The moon took us to the hospital,
Effortlessly shining the way.
At each turn, we admired as she grew
A little closer, a little more colorful;
Albeit, still unsure what to wear
For the occasion, as she held up
This cloud, then tried on that cloud,
Revealing a wonderful array of awe
To calm a boy with shallow breath
And a dad quietly crying, “Abba! Father!”
As our destination comes into view
She tucks behind hospital,
For her rounds are finished
And the physician will take it from here.
The Story
Nothing quite raises your blood pressure than the words, “calm down.” I didn’t say them, but that was exactly what I needed my son to do. The inhaler failed, the nebulizer fell short. At 2:00 am, the best option was the Emergency Room. I grew up with somewhat-frequent asthma attacks and I know the panic of breathless breathing. It’s scary thing that he was going through.
As we drove, the moon almost shouted at us with its immensity, orange color, and waxing from the top down, as if it was tilted. Each time we saw it, it looked different—taking on new color, or draped with new clouds. We were beautifully distracted from the moment of panic. We watched it, in awe, as it stood ahead of us, west towards the hospital. It gave me and my son the “calm down” we needed. The declaring of God’s glory; the proclaiming of his handiwork (Psalm 19:1).
At church, I’m leading a study of Romans 8. Derek Thomas teaches that the crying out, “Abba! Father!” (v. 15) suggests a sense dereliction (e.g., Jesus at Gethsemane). The kind of crying out we make during times of distress. In these experiences, I’m sorry to say that I’m often tempted to cry out, “Aloof! Lord!” Romans 8:15 is helping me correct that faulty impulse. I’m reminded that He is my Father, who loves me and adopted me.
My prayers are not to the abstract, far-away sovereign, but to my loving Father. In times of distress, let us cling to the privilege of crying out, “Abba! Father!” He hears. He cares.
What a blessing!!! Thank you.