Waiting for the Light

That’s exactly what it felt like.  Waiting for the light to break through.

So many strange words.

Trisomy 21.

“Chromosomal abnormalities.”

Down syndrome.

For the first two days of March 1990, our world felt very dark. Our first child had just been born with a life-altering, if not life-threatening, disability. In those weary 36 hours, long minutes of numb silence were followed with tear-filled phone calls to grandparents, family and a few close friends. A broader announcement would have to wait.

To wait for the light.

In the 22nd hour of our darkness, we reached the end of ourselves. At the tender age of 27, the young leader of a new family of three, I was no longer able to lead.

All I could do was follow.

After a late night of prayer with an unnamed and otherwise unremarkable hospital chaplain, I laid myself down on a narrow, hard, 1970s-era fold-out hospital room chair, and tried to sleep.

I’ve never slept so well in all of my life. Before or since.

Come to me, all who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Matt. 11:28

When does something so ordinary become a miracle? When the Creator of the Universe makes it so.

That wonderful night’s rest was just the light we needed to make the tough decisions ahead of us, as we faced a life raising a son with Down syndrome.

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