Tender Hearted

My heart is pretty tender right now.  Annika and I just attended sacrament meeting on the third floor of Primary Children's.  The meeting wasn't long--less than half an hour--but the spirit was so strong in that little auditorium that the tears flowed.  Annika wanted to sit in the front row, but we moved back because there were so many kids who needed the front row seating, whether because they were in wheelchairs or because they were trailing giant IV poles with multiple lines.  Far from being silent, the sacrament prayers were peppered by the beeping of IV pumps.  Two adorable toddlers with VADs (Ventricular Assist Devices) were there, their cardiac pumps trailing behind them on wheeled carts the size of a rolling suitcase.  These kids are so small that you can see their external Berlin hearts dangling past their knees, kind of like in this picture I found online.  Annika's wait for a heart will be much shorter than the wait for these toddlers, mostly because she is tall enough to accept the heart of a small adult.  Toddler hearts don't become available very often, which is mostly a good thing, but it also means that these sick kids wait in the hospital for many months, sometimes even years.

It's funny, but I never expected to be admitted to the hospital for a heart transplant and feel overwhelmed by how fortunate our circumstances.  Whether talking about the proximity of home, Annika's relative health, or Annika's size, we feel extraordinarily blessed.  It's been special to form some connections with families going through similar challenges.  A few days ago Annika met a beautiful Mom who was listening as Talia and I were playing piano.  The Mom asked Annika about the journey that brought her to Primary Children's, and we learned that their newborn son was likewise waiting for a heart.  Yesterday we found out that a donor heart had become available, and the transplant was successful.  When Annika saw this Mom in church today, she ran up to her and gave her the biggest hug.  It was so sweet to witness their special connection and the shared joy.  

There is a lovely meditation room just outside of the cardiac unit featuring a wall of fairy lights and tiny clothespins.  They have little slips of paper for you to pin your hopes and wishes on the wall.  After spending some time meditating and praying in that room, I simply jotted down "The right heart at the right time."   As I pinned it to the wall, I realized that my prayer wasn't just for Annika--it's for every cardiac child waiting anywhere.  

Going back to hospital church, as I sat in that sacred space, I was overwhelmed with this feeling of how much God loves these children.  We are all precious to him, but I believe he he has a special, tender place reserved for these kids who are going through so much.  Tribulation softens hearts, and these tender hearts have been molded to draw close to Him.