As I sit in my son’s hospital room today I feel similar to the way I have in the past.

Children’s Hospital in Seattle has been home away from home for our son Nolan.

He’s spent nearly two months of his 19-month-old life here so far.

They are wonderful. The doctors and nurses take such good care of him and our family.

But looking across the room at our son with tubes, wires, IVs, and tape wrapped around him never gets easy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Necessary? Probably.

Painful? Yes.

This visit is another attempt to fight off a virus that has been attacking his under-prepared airways. A cold that would sideline you and me for a few days has the ability to do far worse to Nolan.

So here we sit. Here we cry. Here we pray.

Jesus help.

Help our boy. Heal our baby. Hold him in your arms.

And I’m not exactly sure why, but it’s here I feel the same overwhelming feeling I’ve felt before.

Close.

I feel like Jesus is right here with us.

It seems strange on the surface.

I’m not sure I can fully articulate why. Maybe I should feel forgotten about. Maybe I should be shaking my fist at God or pretending like he doesn’t exist.

Because come on, how could a loving God allow a sweet little boy to go through so much?

But I really feel close to God in moments like these.

Maybe it’s because Jesus has a history of being close to the hurting. He has a history of touching the untouchables and loving the unlovables.

The truth is I tend to feel more distant from God when things are perfect. I pat myself on the back and congratulate myself for all the right decisions I’ve made that make my life so wonderful.

Silly. Embarrassing. Foolish.

God loves all his kids the same perfect way. Unconditionally.

But for now Psalm 34.18 is our verse:

If your heart is broken, you’ll find God right there;
if you’re kicked in the gut, he’ll help you catch your breath.

Thank you Jesus for being with us.

I need you. Nolan needs you. We need you to be close.

Thanks for your presence today. Help me sense your closeness everyday.

Amen.