Yesterday afternoon, I received an email from the editor at Discovery House Publishers. They want to publish my proposed book A Different Dream for My Child: Meditations for Parents of Critically and Chronically Ill Children.
After waiting so long to hear about the proposal, the news doesn’t seem real. When Allen was born and quickly flown to the University of Nebraska hospital in Omaha, that didn’t seem real either. But it was.
When Hiram and I first saw Allen after his surgery, all I could do was cry. Our baby bristled with tubes and monitors. His tiny hands covered his ears as if he wanted to shut out the painful world he’d entered. “This isn’t the dream I had for my child,” I told God. “Why are you doing this?”
Over the years, as God has worked in our lives, He’s revealed bits of His reasons. Yesterday, He revealed a little bit more. My husband and healthy twenty-six-year-old son were as excited about the news as I was. It’s much different from the dream I thought I wanted. But it’s a good one.
That’s why I’ll write this book. So devastated parents will place their hope in God’s dream for their children. So they can trust His dream, though different from their own, to be good.
