He Will Come To Us Like The Rain - Part One

Today (July 22nd) is a special day for us; Joseph Donald Whittemore was born exactly one year ago. It's been a crazy, life-changing year, and God has constantly provided for us in ways I couldn't have expected. As this day got closer and closer though, I kept thinking back on the moment that night last year that I found myself shouting at God and questioning his goodness and faithfulness, and the one verse from the Bible that kept me going through my 'dark night of the soul'.

Not all of you may know exactly what I'm talking about, so allow me to explain. Joseph was born with a heart defect called "Transposition of the Great Arteries," more colloquially known as 'blue baby syndrome'. Essentially, oxygen-rich blood (red blood) was being pumped from his heart to his lungs rather than to the rest of his body, and oxygen-poor blood (blue blood) was being pumped throughout his body.  He wouldn't survive unless the NICU (newborn intensive care unit) took immediate action, putting him on a ventilator and preparing him for immediate surgery to keep open a valve between the chambers of his heart, which would allow oxygen-rich blood to mix with the oxygen-poor blood being circulated through his body. 

Neither my wife or I were allowed to hold our son for over twenty-four hours after his birth. The first time my wife was able to see our son was over five hours after the delivery, right before he was rushed in an ambulance from Lynchburg to the UVA Children's Hospital in Charlottesville at around 1:30 in the morning. We didn't know if he would live through the surgeries necessary to fix his heart. We didn't even know if he would still be breathing by the time we met him in Charlottesville the next afternoon.

That night was one of the rainiest nights we'd had all summer. It was almost poetic, like a scene out of a movie. 

(Or a Snoopy book script.)

And so it was that I found myself standing outside in the rain, shouting angry questions up at the cloudy sky. Shouting questions like, "Why would you let this happen?" "What did you do to my son?" "Why would a good God do this?" "God, where are you right now, right when I need your presence the most?" 

I felt desperately alone. Angry. Scared.

And I heard nothing back. Except for the thoughts in my head, I was alone. But even in that, my darkest moment, I wasn't truly alone. God was already on the move.

I walked back to our hospital room, soaking wet from standing out in the middle of the rain storm, and picked up my iPhone - searching for anything to get my mind off the creeping desperation and hopelessness. A notification caught my eye - the Bible App 'verse of the day'. Not thinking much of this in the moment, I opened it. 

“So let us know, let us press on to know the Lord.

His going forth is as certain as the dawn;

And He will come to us like the rain,

Like the spring rain watering the earth."

That verse stopped the voices in my head; in that moment, I had an answer to that most pressing question. "God, where are you right now, right when I need your presence the most?" In the middle of that rain storm, God had come to me. Not to give answers to all of my questions, or to immediately make everything right, but to be present when I needed him. And in that moment, it was enough.

This is the very first picture we have of Joseph. Even a year later, I still can't look through Joseph's pictures from our time in the hospital without tearing up. We had several restless nights waiting for Joseph's surgery, and then several more while he healed at the hospital. But even through the insecurity and the pain of seeing our son struggle through his first weeks of life, I could feel God's presence near us. Every rain shower that first week was a vivid reminder of his faithfulness to me; a reminder that I could keep going, because I wasn't alone.

The 'spring rains' that Hosea 6:3 talks about don't immediately bring about plentiful harvest. They don't magically fix things, or even provide solutions to all the problems. They don't carry all the answers to life's hard questions, or make my son's heart all better, and that's okay. God promised 'as certain as the dawn' after a dark, stormy night, he will come to us. He's there, right when we need his presence the most.

Joseph recovered from his surgery and now leads a happy, high-speed life as a one year-old. (The above picture is not indicative of this high-speed life. Sleeping is the only time he isn't high-speed.) He has a scar on his chest from the surgery that saved his life, but otherwise his heart is perfectly healthy. As any parent has undoubtedly said too many times, he grows up way too fast. He brings immeasurable light into my life, and his mere presence is a reminder to me of God's presence in my life - not unlike the rain that night a year ago today.

If you paid extra attention to the title of this blog post, you'll have noticed that this is only "part one" of my Hosea 6:3 story. In part two of three, which I hope to publish next Monday, I'd like to talk about the next 'dark night of the soul' moment for me - one I almost didn't make it through.

Thanks for reading, friends. 

P.S.

I'm currently editing this post on Sunday, July 21st, so I can publish it on Joseph's birthday. Out of curiosity, I looked up today's 'verse of the day' on the Bible App. 

It's always been those times of trouble - dark and stormy nights - that I've felt God's presence the most. Even if that feeling comes from being soaking wet after walking through a rain storm.