Options...

I sensed that something wasn’t right by the tone in her voice, the way she turned the monitor away from my view, and the discomfort she expressed before excusing herself from the room. Something was terribly wrong—again.

A solemn look washed over the doctor’s face as he walked into the room. “There seems to be a problem, …” he said as he began to explain the severity of what they were viewing on the monitor.

I was sent for fetal assessment where they could survey the situation in detail. It was all too familiar a place, since I had been a regular there in the past. The same doctor who urged me to consider “my options” was there, as well as the nurse who made it abundantly clear that I “still had time to abort.” The smile on my face, and the calm reply to their horrifying news gave them only one conclusion—she doesn’t get it. Perhaps that’s why they called my husband at work, and rang me at home several times--to make sure that we did.

We sat in the same office again looking at a new little being, marvelously and wonderfully made. Being only six inches long, his kidney was already enlarged to about an inch. “This one is a case far worse than the last. He will have severe kidney problems if he even makes it to term. You have options…”

The only option I had was that of prayer. And we did pray, fervently and in faith before God.

Lying in bed one night alone in the dark, I felt the gentle voice of God whisper, “Nathaniel,” in my ear. Nathaniel? I wondered, Why Nathaniel? It hadn’t been a name that had ever crossed my mind.

I jumped out of bed, clicked on the lamp, and flipped through the pages of my reference Bible till my finger rested on the words… Nathaniel: Gift from God.

I turned that name around in my thoughts the next day wondering why. Why “gift from God?” why not John or Mark, Luke, or Ichabod—why? Until the answer came to us, clearly and directly as though God was speaking Himself.

Sitting in my living room that very night a woman prayed, “Every day that this child lives is a gift from you, Lord.” We knew from that very second that his name would be Nathaniel.

I went back to fetal assessment for what would be the fourth look at the little man that God was forming inside me. The child who gave me only one option, and that option was to pray--and pray fervently before God. The little man who, one day, would be my living, breathing, giggling, praying, cart-wheeling, hand-holding gift from God--my Nathaniel.

After looking at the screen, the nurse excused herself from the room.

I sensed that something was right by the tone in her voice, the way she turned the monitor away from my view, and the confusion she expressed before excusing herself from the room. Something was very right.

An astonished look washed over the doctor’s face as he walked into the room. “There seems to be a mistake, …” he said as he began to explain the miracle of what they were viewing on the monitor.

The confused look on his face, and their inability to explain this miracle gave me only one conclusion--they didn’t get it. Perhaps that’s why God called me to their office several times--to make sure that they did.

Martin Luther said, "To be a Christian without prayer is no more possible than to be alive without breathing." In Nathaniel’s case, as with most of my children that’s true in the literal sense.

When pain rips through your life taking down everything you’ve tried so hard to hold on to--perhaps even life itself, your left with only one option and that option is to pray--and pray fervently before God.

Iris is hosting "In 'Other' Words" this week. Head over to Sting My Heart to read her take on the quote and meet other participants.