In His Hands

I am sitting on the edge of a blue pleather sofa couch. The room is white, lacking personality, and the air has a chill. I can hear the sirens of an ambulance in the distance and a helicopter landing on a rooftop nearby. There are alarms beeping and voices echoing throughout the halls. I have spent all afternoon on the phone calling every family member I can reach. My voice is raspy and my throat aches. She was wheeled away hours ago, but I can't pull myself together enough to leave the room. I have one final thing I need to take care of before I can pick myself up and leave. I grab my phone, tap the Facebook icon, and begin to type, "Aralyn Faith is whole and healed now. She's walking, talking, and dancing alongside Jesus." This is where I wake up from my worst nightmare of my life, pouring sweat with tears flooding my eyes. This is what I see every time I close my eyes. I can't make it go away. I can't make it stop. It's pure torture. Every night the same nightmare replays in my head on repeat. No matter how many times I wake up, it comes back to haunt me. I have never been so scared for Aralyn's life before. Why won't it stop? 

The devil. He sees my weakness and he's trying to tear me down. I have to admit, he's close. I shouldn't have this fear. It shouldn't be a possible reality, but it is. I don't know when God will intervene and heal Aralyn, but I pray, and pray, and pray that it's while she's on earth. I'm scared. I'm shaken. I'm human. There's nothing else I can do at this point other than leave it in His hands. I'm so thankful God created Aralyn to be a fighter because there are times when I feel so weak. My fears are in His hands, my worries are in His hands, and my baby girl is in His hands. I'm giving it all to you, Lord.