A Strange Feast

Gavin and I had an amazing backpacking adventure before we had children.  We started in St. Andrews, so Gav could play the Old Course, we traversed through York, London, Paris, down the Rhine to Rothensburg, over to the Cinqua Terra, more south to Florence and Rome and ended our excursion in Venice.  It was absolutely wonderful.  My favorite was the Cinqua Terra, "The Five Lands," literally perched on the Mediterranean Sea. 

I remember a night we spent there on the shore amidst the open air restaurants and the Italian vacationers.  I had the best latte of my life, never to be repeated, I'm sure.  I was also so impressed by those dining.  They spent hours at the table.  Laughter, loud talking, the clink of the glasses and silverware was like music beside the sea.  The merry-makers continued even after we had finished our meal, had dessert and coffee and walked back to our flat.  We had witnessed true feasting!

As amazing as that night was, it fell short in this regard:  Though we took in the beauty of those feasting around us, we didn't sit down to join them.  We just watched.  It reminds me of a special time I had praying with a friend during which I saw a picture of my spiritual life. 

I could see myself on my knees beside a table, gazing at crumbs in my hand, trying to be content and grateful for them.  Jesus was in this picture, too.  He was seated at the table.  Though my ears didn't hear a sound, it was if Jesus said, "What are doing down there, friend?  Please, come sit beside me.  Here is your place right here at my table."  I can say that, in a spiritual sense, I keep trying to take Jesus up on His offer.

A meaningful verse to me in reference to this picture of feasting with Jesus is from the well-known Psalm 23:

"You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies."

What a strange thing to do!  When enemies are near, we eat?  We sit down and feast when there is a chance of harm and provocation? 

Well, here we are.  Enemies have drawn closer.  Our recent blood test result gave us information that was both shocking and heavy.  Wylie's DNA does not indicate that she has Trisomy-21 (Down Syndrome), but instead a different and more severe chromosomal abnormality, Trisomy-18 (Edward's Disease).  Her test was almost 90% positive. 

We have begun to process what this may mean for the future.  Here is what the percentages say:  of those pregnancies given a chance to continue (about 86% are terminated) only 50% of the babies are born.  Of those born, 90% will pass away before their first birthdays.  Because the 18th chromosome is physically bigger, babies with such a large amount of extra genetic material can struggle in every way. 

Right now, Wiley's body is growing and developing heathily in so many ways.  Our perinatologist and midwife are committed to caring for us and making sure we have additional doctors and surgeons who will contribute their expertise in helping her as best as people can do.  We will monitor her and make plans for her birth and the interventions she may need to have the fullest and best life possible.  These are the things we can do.

Our enemies (disease, doubt, anxiety, fear, control, death) encroach, but the gift of Wiley's life and God's promises shine ever brighter against the dark backdrop cast by these interlopers.  This is what comes after the first verse I shared:

"You anoint my head with oil;
     my cup overflows.
Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life
     and I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever."

At the most unlikely time, with enemies surrounding us, we are invited to sit.  Indeed, our cups overflow in the sense that we are astounded by the miraculous gift Wylie is.  We have only experienced a hint.  We are also amazed by what God has done to make hope, faith, and love possible in whatever the future may hold.  We are certain, just as David was in writing this Psalm, that God has only goodness and mercy in mind for us--all of us.  Our cups, at His table, indeed overflow.