on the eve of casting.

img_8779Tonight, Gabriel had his last “real” bath for a while. Tomorrow, we will make our way to Shriner’s for full leg casts that will prepare him for a January 12th surgery, after which he will be casted during the healing process before transitioning back into braces.

Advent has drawn to an end, yes, but there is still so much waiting, so much longing for Him to come. I’m asking Jesus tonight to show me what it is to embrace the Christmastide season, not to say farewell to the deep relief in His arrival, even to the celebration just yet. The Word was made flesh that He may dwell among us. Made flesh. Like the flesh that will be wrapped in casts tomorrow, like the flesh I can’t stop kissing before I bid it farewell for too long.

We say so often, “it’s just a season,” myself as much as anyone else. And sometimes that’s a comfort, sometimes we need to remember that something will end. But right now, as I think the residual ache of Advent, the remaining wonder of Christmastide and the awareness of His nearness I find that they offer me a treasure that will only be found in embracing these days in all their pain and pleasure. That we have a God who knows the frailty of these human bodies because He resided in one is a comfort greater than any self-made resolve could ever be. He knows. He does not empathize, He sympathizes. He does not condemn human weakness, body or soul.

I’m grabbing hold of the wonder of the incarnation, of the body, the flesh, the humanness. And when this baby is wrapped in casts tomorrow, lying on a clinic table, I’ll remember the baby wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. When Gabriel has moments of pain and discomfort, when we are exhausted and spent, I’ll remember the One who has felt every bit of what we are feeling to a greater degree than I could ever imagine yet has compassion on us. When surgery comes and goes, when this journey seems that it will never end, I will remember that my hope is not found in the bodily remedies of a broken world but in the Body that died and was raised.

We find life, hope, joy, the will to endure in the power of the Incarnation, the nearness of Him and Him alone. Nothing else will do.

“And lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age.”

Author: Abby Perry

Abby has written for The Gospel Coalition, Christ and Pop Culture, Upwrite Magazine, and The Influence Network. She is the communications coordinator for a nonprofit organization and co-facilitates two community efforts—one promoting bridge-building racial reconciliation conversations and one supporting area foster and adoptive families. Abby graduated from Texas A&M University and currently attends Dallas Theological Seminary. She and her family live in College Station, Texas.

8 thoughts on “on the eve of casting.”

  1. I love reading your posts so much. This one reminds of a sermon I heard just before Christmas about how Mary, although blessed among women, had to endure so much heartache as Jesus’ mother. From the ridicule she received from people who did not believe her story that she was carrying God’s Son, to her and Joseph having to flee from their home to Egypt because Herod was trying to find Jesus and kill him, to having to watch Him go through the opposition He had to go through during His ministry here on earth, to finally having to watch Him be crucified. The minister who preached this sermon said “even though we may jump right into the middle of destiny, that doesn’t mean that trouble is going to disappear and usually means that there’s going to be more trouble.” God doesn’t promise us a life of ease and comfort, but He does promise that no matter what we go through He will be right there with us. God bless you Abby. And thank you so much for your posts. They are such a blessing.

  2. Abby, as I read your heart, I feel like I must be getting a glimpse of what my parents’ hearts felt 65 years ago when I was put in a body cast. And maybe my mom felt a bit of it each time the cast was changed and she was able to cuddle my little body briefly before it was recast over the next seven months. How frightened they must have been when the doctor said they would know if I would ever walk when I took my first step. So much of your needing to trust and yet having your questions resonates with me as thoughts they must have had. Thank you for letting me feel a bit of what they must have felt after all these years through your journey with Gabe, even as I pray for your precious family.

  3. So well said. The praying heart of a mother and a loving God. God will orchestrate all to His perfection in time. May God bring you peace in your heart and soul. Gabriel is such a cute little boy. Lord make him comfortable during this time and stand with his parents to uplift them in their time of weakness.

  4. Reading your words is like reading your correspondence with The Lord. His thoughts, welcomed and embraced by your open and trusting heart. Thank you for sharing them with us!

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