By Amanda Torres
Collegiate, University of Arkansas
As she struck a match to light the candle for our spiritual direction session, I heard my director say the familiar words she opens with time and time again, “The Light of Christ—who is with us, for us, and in us.”
I needed this simple yet profound reminder to sink in deeply on this particular day. I was 21 weeks pregnant, and it was the day after the anatomy scan where my husband and I had found out there was something wrong with our daughter’s heart.
I shared our doctor’s suspicions with my director, and the floodgates opened. This friend and mentor could probably swim in a pool of my tears over the years. Whenever they come, though, those tears never seem to derail a “set agenda” for our time together. That day, my director helped me create space for the ways the Lord wanted to work in my heart and life through the overwhelming newness we were confronting. She asked questions and pointed me to truth.
Fast forward to another spiritual direction session. Baby Charlotte is nine months old, has undergone two open heart surgeries, and has finally been home with us more days than she spent in the Cardiovascular ICU. So many things ran through my mind as I prepared to get on the call.
Amidst everyday details that come with being a stay-at-home mom/part-time Nav Staff (keeping up with laundry, defrosting breastmilk, mixing formula, cleaning infant medicine syringes, attempting to schedule time to meet with a student, meeting graphic design deadlines, etc.), I was trying to stifle the anxiety and grief I was experiencing from medical information and statistics I’d recently read concerning Charlotte’s heart condition. Our baby is thriving, but there’s still so much unknown—25% of infants with critical heart defects don’t make it to their first birthday, many encounter significant issues in their first 20 years, and all are at a higher risk of complications from colds, RSV, influenza, etc. So much to be anxious about!
I don’t have to stifle it here. As my director lit the candle, once again she repeated, “The Light of Christ—who is with us, for us, and in us.” As she shared a poem, Matthew 6:26-27 came to mind:
Look at the birds of the air, that they do not sow, nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not worth much more than they? And who of you by being worried can add a single hour to his life?
She graciously listened as I mind-dumped about my fears and the verses that came to mind, asking occasional questions to help me go deeper. I left our call that day with a much needed reminder that my heavenly Father is with my little family and He loves my kid. My anxiety and grief are valid, and God doesn’t rebuke me for them. There are a lot of unknowns and scary days ahead regarding Charlotte’s health, but God invites me to look at the birds of the air… to not let my anxieties and fears rob me of seeing God’s provision and care for Charlotte (and me) today.
Christ is with me, for me, and in me.
