“Even to your old age, I will sustain you and carry you.” ~ Isaiah 46:4
Every morning, in the silent moments before the house came
to life, Nana sat at the small kitchen table with her Bible and a chipped blue
mug of black coffee. The house had settled into quieter routines, its old
clamor gone, yet now and then stillness gave way to the joyful presence of an
infant grandchild - happy gurgles and
hungry cries that livened up the space.
Her hands were much older now, fingers stiff with
arthritis. They’d once trembled in hospital rooms, clenched in prayer beside their
teenage daughter fighting a childhood illness doctors weren’t sure she’d
survive. Those hands had pleaded through restless nights, offering boundless love
and hopeful courage, asking God to spare their child.
And He had.
For years afterward,
Nana wondered what the future might hold. Would her daughter remain healthy? Could
her body ever carry a child of her own? Nana never voiced these fears. She
simply trusted the God who had already proven Himself faithful.
Today, Nana sat in her
favorite chair near the fireplace, cradling her infant granddaughter. Maria’s
tiny hands fumbled with the bottle as she fed, eyes wide with curiosity, soft
coos escaping between suckles. Firelight danced across the room, casting a glow
that mirrored the love in Nana’s heart. Every breath, every sigh, every moment
felt like a miracle – life born from one nearly lost.
Then she took Maria’s miniature hands and cupped them
inside her own. A warm glow flickered across their faces, as if heaven itself
had paused to watch. No words were needed – only the pulsing rhythm of breaths,
heartbeats, and a shared sense of gratitude – tender, holy, and complete.
Nana felt the weight
of years tighten across her chest: the hospital nights, the unanswered
questions, the prayers whispered through fear. And yet, in that same breath,
she felt the wonder of the moment bloom, living proof that God had been
faithful through it all.
Time seemed to bend,
past and present meeting in a single, sacred hush. She thought of the long road, from fear to faith, from hospital halls to bedtime stories. Gratitude, she
realized, wasn’t forgetting the pain. It was remembering Who had carried them
through it.
As she readied for bed
and turned out the lights, she folded her aching hands once more in prayer, not
because she needed another miracle, but because she never wanted to stop
thanking the One who had already given so many:
Precious Lord, thank You for the life You
spared, the years You carried us through, and the miracle I held in my arms
today. Thank You for every answered prayer… even the ones that came wrapped in
waiting and fear. As my strength fades, let my gratitude grow, resting fully in
Your faithfulness and promises. Amen
