The Glory of My Ella

So yesterday, I wrote about waiting for a doctor's phone call that would change my family's life. Not thirty minutes after posting that blog, we got the call. Naturally, I had to walk out the door to go meet Ella's bus, but the doctor was kind enough to wait until I could return before he shared the results. I got Ella set up with a snack, some TV, and then I quickly joined Rachel in our room to hear the news.

Ever have one of those moments where, no matter what was about to happen, you knew that you would be relieved one way or the other?

I was prepared for the worst: IV treatments, regular hospital visits, massive insurance claims and bills for the remainder. I was ready to commit everything we had to helping our daughter achieve a better life.

And about that time is when the doctor said, "Well, with one weird exception, her blood levels are normal across the board. In fact, they look good."

I looked at Rachel. She looked at me.

"So," the doctor continued, "I'm going to get with Ella's pediatrician and talk about what our next steps should be..."

I checked out there. My body felt numb, as if somehow become one gigantic funny bone. Her blood levels are normal.

Normal. Ever thought about how precious that word really is?

Naturally there will be more follow up. There will be more blood work, more needles, more tortuous waiting. Ella will still catch some random cold virus that will make it difficult for her to breath. We know these things. And now, we know that they happen for a reason other than her immune system being insufficient.

I can't tell you what a relief that is.

There's still an outside chance that her body doesn't produce a specific antibody, and so she may need treatment for that, but even that possibility couldn't dampen the fact that for once in my daughter's life the doctor had come back with good news.

*****

Last night, we met with a group of five couples who have been coming to our house for the past month and participating in a Bible study. We shared our good news, and everyone was genuinely pleased for us and for Ella. We talked a bit more about what the future holds, and how we weren't sure what it all meant, and everyone agreed to pray for us. Then, we started the video for the study.

And there, about five minutes into the video, Rachel and I were stunned to hear these words from the Gospel of John: "No, this sickness will not end in death. No, it is for God's glory so that God's Son may be glorified through it." (John 11:4)

I was sitting on the floor in front of Rachel and couldn't see her. But I felt it when she punched me in the arm. I could also feel the eyes of every other couple, turned towards us in near disbelief.

I know some people scoff at the idea of God, or, if they believe in God they're not quite willing to believe that He speaks to us individually. That's fine. But I can tell you plainly that last night, in the middle of 10 other people, my wife and I heard from God: Ella's life is bringing me glory. What you are going through is not in vain.

And perhaps most precious of all: This will not end in death.

Now, obviously Ella will die. She's human after all. But what comforted me is the idea that her life, whenever it ends, will have resonance in the world she leaves behind. Her battles, her toughness, her indomitable spirit, her laughter, her imagination, these things will live on and in doing so she will bring God glory. For a parent who's greatest terror in life is to loose another child, I can't tell you how much peace flooded my soul when I heard those words.

I don't know if I've much better moments than that.

The glory of my Ella is that she's alive and fighting, and showing other people that we may wrestle with the darkness but we don't have to succumb to it. And the glory of my God is that He's with her all the way.