Most of us never think twice about breathing. But when my newborn daughter stopped breathing, it was all I could think about.
We searched for answers and had dozens of doctor visits, trips to the ER, trial and error with different breathing monitors, but the problem persisted. For seven months, we took shifts during the night, watching our daughter sleep. We held her upright on our chests, with our hands resting on her back, feeling the rise and fall of her breath, unsure if she would stop breathing suddenly again. My heart had made its home in my throat, choking me with fear. I couldn’t live like this. Tears became the only prayer I knew.
Some nights, I felt like I was God’s downstairs neighbor, banging on the ceiling with a broomstick, begging for answers. Other times, I sulked outside, waiting for him to open the door. The truth is, I didn’t need an explanation. I needed a Savior.
Even in the darkest moments, when my daughter’s face would turn blue, God was there. Like the warm sun, kissing our backs on a summer day, he comforted us through the unknown. He didn’t give us answers, but he gave us his peace.
It was in the dead of the night when God reminded me that the first breath we tasted was his. Remembering that it was God’s breath that filled her lungs, gave me hope.
Our darkest moments give us the opportunity to experience the power of God’s presence. Our struggles can help assure us that our faith is real. No matter what trials you are facing this Christmas season, you can trust the Prince of all Peace. He is with you and his peace is inside you. Just allow yourself to breathe it in.