rara avis

Trading her nest
of taffeta and tulle,
laying her buzzed and peach-fuzzed head
on crisp linen
hospital corners.

And pinned to a gurney by a tangle of tubes
carrying a slowly dripping chemo cocktail,
pried open by a surgeon's scalpel,
as it probes for cancer
in her fragile frame.  

She rises, a bubble
of effervescence, to the top of the glass,
and wonder, marvel,
nonpareil, she dances
on the tips of angel's prayers. 

Liz McFadzean

Photo by David McFadzean

Ten years old, Ava will undergo surgery at St. Jude’s Hospital this Friday.  Please pray that doctors are able to remove all the cancer from her body in any little places it may have tried to hide, by this surgery and by any future chemo sessions required. 

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about God’s compensating gifts.  I don’t think God designs our tragedies, distress or disasters.  These are manifestations of the brokenness that sin and disease have unleashed on the world.  But I do believe that God always provides a compensating gift.  In Ava’s little life the gifts are legions of friends and community that have poured out love in fundraisers and celebrations, lining the street on the night of her return home from her first grueling months at St. Jude’s.  There is the cohesion of family coming together after healed rifts and betrayals. There is love in the stadium where a women’s college soccer team adopts her and champions her as their hero.  And there is dancing in a beautiful dress at her uncle's wedding. 

Would Ava or her family choose cancer?  Never. Would God choose cancer for Ava? Never.  But would our great and glorious God provide so much prayer support that it carries a ten-year-old girl and her family through the worst year of their lives?  Absolutely. Compensating gifts.  Redemption.  Regeneration.  That is the business that God Almighty is in.

To follow Ava’s journey go to <avafierceandbrave.blogspot.com>