Kristi

My sister is my best friend in the whole world.  As of six weeks ago, we talked every day, several times a day.  My routine was to put the girls in the car, head to the gym and hit my speed dial on the way out of our neighborhood. 

We talked about everything.  She was pregnant and I was going through licensing for foster parenting.  Our conversations hinged around our major life events.  We talked paint colors for bedrooms, kids, sports, school, husbands, weekends.  We vented when we were angry or frustrated.  I liked to make her laugh because her laugh was contagious and to make her laugh was to make me laugh. 

And then I got her email…

“Having contractions.  Going to hospital.  Pray.”

I called her phone repeatedly, until her mother-in-law finally answered.  “She’s in the labor room, having the baby… Oh wait.  She just had her.  I’ll call you back.”

She was only 27 weeks.  Three months early.  I didn’t know if the baby was alive.  Kristi went through natural birth after two C-sections and I wasn’t sure if she was okay.  I stared at the phone, willing it to ring.  Finally, her mother-in-law called back.  Lilly Sue was 2 pounds, 12 ounces and being transferred to the NICU. 

Days later, we were licensed and we got our first placement.  An infant boy that we fell instantly in love with. 

Both of our lives have been completely altered and our phone conversations are much less frequent.  She tries to call me on her way to the hospital every morning, but I’m usually feeding the baby and starting school by the time I notice the missed call.  I immediately call her back, knowing that she’s already in the NICU, staring at the monitors, watching Lilly take a breath.  A breath.  A breath. 

We connected the other day and I told her that our sweet boy was leaving.  Our difficulties are very different, but revolve around two beloved babies.  She told me how tired she was of crying in front of strangers and her kid’s friends.  I told her I was tired of crying during my runs and in the baby section of Walmart.  We’re both such messes. 

But, we’re God’s messes.  We send each other scripture and songs that speak to us.  We’ve grown in our faith like nothing I’ve seen and we still have each other.  We still talk and vent and discuss life.  The laughter’s missing, but it will come back when it’s time.

She told me the other day that she was tired of being so weak in all of this.  Me, too.  But, someday, when this passes and we’re looking back on it, our strength is going to take us by surprise.

Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong. (2 Corinthians 12:9-10)