“Good. I’ll let my team know, then.”

When the doctor was gone, Jimmy sat on the bed. “Hey, this is all going to work out. God knew this was going to happen.”

“I know, but why is He letting this happen to me? I mean, Dad, my team is counting on me to compete in the finals. And what about college?”

“Honey, I’m so sorry,” Susan said, her hand on David’s chest. “If I could, I would make it all go away.”

“I just don’t understand.”

“You know what?” Susan said. “I was angry with God for a long time after John and Michael died. But if that hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t have had you. And I cannot imagine my life without you.”

“David, you’re strong. And you’re going to be fine with or without wrestling.”

David looked at the ceiling and sighed.

Susan wandered into the hall and walked around the corner, nervously pulling her sweater sleeve over her hand. People walked past her, oblivious to her pain, and she felt so alone. She put her purse on the floor, then wrapped her sweater around her and crossed her arms, the emotion welling.

She had heard a phrase thrown around by well-meaning people, including once at a Bible study. Someone said to a friend who had just lost a job, “God doesn’t give you more than you can handle.” It had seemed cruel to her at the time, but the words seemed to buoy the newly unemployed friend, so Susan kept quiet.

Now, as she stood around the corner from the hospital room that held the son she loved more than life itself, she knew she had been given more than she could handle. And that was the point of every struggle, every trial—to admit her inability to handle life in her own strength, in her own power. This was an opportunity to lean on a power greater than her own.

I don’t want to lose him, Lord, she prayed silently. I don’t want to see him go through this pain. I would rather have it myself. And I don’t know if this surgery is the answer. The doctor thinks it is, but I’m scared.

It felt like Gethsemane. And she knew she had to get to the point where it was not her will but His she chose.

“I know this is a chance to trust You and not myself. Not lean on my understanding. But I’m so scared. And I can’t make sense of this. I can’t understand what You’re doing. Help me.”