On Borrowed Faith

It's been a long time since I had to lean on the faith of others. I have been blessed in my life to know certain things. I've had experiences that have taught me lessons in which I cannot deny that there is a Higher power, who in all His wisdom, strengthens me when I am weak. As the world around me spirals downward, I often find myself grasping for any lifeline I can find. On those days I am fortunate to have my past experiences recalled to my mind. There are just too many things that have happened to me for me to deny there is a God.

Even knowing what I know though, Ryan's surgery was a trial I don't care to repeat. I have contemplated whether or not to share my thoughts on my blog, but they aren't going away. Perhaps there is someone out there that could benefit from my story.

Two years ago we were sitting in church and our bishop began reading a list of names of people in our area who could use our faith and prayers. He had asked if we minded if Ryan was added to the list. We discussed it as a family, and we felt that it was ok to include Ry. As the names were read, my heart began to pound and my body began to shake. I knew his name was coming. We had been private about our situation until that point. Fast Sunday was a week away and the bishop had asked the ward to please fast and pray for everyone he had named. Ryan's name was on the list with 2 cancer patients. I think the fact that he made the list made it all the more real to me that we were in a serious situation.

Fast Sunday came and the meetings went as usual. As I was walking out the door that day, a father stopped me and let me know that his 5-year old twins fasted for Ryan. I was completely overcome with emotion. Fasting for 2 solid meals, or sometimes a full 24 hours is hard. These two young kids wanted Ryan to get better, and they felt like it was important that they fast for him. Wow.

Fast forward 2 years and here we are sitting in a hospital room. Our entire family felt like we were going to be saying goodbye to Ryan for the last time. Every one of us. I prepared myself for it, even though I knew I wasn't ready, I was prepared to submit my will to my Heavenly Father's. If it was time to call Ryan home, I knew that I would be supported in some way.

Day 2 for Ryan was difficult. Pain levels were so high, and as I sat on the couch watching his back arch, and his respiratory rate soar, I prayed. All I could do was pray. Pray for relief. Pray for his body to heal. He was alive after surgery. I just needed him to be alive to bring him home. I asked in my prayer why when we all felt that he wouldn't make it through surgery, was he still with us. My mind was taken back to that Sunday two years earlier - to two 5-year old twins who were fasting for my son. I was then reminded of the hundreds of people who were praying for him now. It was not my faith that was keeping him here. It was theirs. The miracle that I so desperately wanted was being granted because of the faith and prayers of so many people. I was living on borrowed faith.