Which of all these does not know that the hand of the Lord has done this, in whose hand is the life of every creature and the breath of all human race.
Job 12:9-10 (NET)
My youngest son, Charlie, was 6 months old when he celebrated his first Christmas. Or, as we liked to call it in our family: The Season of Sick. He had been plagued with a horrible cough since before Thanksgiving. Juicy, wet, and slobbery, the cough gurgled through his little lungs and sloshed out with sticky baby drool. His pediatrician was not concerned. His lungs were clear, his overall health good, and while we cringed at the sound, our happy little Charlie wasn’t phased at all.
On Christmas morning, I heard a change in the baby monitor. The gurgle had tightened into a wheeze. The cough turned dry, and his breaths, short and shallow. Charlie and I spent Christmas Day in the Emergency Room. While my husband handled matters at home, I had to sit by, helpless, while my baby dangled from a suspended seat in the middle of a cold, sterile room, having his lungs x-rayed. Never before had I felt so helpless.
We don’t have pictures of the boys Christmas morning. No record of our gifts. All I remember is the sound of each precious breath, God’s grace in every one.
author: Allison Pittman
Heavenly Father—thank You for the miracle of life and health. May we remember to glorify you in all its measure.
Christian Writers Group of San Antonio 