An open letter to God:

Before I start, God, I am going to be asking and saying a lot of things that I already know the answers to, but I need to say them, so please hear me out.

I’m sitting here tonight, not sure what to say, or think, or do, but I feel like I have to write something. I am not the best writer in the world, or in Canada, or even in my own home (Cynthia is blessed with that gift), but I want to tell You a bit about what has transpired to our little family in the last 48 hours.

Our unborn son Jack is only 20 weeks old. He has a tumor on his back. We don’t know what type of tumor it is yet, or how quickly it is growing, but we know that it is quite large, and that his life is in danger. Our boy is healthy; his heart, brain, lungs, and limbs are developing as they should. He is active, and kicking up a storm. The doctors say that he is perfect in every way. Except for one. The tumor. The cursed tumor. The one that I would take onto my rather large body a million times over to avoid my son having it on his tiny little body. The one that has me so angry that I can hardly see or think straight. The one that may kill my beloved Jack. The one.

There are so many questions that I have to, need to ask. How did this happen? Why did it happen? Why Jack? Is Jack in pain from this growth on his back? Was it detectable at the first ultrasound 5 weeks ago? Why us? Can the doctors save him? Will the tumor indeed be benign? Will it attach to his spinal chord? Will he outgrow the tumor to ensure that it is safe for him to be born? How will this affect his quality of life?

I love You, God, and I believe in You. I’ve grown a lot spiritually in the past 4 years, and I have come to know that You are a kind and merciful God. When Cynthia’s dad was killed, her family, while devastated by his death, knew that this was Your plan for him and them, and they accepted it. I learned a lot about faith from that incident. I have seen firsthand Your love time and time again. Bringing Cynthia into my life, and blessing us with two beautiful children, that was Your work, and I am very thankful for it.

So tonight, Lord, I sit before You, Your servant, scared, confused, and humbled, and I have to ask You for something. A favor. A big favor. Something that I’m not sure I have the right to ask You, but will nonetheless. The biggest, most selfish thing that I could ever ask for:

Please don’t take my boy.

I know that he belongs to You, we all belong to You. And I know that You have a plan for all of us. And I know that You may need him in Heaven. But I need him too. I need to see his face, to hear him cry, see him drink from his mother’s breast. I need to see him laugh, and cry, and drive his big sister crazy. I need to see him ride his bike, go to school, learn to drive. I need to see him graduate from college, get married, and have a family of his own. I need to hold him, to kiss him, to give him a karate chop. I need to raise him. I need to teach him about life. I need to teach him about You. I need him.

I have nothing to offer You. Lord. All I have is a father’s burning love for his unborn son that knows no boundaries, and the hope that it is not Jack’s time to be reunited with You.

There will be many more prayers to You, God. Please know that I have only begun to pray. Please don’t get tired of hearing from me. I need You to hear me. I need You to answer my prayers.

Please don’t take my boy.

J-L