My daughter Leslie turns 30 years old today. That right, 30 years ago today I took Laura
to the hospital in San Salvador, El Salvador.
That, in and of itself, was an act of faith for me. The delivery was pretty normal except for the
fact that the doctor who was going to do the delivery was smoking a cigarette
in the delivery room as he was about to examine Laura. And the other thing was that the doctor did not
want me in the delivery room; but I refused to leave…who knows, he might have
lit up again at any time!
Leslie came
into the world in the normal way and our first daughter was a true prize. I began to dream about her future and when I
did I could not get out of my mind a beautiful girl riding a horse with a long
blond ponytail. I still have that dream
of Leslie, only it will not come true in this life. Leslie developed seizures when she was just
two months old. We did not think
anything of it first and neither did the neurologist we took her to in El
Salvador. We went to Costa Rica and had
an electroencephalogram (EEG) done on her.
Three doctors looked at it and two said it was fine and one said there
might be a problem. We still were not
satisfied. Laura and Leslie went to
Tulane Medical Center where my cousin, who taught at the medical school there,
referred us to a pediatric neurologist.
The
results were not what we wanted to hear. Leslie had a seizure disorder and we needed to
stop the seizures which were damaging her brain. Well, 30 years later, we have still not
controlled the seizures. However, Leslie’s
health has been a controlling factor in our lives. We have bought a house, purchased vans,
determined vacations (or lack of them), changed jobs, changed career goals, and
simply tried to change the future to be the best parents we could be for our dear
Leslie. It has all been worth it.
Raising Leslie has been one of the most profound things that has ever happened
to us.
I am
about to embark on a study of the book of Job at Trinity Church where I am the
pastor. I have been reading, wrestling,
praying, and crying about suffering over the past couple of weeks. Though God never created the world with
suffering in it, I am finding that it is only through suffering that we learn
to love God. What a paradox. God allows suffering to come into our life, which
in turn teaches us to love him more. Now
this is not the regular response to suffering.
Often we turn in on ourselves and think that we must deserve whatever is
happening to us. Not true. And just as often we turn on God and tell him
he is not fair and we did not deserve whatever we are passing through. Also not true.
But
instead of blaming self or God, we simply need to find the source of our life
and happiness not in our health, possessions or family, but only in God. And when we find God as the source of everything,
then nothing can take our happiness or our life away from us. Ultimately, suffering teaches us what really
matters in life and in death. And once
we have learned that, our joy is secure in all circumstances. That is the best thing we can learn in life
-- too bad it often takes several bouts with suffering for us to begin to
understand this. But once we know and
experience the potential of suffering, life becomes the joy that God wants it
to be.
