Does He Have any New Words Yet?

Does He Have any New Words Yet?

Nothing like slaying the elephant, only this time it was not Thomas Edison, but my ten year old son, Thomas, and there was no actual elephant unless you count the boy named Amos. He is our elephant though, in the most figurative way possible, as we wait with baited breath for the words to breech the surface.

The question came hard and fast; we had only arrived home from surgery late that evening. Amos was reunited with Thomas the following day and as he smiled at his big brother, Thomas released the elephant. He may as well. The hinted questions were coming hard and fast, friends and family, via text and email, Instagram and Facebook, my blog and my website. Less blunt perhaps, not as direct perhaps, but of course everyone wants to know when. I do too, only I still struggle with the possible outlier answer of never. What if there are no new words?

Have faith, they say. God’s got this, they say. He has a wonderful mama, they say. Believe in miracles, they say. I do. All those things, I really do, but I remember too. How can I ignore the paperclip that grasps my ankle like a medieval ball and chain; the baggage that guided my thoughts and decisions and nearly destroyed me. Of course, I kept that a wonderful secret, my smile, my aloofness, my cool distance. All a farce and then one day, I gave up and started telling, visiting the thoughts and feelings and fears that sought ownership. Never again.

My prayers are fervent, my wishes wished and my trust immense, but somehow my exterior portrays a coat of skepticism. Perhaps, it’s a shield to protect my scarred heart as I’m really not doubting what may be. It’s just that I can see the big picture like never before and my walk of faith means sometimes shielding my eyes from the fire or avoiding potholes along the road. I’m still walking even though I trust that the answer may not be the one I want.

I have to believe and beg but simultaneously prepare myself that new words may never come. It’s not a pre-emptive strike on God, but a gentle warning from my faith that faith doesn’t promise our desires will be met. You can’t tell a woman and mother to forget the little girl that begged for healing of a brother and yet, it didn’t happen the way I wished. Still, faith remained the pillar of my soul. I don’t waver today, even though I fight the fear and worry and clench my mind from allowing the thoughts of the future to lap at my tender heart.

Does he have any words yet? No, I said, smiling. Not yet and awaiting an exhale.

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