I know it must sound strange, but there are aspects of this experience that I am going to miss. One reason I write is out of a fleeting hope that somehow documenting these days will freeze its many blessings in time. There is so much we have learned, so much we have been given, and so many jolts of happy feelings from the opportunities of the last nine weeks. These are the kinds of gifts you want to squeeze so tight because you know that time will have its way and eventually ease you from them. Kind of like the feeling of holding and smelling your newborn babies on your chest while they sleep.
I have been thinking a lot about prayer since before Lucas and Olivia were born, since the day that everything turned on a dime when the sonographer noticed something different, up to and including today. This is my hopefully not feeble attempt to save some of these thoughts because I have a suspicion that the day will come again when the value of prayer--or simply positive thoughts if you prefer--will not be so self-evident.
For the last eight plus years, almost every day, I get on my knees in the morning and at night. I thank God for the gift of another day. I thank God for the opportunity to live. For those who know me well, you know that the gift of life, and rebirth, is especially near to my heart. I pray because each and every day I feel privileged to have another shot.
From the very beginning with Lucas and Olivia, we have said daily prayers. Prayers in those first days were especially intense. It was a spiritual moment, that first day I sat with Olivia and Lucas--well stood because back then we couldn't take them out but could only lay our hands on them inside their 'boxes'--and taught them how I pray. In those early days, I explained that we don't pray for things. We don't pray for outcomes. We don't pray to get better. We don't ask God to do it our way. We simply have faith that She knows what She's doing. And so, we pray for strength. We say, God I'm scared, but I trust you, so please give me strength to embrace your will and do the very best I can.
Each day, the kids now give thanks for the gift of another day, for the opportunity to live. We give thanks for all those who are praying for us, all the kind doctor's and nurses who are taking care of us, and all those who are feeding mommy and daddy. We ask that love continues to grace these peoples' lives. And, we say a special prayer for all of our friends in the NICU (we name them but will allow them to keep their anonymity here). We ask that everyone can have the strength to continue to grow stronger, so that someday we can repay all this grace to others.
So, what I have been thinking a lot about, is "all those who are praying for us." I have visions of whole churches in Texas praying for Lucas and Olivia. I see families in Los Angeles, San Jose, D.C., and Virginia who have little kids--not much older than Lucas and Olivia--praying for us, the Allen twins, the Allen family, or the Allen kids. I am grateful for all those who 'pray' not to God, but to a secular, humanist equivalent, as one of my sisters aptly called it in their early days.
We feel you. And I have no doubt that Lucas and Olivia's success is a direct product of your thoughts and prayers.
But, what really got me thinking--bear with me, I'm almost there--was the stories of some who told me how their prayers for Lucas and Olivia helped their own lives. One friend explained that she had begun praying a lot in the last couple years, and her husband was at first a bit confused by the development--which reminded me so much of what Marni must have been thinking in our early days when this weird boy got on his knees and crossed himself every night before he got in bed. My friend told the story of how her husband graduated to liking the fact that she prayed, but after hearing the story of Lucas and Olivia began to join her in prayer. I think of the families who draw closer together each night, or before each meal, praying together or thinking happy thoughts about our family. And, of course, there are the many of you who thank us for writing and describe those little jolts of happy feelings that Lucas and Olivia and the Allen family's attitude brings to your lives.
Imagine that. Here they are, not even nine pounds between the two of them after nine weeks, and they have half the free world praying for them. And, even better yet, and this is the kicker for me, Lucas and Olivia's lives seem to have brought grace to the hearts of those who pray for them. In praying for them, the prayors are blessed. Maybe that's why they smile those cute little, I-know-something-that-you-don't smiles while they are sleeping.
PS--All is great in the cabbage patch. Everyone is eating, growing, and breathing well.
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