So the doctor said he has a hole in his heart. This eighteen year old man/boy of mine, who took after his father in so many ways. From his coarse thick hair, the shape of his eyes, his height, the way he walks, the way he stands, right down to the hole in his heart.
Genetics, one of many things you can’t outrun in life.
It’s been there since before he opened his bright blue eyes for the first time in this world, before he ever took his first breath. As his heart was being formed, genetics left a hole there and all this time we didn’t know.
Not that I never had him tested, I did. But this hole is hidden and had it not been for the consideration of his father’s history, might not have been found at this time, but it would have reared its ugly head eventually, and eventually could have been too late.
Makes a mother shutter to think.
Come Tuesday, the physician will insert long scopes and a metal mesh that will sandwich that hole right up, close it off so it won’t leak, so the blood will flow where it’s supposed to flow.
So my son can go off to college and be healthy when he goes. So he can live life fully with a heart containing mesh, but functions as it should.
And I lay awake at night and wonder at how for eighteen years we didn’t know. How does one walk around and seem healthy, yet has a big enough hole in his heart that it has to be repaired?
I lay there and whisper thanks that it was found early and thanks for physicians who will make it whole.
As I sat in the waiting room on that third day, nervously awaiting the arrival of the doctor to tell me whether or not he found a defect in my boy’s heart, I was watching evidence of this defected world on the television.
Talks of Genocide of children, fathers and mothers. Starvation and desperation of innocents because of their beliefs by a group of people who have gaping holes in their hearts that have been filled with hatred and bitterness. Pictures of frantic families in mass exodus up a mountain, thirsting and hungry and scared and wide-eyed with the horror and grief, splay across the television. My heart hurts looking at it.
I’m thankful to my God that He makes us whole.
Because we are all born with holes in our heart. Because we’re all broken. Holes in our souls that can only be repaired by The Great Physician, whose blood flowed right out of His heart down into the ground from where He hung so we could all live life fully.
So we could all live life eternally.
And right now it seems the world has gone mad and we’re all in need of The Healer. We’re all in need of the eternal filling of the heart that comes from the Holy Spirit.
Because the truth is that we can search for every kind of quick fix patch to fill that empty space we are all born with, but the truth is the only way it will ever be repaired is by the Truth Himself.
“Jesus answered, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”-John 14:6
And as I silently cry out for my son to be fixed, as I cry out for the heart of the world to be mended, I am reminded:
“I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” John 16:33