A Sweet Baby

Thursday, 20 Dec 2001

We went to another child's service today, and although I have not asked for permission to share what I write tonight, I pray that it will be okay with the parents. They, as we, believe that their little one is safe in Jesus' arms. They want others to know of the hope they have in their hearts of one day being reunited also. It is this Hope that we cling to and want to share!


December 20, 2001 Thursday

I touched her cheek. She was so perfect, lying there so still and so sweet. So quiet. This little baby has gone home now. She is with Phil, spending the rest of this December and eternity in heaven.

Where are the answers? We don't have many, just a few. Hopefully, just enough to keep us satisfied at least in part, until we see them again. Phil always loved children, and he always wanted to get a job. Does he have that job now? Is he working at that Day Care center in heaven, welcoming in the little ones as they arrive? He wanted to open a Day Care center or be a teacher. Is he both now? I feel comfort that he is with this little one. That he was there to welcome her somehow. We don't know how things work in heaven. We don't know what is going on. We don't even know if they miss us until we arrive, but we suspect not. How could they? Then there might be a tear, but there are no tears in heaven.

Maybe they understand so much that even though they are awaiting our arrival, they are filled with total peace, seeing the full picture. The picture from here is foggy, clouded with grief and sadness. There are some answers as to why Phil is there, and there is relief that his suffering is finished. But a small baby, healthy and just napping, suddenly gone home? Where is the answer in that? God knows, and God will show us the way through this fog.

Such a sad day, but once again, I find great peace this evening. I came home to rest on the couch, to sleep a bit, feeling an overwhelming peace. These children are together, in the beginning of their eternity. We are here; somewhere in the beginning of our missing them and finding out our way through this sadness. We weep, and we grieve, and we miss them so, so much.

God knows that. He sees our tears; He may weep with us, as He must have done on the day His Son died. He saw His Son’s lifeless body as it hung on the cross, as it was buried in the tomb. He saw the shell that was left, the coldness that begin to fill his body, the burial procedures, the weeping family, His mother, His friends, and He saw the resurrection of that Child three days later. The One that conquered death and gave us all the hope that we now cling to.

What joy that must have given Him to finally say, "It is finished" from heaven also. It is finished... the sorrow will not last forever, the pain will pass away, the missing will be gone when we are reunited for eternity. What joy! The same joy we should feel deep inside. The joy that Christmas holds. The birth of our Savior. The Savior of the world! Come, all ye faithful, and He will give you rest.

I know that rest, what it is to be in it, and what it is to be out of it. What a difference Christ makes in our lives. What a difference every day, but what a huge, spectacular, all-encompassing difference He makes when we need Him most. When we are so filled with sorrow that He is the only one who can lift us up out of the muck and mire. What a gift He gives us every day when we open our hearts to all that He is doing to ease our burdens.

Sometimes I think it must take the lowest point in our lives before we really open our eyes to Him. To really appreciate what He is offering us in the way of help, of encouragement, and of peace. To me, this year, the Prince of Peace means so much more than at any other time in my life. I need that peace above all else, for without it; life is a tangled mess of feelings that tie into a knot of emotional destruction. One that twists and binds my insides until I think I can stand it no more. I look for that peace, I crave that peace, and I find that peace only with my Savior and time with Him.

Tonight, when I felt that peace, I could do nothing but keep thanking God for it, over and over again. Where else would that kind of peace come from on a day such as this? Only from a loving God, who cares for us and sees our pain. I am truly grateful.

Tomorrow will be a new day with new thoughts, new emotions to work through, a new day to continue the healing process that has only just begun, but I know that when I find my greatest peace on the very worst of days, there is hope for all the days I will live on this earth.

God is with us, closer than we can imagine, ready to help us through everything we must face. If we will only look to Him, seek Him and ask Him for all that we need, it is then we will be comforted in our greatest times of need. I am finding that to be so, more and more and more. He never leaves us or forsakes us, He simply wants us to ask, and then we shall receive.

Good night little one, good night Phil. You are both greatly missed, because you are both greatly loved. As the song said today, "It hurts so much to let you go, but we’re so glad you came."

"...'Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.' And he took the children in his arms, put his hands on them and blessed them."
Mark 10:14b-16