23 June 2010

Breck's Thoughts: Significant Ceremony

I almost lost it during his baptism on Sunday.  Brian and I were sandwhiched between the Priest on one side and Bennett's Godparents on the other.  Surrounding us was the church community, friends we knew and friends we did not.  Bennett, dressed his cream-colored delicate handmade baptism gown, was snuggled in my arms.  Oliver sat with a friend nearby.

My eyes welled up with tears and my bottom lip started to quiver.  I could hear the sound of the Priest blessing the water.  I saw the faces of the congregation peering on.  And I wanted to cry. boo-hoo, actually...

...the kind of boo-hoo that involves your shoulders and causes your makeup to run black strips down your face.

For a moment, I just almost couldn't handle it.

The moment had been planned since before Bennett was born and here it was...more than a year after we found out about his surprise conception, eight months after his unexpected early entrance into the world and our being told that his "situation" might not be "compatible with life", seven and a half months after we had to accept that, all things being the equal, we might one day bury our own son.

The Priest's chanting became a murmur.  The congregation became a blur.  A still quiet voice reminded me, "this wasn't supposed to be."  And that's when I wanted to drop to my knees and just cry into my hands.  "This wasn't supposed to be."

For a moment, I was given the glimpse into the past...and into the future.  We almost didn't get to experience this - this celebration of our son and the acknowledgment that God has enveloped him in His love.  And I am well aware that these experiences may be limited.

A baptism is always special but this one was especially not taken for granted.

God has given me so much.  And the awareness of God's gifts are sometimes too much to handle.

The reality is, in some small way, I am thankful for Cystic Fibrosis.  CF is a reminder that nothing I have is because I deserve it - but because it's been given:  special moments, my time with my husband/children, my health, my home, my friends, my son's very life.

If we are given 5 years with Bennett or 55 years - every moment is a gift.  If Bennett's life is shorten or if he is given extended time, every moment is a gift.

Despite my disappointment over Bennett's diagnosis and the pain I can sometimes feel over having my life turned upside down by his lifetime of special needs, I cannot be angry with God for the gift he has given me - for ever how long he choses.  This very moment was a gift.

For the sake of the people in attendance and the fact I was determined to have make up on in any of the pictures I took after the service, I didn't go there.

I swallowed the tears back and eventually became distracted by the ceremony activity again.

Bennett's baptism is a story about how God reaches out to us, before we are even aware He exists, and saves us.  And this moment was a story about how God reached down to me, before I was even aware of the gift Bennett would be, and loved me.

He gave me the gift I call my son.

1 comment :

  1. Wow friend! Your thoughts and words are a great reminder of how everything from above is a gift - and of God's amazing grace over us - and all the blessings that I most definitely don't deserve. Your words and your testimony over these past several months have taught me so much. Thank you for sharing.


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