I watched a little boy take his final breath this morning. He had just celebrated his first birthday this month.
He died from dehydration caused either by malaria or meningitis, his doctors were waiting for the lab results, his family was preparing to donate blood for a much needed transfusion.
He was rushed to the OR to have an IV started . . . the nurses on the ward couldn't access a vein and so they came for help. I stood at his head, praying that this one would live . . . that the Lord would intervene and save this precious life.
But for reasons beyond my comprehension, the answer this morning was 'No, not this time.'
Baby took his last breaths as the Chief of the OR searched for a viable vein in his hands, arms, feet, legs, neck, and head. They were moving to the groin region as a last resort, but it was too late.
As I had to force myself to go back to work (all I wanted to do was lock myself in my office and cry) I found the natural instinct to lash out and fight came creeping in. Inside I began yelling 'WHY LORD?!?! You have the power to stop this suffering and needless death! WHY?!?!' And in the midst of the internal battle, hymns started to play in my head. Hymns about God's holiness. Hymns about Heaven.
As I began to hum along to my mental music, I found the grief in my heart being replaced with a peace that only comes with surrender . . . with the acceptance that there is a Wisdom greater than my own. A confession, like Job's, that I was not present when the foundations of the earth were laid or the oceans given their boundaries . . . I know that no purpose of God's can be hindered . . . I have spoken of things that I don't understand, those too wonderful for me to comprehend . . . I have heard Him, but now I see Him. (Job 38 & 42).