I knew. That day I knew.
Not by the words that were spoken but more by the words that were not.
By the looks on the faces and the unspoken words that exaggerated the noise of the silence.
I knew and yet I still begged God to do something!
I knew that the hope I desperately wanted to cling to of taking Emmy and Vivi home was slipping through my fingers.
Yet still, I begged. I begged for Him to do something. To perform a miracle . . .
. . . so the next time those faces entered the room, the look would be different.
He did not perform the miracle I had requested.
I don't know why. I may never know.
But I am sure of this: He was there! That day, amid those faces, among the deafening silence, He was there.
He held my weak, shaking body.
The God of the Universe made Himself small to fit into that dark hospital room and wrap Himself around the hurt.
He is not so Big that He cannot comfort in small ways. He is not so Big that He cannot enter into our hurt, our rooms, our world.
It is not the first time the Big became Small.
Some two thousand years ago, He became microscopic and grew to a tiny baby born from a virgin.
A Big God made Himself small and helpless. Every need needing to be supplied by the very ones who needed to be saved.
The creator of everything, entered into His creation.
He entered into the silence, into the hurt in a small way.
He entered into His creation in a helpless way. In a small yet big way.
He entered into His creation to do the Big. He entered into His creation to wrap Himself around the hurt and to heal . . . to save . . .
. . . To perform a miracle.
All because the Big became Small.