My throat was parched, so I set down my rake and went inside for a cool drink. It was a nice autumn day, and we kids were in charge of raking up the pine needles blanketing our yard. I sipped down my water and nervously looked at the clock in the kitchen. It seemed like forever since Mom and Dad had left for the ultrasound. What was taking them so long? Then a haunting thought sunk my heart. This baby is dead.
My parents finally pulled into the driveway, and I dreaded the words they would say when the entered. Something in me told me I was right. All I wanted to do was run and keep them from telling me the news.
Dad called us into the living room, and two-year-old Lisa climbed onto Mom's lap, smiling at the baby hidden in her belly. It was now only a couple weeks until the baby's due date. Mom sat next to us kids, while dad told us. I don't remember the exact words he used, but I remember all of us sobbing. I buried my head in my arms, too afraid to look up.
Why again, God? Wasn't one time enough? Why us?
The next morning was full of soccer, volleyball, and football games. None of us felt like playing, but we did anyway. My mind was consumed with thoughts of my brother, and my heart cried as I tried to play the sport that used to be fun.
We spent the night at our cousins' house and went to church the next morning, hearing that our brother, Thomas Scott, had been born during the night and we'd get to see him after church. All morning I dreaded going to the hospital...
Thomas was wrapped loosely in a soft blanket, with a yellow hat covering his dark hair . His eyes were shut. His lips were bright red. And his hands were cold.
We took turns holding him and posed for a few pictures, but the time with him was far too short. Before I knew it, it was time for us to say goodbye and go home. I stood in front of my mom, who sat on the hospital couch holding Thomas. I looked at him as long as I could, before I left the room. Then the only words I remember hearing that day were said. "Give Thomas a kiss goodbye."
With those words, the floodgates let loose once more and tears flowed freely. I knelt over him and kissed his silky forehead. It was the first and last kiss I ever gave him. One that I will never forget...
Thomas would be eight now. He'd be running around doing what all boys do. We celebrated his birthday this week by looking through his keepsake box, feeling the blankets that had held him, and looking at pictures of his precious face. At church, the weekend he was born, a book was passed around the congregation for people to write in. This week I read through many of the letters from old and dear friends of ours in the church. At the end of one note it said, "God does still love you!"
I started to cry, thinking back on how doubtful I had been of God's love in the midst of my grief. I was blinded by sorrow and bitterness, when all the while, God's love was constant. He never once let go of us but held us safe in His unfailing love. Not even death can separate us from Him.
"For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord."
My parents finally pulled into the driveway, and I dreaded the words they would say when the entered. Something in me told me I was right. All I wanted to do was run and keep them from telling me the news.
Dad called us into the living room, and two-year-old Lisa climbed onto Mom's lap, smiling at the baby hidden in her belly. It was now only a couple weeks until the baby's due date. Mom sat next to us kids, while dad told us. I don't remember the exact words he used, but I remember all of us sobbing. I buried my head in my arms, too afraid to look up.
Why again, God? Wasn't one time enough? Why us?
The next morning was full of soccer, volleyball, and football games. None of us felt like playing, but we did anyway. My mind was consumed with thoughts of my brother, and my heart cried as I tried to play the sport that used to be fun.
We spent the night at our cousins' house and went to church the next morning, hearing that our brother, Thomas Scott, had been born during the night and we'd get to see him after church. All morning I dreaded going to the hospital...
Thomas was wrapped loosely in a soft blanket, with a yellow hat covering his dark hair . His eyes were shut. His lips were bright red. And his hands were cold.
We took turns holding him and posed for a few pictures, but the time with him was far too short. Before I knew it, it was time for us to say goodbye and go home. I stood in front of my mom, who sat on the hospital couch holding Thomas. I looked at him as long as I could, before I left the room. Then the only words I remember hearing that day were said. "Give Thomas a kiss goodbye."
With those words, the floodgates let loose once more and tears flowed freely. I knelt over him and kissed his silky forehead. It was the first and last kiss I ever gave him. One that I will never forget...
Thomas would be eight now. He'd be running around doing what all boys do. We celebrated his birthday this week by looking through his keepsake box, feeling the blankets that had held him, and looking at pictures of his precious face. At church, the weekend he was born, a book was passed around the congregation for people to write in. This week I read through many of the letters from old and dear friends of ours in the church. At the end of one note it said, "God does still love you!"
I started to cry, thinking back on how doubtful I had been of God's love in the midst of my grief. I was blinded by sorrow and bitterness, when all the while, God's love was constant. He never once let go of us but held us safe in His unfailing love. Not even death can separate us from Him.
"For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord."
2 messages:
I too had to say goodbye to my baby brother a few years ago. I liked reading what you wrote about it...
I can relate...Several years ago my mom miscarried. We don't know if it was a boy or a girl, my parents didn't want to know before the birth. They did it the same way with my older sister and I. Instead, they give the baby a generic name to use during the pregnancy, which later becomes a nickname. We decided on Linus from the Peanuts. It was a few months into the pregnancy when Mom miscarried.
THanks for posting....
Post a Comment