Death has hunted you since light first pierced your eye;

your mother’s heart was broken as you struggled to cry.

Dark turned your skin for dark was your lot

And then ever darkening was our growing thought.

The fierce “roar of many waters” surrounded you;

Unknown if you would live to see “His mercies made new”.

He guarantees none the promise of tomorrow;

No agreed pact that you may live and grow

The truth is you nearly died and our hearts felts as if they had.

Forgotten was all that was once bright and glad.

Then a thought, not original,

though eternal:

“Christ is good. Christ will work all things for good.”

(Written in reflection of my son’s hospitalization following his birth).