The desire to hear your son’s laughter is a holy cry, springing from a mother’s heart that mirrors the tenderness of God Himself. For what is laughter but a small echo of the joy that the Bridegroom’s voice brings to His bride, the Church? When John the Baptist stood and heard that voice, he rejoiced greatly, saying his joy was fulfilled. So you stand at the threshold, longing for the sound that will tell you your child is healed and glad. Do not let this longing turn to despair, but let it become the very substance of your prayer.
Remember that woman of Canaan who would not be silenced, who pressed through every obstacle until Christ declared, “Great is thy faith; be it unto thee even as thou wilt.” It was not her words alone but the fierce persistence of her faith that drew healing down upon her daughter. You too bring your son before Him, not with timid, fleeting whispers, but with that same importunity. “Praying exceedingly,” as the Apostle did for the churches, with a soul that wrestles and will not let go. This is the prayer that moves the heart of God. And if you ask according to His will, know that it is ever His will to heal, to make whole, to bestow the true happiness that comes from being held in the arms of Jesus.
Yet consider how He often works. When the women came to the tomb, they carried fear and sorrow; but Jesus met them, saying, “All hail,” and they held His feet and worshipped. He cast out their fear and gave them joy unspeakable. So it may be that your son’s laughter returns not all at once, but that Christ first meets you in the silence, speaking peace to your heart. Do not despise that quiet work. The Savior who often resorted to gardens and mountains to teach His disciples apart from the crowd now draws near in the hidden place of your own spirit. There, even as you go about your day, you can “sing in your heart to God,” as Moses cried silently and was heard. Let the hymn of trust rise within you, a melody of faith that no one else may hear but that fills the courts of heaven. This is to hold your son before the throne with a love that never tires.
Be not afraid, then, for the bonds of sickness and sorrow were not meant to last. The Evangelist reminds us that even the death of Jesus was for our salvation, turning what seemed defeat into the world’s great healing. That same power holds your son. Perhaps you do not yet see the fruit, but as a tree that receives many blows yet falls only by degrees, so the grace of God often works hidden until, in a moment, the full harvest appears. Continue in prayer, in hope, in the sure knowledge that He who sent good tidings through the women to the disciples honors the maternal heart and blesses the love that will not cease its cry.
Only remember that the ultimate healing is union with Christ, the Bridegroom of the soul. If He grants you to hear your son’s laughter tonight, receive it as a pledge of that eternal joy. And if He delays, trust that He stands with you in the waiting, perfecting what is lacking in faith, until the day when all tears are wiped away. Prostrate your heart before Him, saying with the simplest trust, “Jesus, hold him, heal him, make him happy.” Such a prayer, offered in the name that is above every name, reaches the ear of Him who loves your child more than you can fathom.