One Year Later: Keeping My Eyes on Jesus

A year ago today was one of the happiest days of my life. I witnessed the birth of my daughter, Sydney, and in that sacred moment, my world changed forever. At the time, I had no idea just how much my life was about to change. I knew becoming a father would stretch me, shape me, and teach me new things, but I could not have imagined the heights of joy or the depths of fear that would come with loving a child so deeply.

Becoming a father has already given me some of the highest and lowest moments of my life. It has brought laughter, tears, exhaustion, gratitude, fear, wonder, and a kind of love I did not know existed until I held my little girl. And even after everything we have walked through, if I were given the chance to do it all over again, I would gladly choose it.

I can still remember that day as if it is unfolding right before my eyes. I remember the anticipation. I remember the emotion in the room. I remember the moment Sydney arrived. I remember the joy of seeing her for the first time. But I also remember how quickly the atmosphere changed when our little girl was rushed to the NICU.

One moment, we were celebrating her arrival. The next, we were facing words, concerns, and circumstances we were not prepared for.

As days turned into weeks, and weeks felt like months, watching other people arrive at the hospital, give birth, and then go home with their newborns was incredibly hard. I was happy for them, but it hurt. Every time I saw another family leave together, it reminded me that we were still waiting. And when we had to leave the hospital without our little angel, it was even harder.

No parent should ever have to leave the hospital without their child.

There was such a feeling of distance between us. We loved her with everything in us, but we could not take her home. We wanted to hold her, nurture her, protect her, and comfort her, but so much of her care was in the hands of doctors, nurses, machines, tests, and medical decisions. Add to that the fear, anxiety, nervousness, and exhaustion, and we were an emotional hot mess.

People would ask how we were doing, and we would often say, “Fine.” But if I am honest, fine really meant we were freaked out, insecure, neurotic, and emotional. Fine meant we were trying to hold it together. Fine meant we were praying with tears in our eyes. Fine meant we were trusting God while still feeling afraid. Fine meant we were believing, but we were tired.

It was hard to be thankful when all I seemed to be doing was worrying. But somewhere in that season, God began teaching me that worry could not carry me. Fear could not strengthen me. Anxiety could not heal my daughter. Only God could sustain us.

It was only when I began to rely on God completely that I started to rise above my circumstances, even though the circumstances had not yet changed. I held onto Philippians 4:19, “My God will meet all your needs according to the riches of his glory in Christ Jesus.” I had to remind myself that being anxious accomplished nothing. Prayer was where my burden belonged. Prayer was where my fear had to go. Prayer was where I found peace when nothing around me felt peaceful.

When we bring our needs before the Lord, the God of comfort and the God who provides, He gives us peace that transcends understanding. He makes a way where there seems to be no way. He strengthens us when we do not have enough strength left in ourselves.

This past year has continued to test that truth. Living with extreme pain from a vehicle accident that broke my back has made me feel like a prisoner of pain. There have been days when the pain was so constant that it affected everything. It affected how I moved, how I rested, how I served, and even how I held my daughter. One of the hardest parts has been wanting to pick Sydney up and hold her without pain coursing through my body.

But even there, God has been faithful.

I believe He has brought the right surgeon into my path, and I am trusting that God will receive the glory through my healing. I am believing for the day when I can hold my little girl again without pain, when I can enjoy the simple gift of carrying her in my arms without being reminded of what my body has endured.

Walking through seasons full of bittersweet blessings has shown me how easily my human nature tries to take over. There have been times when I tried to think my way out of problems instead of relying on God the way I did one year ago when He carried us through Sydney’s healing journey. God is always with us, but when we constantly dwell on our problems, peace can feel far away. We replay our circumstances over and over in our minds until the problem becomes louder than the promise.

That is why we have to choose where we fix our eyes.

I still remember being new parents and wanting nothing more than to hold and nurture Sydney. Instead, we were signing consent forms for spinal taps and other painful tests. Having her in the NICU was not part of the dream I had envisioned. It was not the beginning I imagined for our family. But even then, I trusted God.

There were days we had no tears left to cry. There were days when our strength felt gone. But as long as I stayed focused on God, who is mighty to save, I could keep going. When I took my eyes off Him, sadness quickly turned into panic, anxiety, and fear.

The longer we were in the NICU, the more I noticed things I had never paid attention to before. One of the first things I learned was how to identify whether someone had a boy or a girl by the color of the parent bracelets, pink or blue. If a parent had multiple ID bracelets, it usually meant they had twins or triplets. Every bracelet told a story. Every parent walking those halls was carrying a burden.

As each day passed, my own bracelet became more and more worn. Eventually, it was so faded that you could barely read Sydney’s name or birthday. But no matter how worn it became, I never wanted to take it off. That bracelet connected me to her. It reminded me that I was her father. It reminded me that I belonged in that room with her. It reminded me that although I could not take her home yet, she was still mine and I was still hers.

One of the saddest things I saw during our time there was a mother who had two bracelets one day, and the next day, when I saw her, she only had one. I later found out that one of her babies had passed away during the night.

I will never forget that.

Moments like that mark you. They remind you how fragile life is, how precious every breath is, and how much we need God’s grace to carry us. No matter how worn my bracelet became, no matter how tired I felt, no matter how beat down I was, I remember being grateful that I still had that bracelet on my wrist.

I can also remember how weak I felt going back and forth to the hospital. That season reminded me of Peter in Matthew 14, when he stepped out of the boat and walked on the water toward Jesus. As long as Peter kept his eyes on Jesus, he was able to do what should have been impossible. But when he looked at the wind and the waves, he began to sink.

That is such a picture of faith.

When we keep our eyes on Jesus, He sustains us. When we focus only on the storm, we begin to sink beneath the weight of fear. The storm may be real, but Jesus is greater. The waves may be high, but His hand is still able to save. The wind may be strong, but His voice is stronger.

The same is true for the problems we face. If we stay focused on God, He will sustain us. But when we look only to our own strength, our own wisdom, or our own ability to control the outcome, we are sure to sink.

I once heard it said that in the natural realm, we exchange money for the things we want and need, but in the spiritual realm, faith is what we exchange. That thought has stayed with me because faith matters deeply to God. Our faith pleases Him. Our faith opens doors no person can open. Our faith keeps us anchored when we are walking through the storm of the century.

When we obey the Word of God and believe His promises are true, our faith grows stronger. And as our faith grows, God is able to do things in us and through us that we never could have imagined.

Looking back over this last year, one thing is abundantly clear: God loves us, and He wants the best for us. That does not mean every season will be easy. It does not mean we will never suffer. It does not mean we will never face pain, uncertainty, or fear. Sometimes the road to God’s best leads through valleys we would have never chosen.

But God is faithful in the valley.

He was faithful in the NICU.

He was faithful in the hospital hallways.

He was faithful when we left without our daughter.

He was faithful when we brought her home.

He has been faithful through pain.

He will be faithful in healing.

He is faithful now.

As long as we keep our eyes fixed on Jesus and trust His plan, it does not matter what the world tries to throw at us. The enemy can bring fear, discouragement, pain, delay, and disappointment, but none of those things have the final word. Jesus does.

I want to encourage you to stop looking to the world for answers that only God can give. Stop looking to temporary things for lasting peace. Stop trying to carry burdens that were never meant for your shoulders. Look to the Great I Am, the One who made the heavens and the earth, the One who formed you, knows you, loves you, and walks with you.

In Him, you will find peace.

In Him, you will find rest.

In Him, you will find comfort.

In Him, you will find strength for today and hope for tomorrow.

God may allow us to walk through more than we can handle on our own, but He will never leave us to handle it alone. He gives just enough strength, mercy, and grace for each new day. And when we cannot walk any farther, He carries us.

One year later, I can look at my daughter and see more than a birthday. I see a testimony. I see answered prayer. I see the faithfulness of God. I see a reminder that even when life does not unfold the way we planned, God is still writing a beautiful story.

Sydney’s life reminds me that miracles still happen.

Her smile reminds me that God restores joy.

Her presence reminds me that prayer matters.

And this past year reminds me that when we keep our eyes on Jesus, even the hardest chapters can become testimonies of His goodness, mercy, and grace.