When All Things Are Made Perfect...

Growing up, the one Sunday my Protestant parents made sure we went to church was Easter Sunday. Each of them had been raised in different faiths; my mother was Presbyterian/Baptist and my father was Pentecostal. Though my father had received his education at the International Bible School in San Antonio, TX., and had even considered becoming a full-on Preacher, he did not pursue that professionally. My mother's family was not what you could call "religious", and we'll leave it at that.

But as a child, the Sunday School bus would come around on Easter morning and my folks made sure we were on it. I liked Easter...the new dress, gloves and white patent leather shoes made me feel like a shiny new penny. And of course, the "Easter bunny" baskets and eggs added the magic I was looking for as a kid.

When I heard about Jesus on the cross, as a child and how He rose again on the 3rd day, that seemed to add to the "magic" of the rest of Easter Sunday. It wasn't the focus, but it was a good thing.

Then, I grew up. I chose my own faith when I was 16 years old. And I learned the Easter is not about bunnies and eggs. It's about a Gift with a Promise.

When I was 23 years old, I gave birth to Dean. He wasn't breathing when he was born--the pitocin affected him adversely and caused his breathing to stop. Medically, he was termed "stillborn but revived". That lack of oxygen caused brain damage to my little one. The day I found out, I was alone at Phoenix Children's hospital with Dr. Raun Melmud. I'd gone by myself with Dean to find out why he wasn't rolling over or pulling up like other almost 6 month olds. I'd been to a regular Pediatrician months earlier who said, based on his birth, he might be a little delayed but I shouldn't worry about it. But he didn't get stronger, so I made the appointment with Dr. Melmud, a specialist.

We were in Dr. Melmud's office a few minutes, as he kindly went thru some physical tests with Dean, and then sat me down in his office and told me my son has Cerebral Palsy. I sat stunned, I guess. I don't remember what else was said, because all I could hear was the sound of my heart breaking. I held my baby in arms and melted into his soft blue eyes. Out of the office, I sat in the car in the hospital parking lot, and sobbed my eyes out while looking at my beautiful son and wondering, "why?".

The next 2 weeks, I just closed the curtains in the apartment and cried most of the day while I still took care of my 3 children. I just kept asking outloud to the heavens why this happened to me and my baby. Was it something I had done? I begged for this to go away. I would do anything to make this not be true. "Please, I'm so sorry for whatever I've done, I will do better".

The heavens were silent. And because little kids needed me, I wept when they took naps or after bedtime. I was sad for Dean and myself. How was I going to do this?

Then I just snapped out of it and got busy doing what needed to be done.

The years passed and we just kept going. Daily therapy for 3 years...speech, OT, PT, neurology and genetics appointments. I got to know the hospital staff, and all the wonderful therapists who blessed my son's life. Victories came in small ways. You had to pay attention to see them.

We had been told that Dean wouldn't walk. And through a true miracle and blessing, he began walking at 4 1/2 years old. He didn't know what he couldn't or shouldn't be doing, so he tried whatever he felt like doing. He is pretty much fearless.

When he was about 14 years old, we were camping up at Rocky Mountain National Park one summer. Mr W. the kids and I were all sitting on logs that overlooked a meadow.

It was sunset and the elk gathered in the sun's final beams as we quietly watched them. Pretty soon, the first star shone. I said to the kids, "LOOK! The first star tonight! Let's make a wish!"

Then, starting at the end of the log, I asked each of the girls what they wished for--Diana wished for everyone to be happy. Dara wished for something magical like a Unicorn. And then I got to Dean. He said, "I wish it time Jesus here." I said, "You mean, the Resurrection?" He nodded, "Because then, my [tapping head] be good."

As I have to come find out for myself, that is the Gift and the Promise of the Resurrection. The Gift is Redemption from all of our sorrows, trials, heartaches, sins and physical imperfections...the Promise is Eternal and Everlasting Joy.

It's personal for me and my family. We look forward to the day when Dean will stand before us Absolutely Perfect. How great shall be my joy.

It's Good Friday.