest part I'm always told
Is letting go

The greatest part I now know
Is letting go

At the time, it was just a song with a beautiful melody. In the wake of yesterday, it is so so much more. It is God's reminder that we are safe and sound; that Noah is safe and sound, no matter what lies ahead. Because He is big enough to wrap around our hearts completely.

This has been the hardest post for me to write so far. We would love it if you would keep us in prayer, specifically that God may keep Noah's vision, hearing and brain untouched by the virus.