It Is Well

It Is Well With My Soul

Words by Horratio Spafford, Music by Philip Bliss

When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to know,
It is well, it is well with my soul.

(Refrain:) It is well (it is well),
with my soul (with my soul),
It is well, it is well with my soul.

Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ hath regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.
(Refrain)

My sin, oh the bliss of this glorious thought!
My sin, not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to His cross, and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!
(Refrain)

For me, be it Christ, be it Christ hence to live:
If Jordan above me shall roll,
No pain shall be mine, for in death as in life
Thou wilt whisper Thy peace to my soul.
(Refrain)

And Lord haste the day, when my faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,
Even so, it is well with my soul.
(Refrain)

I really enjoy this hymn and especially the simple reminder that whatever trials may come that it is well with my soul and God. Today during our Bible and worship time I decided to mix things up a bit and read the children the history of this hymn and have them listen to it before we sang it together. They were really touched to listen to God's work in the lives of this man and his family. It always encourages my heart to see them respond in such a tender way, especially in the midst of a challenging season here at home.

Right after our prayer time ended the phone rang, but not before a precious child became irritable about that one tricky word: no. This child was taking some time to calm down over being denied something (whatever is the desire of the moment) and we were all praying for God's peace to cover our home, comfort this child, and bring restoration. In the midst of all of this the phone rings. I am terrible about answering the phone because it is like asking for trouble, so I usually just let the answering machine pick it up and return phone calls during "quiet reading" time or after the kids bedtime (or never). The telephone is just not my preferred method of communication. Except today when I had to answer this phone call because it was from the super-specialty doctor of well-known and renown medical institution. This time I had my questions ready and was able to think, ask, and digest the information with a clear mind. Apologies aside, grace upon grace applied, and forgiveness extended, I learned how I could know the diagnosis was the real deal this time, addressed the remaining errors in the report, and moved forward letting the reality of the doctor's words and diagnosis settle on me and my heart.

FASD:ARND

It just felt heavy and immovable - not like delays from trauma or neglect that carry much more of an understood prognosis for improvement over the course of a lifetime. A long lifetime, maybe, but still a potential for improvement. FASD + trauma suddenly seemed like a burden too heavy to carry, though I had an inkling this diagnosis was coming for a time now. Before leaving the privacy of my bedroom I was confronted with the reminder that even in this official diagnosis for our precious child, it is still well with my soul. At that point I had a choice to weep or rejoice...weep for the weight of it all, or rejoice for the answers and having a new starting point we wished we would have had two years ago. Since weeping consumes far too much energy that I reserve for necessary struggles (like carrying large children who are in danger of harming themselves or others) I opted for rejoicing.

By the time I hit the living room I was really feeling like rejoicing when I heard that the previously angry child had calmed and was ready to "talk through" the incident. This is really rare and a blessing. Rejoicing all the way toward that child's bedroom as I was thinking about what a great job everyone did while I was on the phone. No fighting, arguing, screaming, hitting or interrupting. More rejoicing.

And suddenly my oldest daughter says, "Mom, are you ready for some bad news?" Why not, right? Apparently while I was on the phone she heard some sick noises, some really sick noises, like throwing up. It was just our quiet wonder-dog who doesn't make a sound but apparently made a mess (or two) today.

So, singing It Is Well, I cleaned the floor with my oldest daughter and then taught her about how my parents used to encourage me when I had hard and disappointing days growing up. It was a really sweet, though odorous, time together and I found myself rejoicing again for this daughter who has grown to know love in a precious way.

I found the two Littles playing church together taking turns singing worship songs and I worked through the emotions of hearing the word no with another child and then we were back to our school day. I was thankful I had chosen to rejoice and not weep. The weeping would have made each of the other little things so much harder, and the rejoicing made them all so much sweeter.

I'll admit that this diagnosis still needs to settle on my heart and mind, and there is much to consider for my precious child. Please pray that I do not live in fear knowing this diagnosis for my child and its implications for our family, but that I would daily rejoice in the hope of eternity, trusting God's sovereignty and sufficiency for each day, knowing that it is well with my soul.