This weekend my oldest granddaughter had her ballet recital and since they are very far away, we couldn’t go. My daughter sent us a video of it so we could see Ali dance. I was in the garage, helping my husband when the video came through on my phone.
We pulled it up to watch, and on the screen were about a dozen little girls, dressed like music box ballerinas, with a music box song playing.
And we watched her.
And I wept.
Great big shoulder shaking tears, with a smile on my face.
Because she was dancing.
Because while watching this video of this sweet girl dancing on stage,
I was remembering when I met her.
She was a week old and had just been diagnosed with HLHS (Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome).
I remembered the night before we had to leave to come back home, sitting in her hospital room, holding her – all 5 pounds of baby and more tubes and wires than I knew what to do with.
I was rocking her, not knowing what was going to happen in the coming months,
and I prayed.
I Prayed. So. Hard.
I prayed she would live.
I prayed that God would allow her to receive a new heart.
I prayed for the donor family.
I prayed that we’d be able to watch her grow up.
I prayed that she would survive.
And I knew even then, that God doesn’t always answer our prayers with a Yes.
But I prayed so desperately that He would this time.
And now, here we are, almost 6 years later.
And she’s dancing.
I didn’t even think to pray for that.
What a blessing it was to watch her, on my tiny phone screen, a thousand miles away.