A week ago this past Tuesday night at approximately 11:00 PM, Vicki and I received a phone call from Mitchell informing us that Traci had taken our two-week old granddaughter to the emergency room at the hospital in Sioux Center. Understandably distressed, Mitchell shared with us that Noelle was having difficulty breathing and therefore asked if we would pray for her. After hanging up, Vicki and I immediately and confidently lifted Noelle and her parents before the throne of grace trusting that we would receive mercy and find grace in our time of need.
We had hardly begun to pray when Mitchell called again to inform us that Noelle’s oxygen level had dropped to 48 and therefore she would be transferred immediately to Avera in Sioux Falls by helicopter. A flood of emotions filled my heart knowing that only those with life-threatening health complications get those kinds of rides. As did Noelle’s father, I felt helpless and afraid. At this point neither of us knew the exact cause of illness since Mitchell was still at home watching Rilyn and Sauren.
Eventually Mitchell found someone to watch the two girls. After arriving at the hospital he called again to verify that the helicopter would be leaving shortly. Vicki and I immediately set out for Sioux Falls, however my mind decided it would set out in a thousand different directions. I first reflected on the goodness of God, in that, our nuclear family has really enjoyed a lengthy season of peace—would our extended season of peace be thrust into a season of emotional pain and grief?
I began picturing thousands of other families who have traveled those fearful miles to a hospital wondering the outcome of a loved one’s future. I began to celebrate the gift of God’s grace knowing that Noelle had the absolute best care and technology available; including the possibility of a $6000 helicopter ride. I began to think of the mom in Titanyen Haiti whose little baby was dying in her arms because she didn’t have four dollars to get her into the medical clinic. I began to think of all the moms and dads and grandpas and grandmas who experienced the horrific death of a child or grandchild. I began wondering if it was possible that God, in his infinite wisdom, had determined that Noelle’s days would only number 13. I was overwhelmed with sadness as I considered how Mitchell and Traci may have been feeling. I began to wonder if God was good “all of the time.” (I am out of space to share all the other places my mind traveled).
Then as I turned off of Highway 75 on to the onramp to Interstate 90 I remembered that the first song on the CD in the car was Chris Tomlin’s Good, Good Father. In the midst of a tornado of emotions swirling in my heart, combined with the endless barrage of questions that come with runaway-mind (that’s when your thoughts eventually take you to the worst possible scenario), the Spirit quietly whispered to me, “play the song.”
It goes like this…Oh, I’ve heard a thousand stories of what they think you’re like. But I’ve heard the tender whisper of love in the dead of night. And you tell me that you’re pleased, and that I’m never alone. You’re a Good, Good Father. It’s who you are, it’s who you are, it’s who you are. And I’m loved by you. It’s who I am, it’s who I am, it’s who I am…cause you are perfect in all of your ways….
For those of you had heard about Noelle’s diagnosis of RSV and pneumonia, we thank God for all of your prayers. After much antibiotics and oxygen, Noelle is home again and is doing well. And regardless of how this story may have ended, we certainly have a good, good Father… it’s who he is!
From his beloved, Mike Altena, that’s who I am!