Hope Against Hope

I was fascinated recently by the story of an orca named Tahlequah. If you haven’t heard the story, Tahlequah is a killer whale who gave birth to a calf on July 24. The baby died shortly after birth and rather than moving on after the death, this mama carried the baby on her head for at least seventeen days, covering 1,000 miles. One of the reports I read said that she was pushing her baby to connect with it, and hope against hope— hoping that it will take a breath. Tahlequah traveled with her pod, dozens of miles a day and pushed the baby’s hundreds of pounds with her the whole time. She would pick up the body as it sank, hoisting it out of the water to take a breath, then repeat the whole thing.

I had been following this story for days, and was sitting in church when I saw an update that she had finally let go of her baby (yes I was on my phone in church :-/…just for a minute). The second I read that I started to cry. For someone who isn’t necessarily an animal lover or a crier, this was weird for me. And it’s not like it was a dignified tear rolling down the cheek cry appropriate in any good worship service. No, it was a step out of service until you can blazing pull yourself together and stop drawing attention to yourself during the announcements kind of a cry.

See, I can identify with Tahlequah. I’ve been in her shoes…(fins?)…I’ve been a mom who had to let go way before I was ready and held on much longer than it seemed I should have. If you haven’t read my blogs before you may not know, but two years ago we lost a little baby. A sweet boy we named Enoch. I had a routine appointment scheduled for early afternoon on April 19, 2016 and before the appointment was over I knew that my baby was gone. I knew I had options, and I knew logically what I needed to do. But I couldn’t. With what can only be described as the irrational love of a mama, I hung onto that baby. For seventeen days I carried him, hoping against hope that he would kick again. Hoping against hope that the report was wrong. Believing against the odds that a miracle would happen and my boy would live. I knew I needed to let him go, but I couldn’t help but feel like I was giving up on him. Like I was giving up on God, not giving Him a chance to work a miracle. For seventeen days I prayed desperately that Enoch’s story would be rewritten, that my story would be rewritten. I knew that I was probably being irrational, illogical, that it wasn’t in my best interest to hold onto this baby, but I couldn’t make myself give in. I identify with Tahlequah because early in the morning on the seventeenth day, May 6th, I held my baby for the first and last time. It seemed like my desperate prayers had gone unheard, unanswered.

God didn’t answer my prayer the way I wanted Him to, but He has restored me in ways I never imagined He could. He has brought so much joy into our home. So much healing. He has given us opportunities that I know people would line up to have. And now He is sending us out. He’s asked us to go. It wasn’t an easy decision, but I have one hundred percent certainty that it is the right decision. And it has everything to do with the desperate prayer of a mama

There is nothing like the prayer of a mom for her child. I have an unending list of things that I pray over my kids all the time. Things that I am desperate for God to answer, and things that only He can do. I have to hand my kids over to Him every day and trust Him to know what is best for them. Trust Him to hold them in His hand.

I believe there are moms out there right now, with children who are far from Jesus. With sons and daughters who have walked away from the truth. I believe He spoke to me about moms who are praying for their children. Who feel hopeless and are begging God to send someone to tell them. And that’s where we come in.

This month we moved out of our home, we’re getting ready to load up our kids and hit the road, telling people about Jesus every chance that we get. And I know that God will put the prodigals in our path. That the desperate, sometimes irrational prayers of a mom that I may never meet are being answered as our family has the opportunity to minister to their children.

A mom never really lets go of her baby. The bond is always there. The love is incomparable. And I fully believe that God will answer the prayers a desperate mom prayers over them. Sometimes in a way they didn’t expect, but always answers.