Perspective

Perspective can damper our victories. Perspective can brighten our sorrow. Perspective can prevent us from feeling joy and it can allow us to see the joy in tough times; it is what helps us understand there are people who have things better, and people who have things way worse. It helps us frame our own circumstances in comparison to something else.

I still remember the day Amy and I were told that we might lose our baby. We hadn’t even landed on Hannah as her name, we didn’t know the gender, but our hearts were absolutely broken at just the thought we might never hold this baby in our arms. Amy came home in tears early on a Wednesday as, after a routine ultrasound, our midwife called us and told us we should be together for some news we had to know. As we trepidatiously called our midwife, it felt surreal as she told us our child might not be viable. We wondered how could this happen to us. Tears flowed. An all encompassing numbness enveloped by questions and anxiety was all I felt. Nothing else mattered than this. Our midwife told us tests were being done and we’d find out more information in 6 days.

6 days to sit and wait.

6 days to cry together.

6 days to fill with anything to keep our minds occupied.

6 days to pray together.

6 days to research all the possibilities.

6 days to wonder and worry about our family’s future.

The time past at quarter speed; those 6 days felt like weeks. We finally received a diagnosis that our sweet child has Spina Bifida (basically a small gap at the base of the spine that puts pressure on the rest of the spinal cord and brain stem). We had never heard of SB, but we were full of mixed feelings celebrating we were not going to lose her and full of anxiety and many questions about what this meant for her life. We were walked through our different options: reparative surgery at birth, abort the pregnancy now, or the newest option on the table of fetal surgery in hopes the damage done by the gap would be minimized. We quickly decided on the fetal surgery to give our little baby the best chance possible.

To put a long story short, that I’m sure I’ll tell more of one day: the surgery went well and we learned the lesson very early on that parenting means sacrificing of yourself and what you want. My amazing and brave wife bore much of this having major surgery which lead to her confined her to a bed for months. To talk of her sacrificial demonstration of love for Hannah, her courage to go through it all, and the strength she has is not the point of this post, but to not mention it would be a miss. We now are at 14 months with our little Hannah (today actually). The journey to get here was long and difficult. However, when we get to play with Hannah for even a few minutes, it seems to make the sacrifice worth it. When we get to hear her infectious laughter, it melts away memories of anxiety and fear. When we get to see the joy on her face when she tries a new food for the first time, it helps us experience joy anew.

The bible calls us multiple times to hold a good perspective through our life. Jesus reminds us that God cares for us and our needs more than we can possibly imagine (Matthew 6:25-27). Paul teaches that we are keep our mind focused on heavenly things over earthly troubles (Colossians 3:2) and that God’s timing is different but He is still loving and makes good on his promises (2 Peter 3:8-9). I think my favourite is the perspective that in all situations and troubles we are to remember our calling and that Jesus is with us (Philippians 4:11-13).

"I’d say you’ll do best by filling your minds and meditating on things true, noble, reputable, authentic, compelling, gracious—the best, not the worst; the beautiful, not the ugly; things to praise, not things to curse. Put into practice what you learned from me, what you heard and saw and realized. Do that, and God, who makes everything work together, will work you into his most excellent harmonies.

I’m glad in God, far happier than you would ever guess—happy that you’re again showing such strong concern for me. Not that you ever quit praying and thinking about me. You just had no chance to show it. Actually, I don’t have a sense of needing anything personally. I’ve learned by now to be quite content whatever my circumstances. I’m just as happy with little as with much, with much as with little. I’ve found the recipe for being happy whether full or hungry, hands full or hands empty. Whatever I have, wherever I am, I can make it through anything in the One who makes me who I am. I don’t mean that your help didn’t mean a lot to me—it did. It was a beautiful thing that you came alongside me in my troubles.

While part of this, mainly Philippians 4:13, is one of the most misquoted verses out there (I’ll have to do a series in the future on mis-represented bible verses), I LOVE this translation found in the Message. This verse was never meant to be a rally pump up cry that “you can swish that 3-pointer game-winning shot because God gives you the strength to do so”. This is a call to perspective. This is Paul reminding us why he can make it through the tough times he is facing while in prison with such a good attitude: Jesus is with him in all of it. The focus on Jesus always gives perspective to what we are journeying through. The focus on His Kingdom always gives perspective to the world we are currently in. The focus on God always gives us perspective as to who we are and how He sees us. I definitely don’t think it’s a coincidence that Jesus’ last words on earth were “I am with you always, to the very end of the age”. This is the ultimate perspective.

We still don’t know what the future will hold for our little Hannah. There are a million questions still to be answered: will she walk or be in a wheel-chair? Was there any developmental damage done that will affect her throughout her life? Will the brain shunt we had to have ever fail? How will people respond to her and her disability? How do we answer her when she asks why she is different? PLUS all the other questions all parents have. It is often overwhelming. Sometimes it keeps me up at night. When I scroll through my feed and see friends playing with their perfectly healthy children, or watch close family friends’ kids take their first steps, my heart aches as I want that for my daughter. I would give anything for her to not have this barrier in her life. However, perspective puts our journey in context: I have walked with friends who have lost children. I have heard so many stories of SB kids who are far worse off than our Hannah. I read the stories of families in the US where they do not have universal healthcare and parents are having to decide between getting their kid medical treatment or keeping the house. I have cried thinking of all the parents who have made the tough decision to abort the pregnancy.

These relative perspectives are harmful or helpful depending on the day and what story I choose to give space in my brain. God’s perspective is always helpful. Do Amy and I absolutely love our little Hannah more than we could have imagined, yes. Does God love her even more than that, very much so. The perspective we choose to hold, be it with her walking on her own or granted mobility in a wheelchair, is the truth that she is a beautiful creation that is loved beyond measure, cared for beyond earned right, and she is part of a bigger story we can’t wait to see play out. I promise you that whatever journey you are on, you will never regret holding to the perspective that Jesus is always with you through it all, to the very end of the age.