Written by Jenny Faultner.

At 39 weeks my daughter, Zoe, was born and underwent surgery to prepare her for the heart transplant she received 5 weeks later. In anticipation of this event, each prenatal doctor’s appointment and consultation cut deeper, removing our life’s expectations piece by piece, culminating in the conference room, hushed toned obituary that ended our life as we knew it.

When we first received her diagnosis I had to give up the idea God exists to fix this for me; that if I just believed the “right way” He’d be forced to help me. I had to accept He’s not my voodoo jukebox, and I will probably never know the answer to “why” this has happened. What I do know is within the devastation stood Jesus waiting in my grief, beckoning to me.

He did not expect me to be happy about a tragedy; He did not call me to smile at the doctor’s diagnosis. He called me to face Him in all His mystery, and often times, His silence; to cry with Him, to scream with Him, to praise in agony with Him as He busted me outside the box of what I thought my life would be, what I thought my daughter’s life would be, and what could be considered a good life.

We were forced to acknowledge raw grief in ourselves and those around us, beginning with the donor family. I was left with questions of, how do I say God has blessed us because she lived when I look in the eyes of families whose children didn’t? Did He not bless them? Is He not as good to those families whose children are throwing up blood in the cancer ward or slipping away on life support or enduring surgery after surgery?

I don’t feel Jesus blessed us because Zoe is alive; He has blessed us because He is with us in this. If she had died, when she does die, he will be there with what we need, will send those people we need most, and will whisper His promise to us that someday the pain will end.

When you begin to grasp the level of suffering and agony in the world, the question of, “why me” transforms into “why not me.” What is so special about me that I should be spared?

I will not pretend acceptance is easy when not saved from this experience, because, after all, that is our usual definition of God working. However, I’ve seen Him working in very real ways in our lives; using our suffering, as Pastor Mark preached this week, to accomplish something in us and through us.

We could have become bitter, could have let resentment of other families cripple us; could have hated the life we’re leading (more than occasionally), but instead Jesus blessed us in that we see her life, our lives, not as tragic but different. And with that difference comes relationships we never would have forged and opportunities inaccessible to others.

We are just witnessing the tip of this iceberg; my marriage is being stripped down and rebuilt, my son is learning compassion for his sister as well as sick children we meet, and my personal passions are being refined and developed through these experiences. His greatest blessing to our family will always be Himself and His faithfulness to change us within any circumstance.

(image drawn by Bryan Zug)