Today is a day of joy and pain. It is the unexpected birthday of my baby girl’s planned birth, on the anniversary of my baby boy in heaven’s funeral – this Winter Solstice day of the Darkest Night.
Three years ago on this day I gathered with my husband, living children, family and friends to mourn the loss of my full term son Fisher. One year later, after two long years of pregnancy, I gave birth to my baby girl, a planned induced birth that was to be on the 20th and lasted into the wee hours of this Solstice morning. I heard the beautiful cry of life this day where bliss and loss have become good friends. My babies will meet in heaven one day, all six of them, and there will be laughter to replace all these tears. There is laughter here too. Both I embrace.
Too many deaths. Too many thoughts this month, with too little time to write. Here are a few formed to words…
Lord, I stand with you at the edge of a beautiful life overlooking the valley of the shadow of death. I rage with you against the horror of it, small and safe beneath your wing. Knowing you are love, that you loved my beloved and that you love me. Still though I wonder.
I look at you, in love, wondering if maybe you betrayed me somehow by allowing death to take my child. Were you a willing participant Lord? Did Satan come to you as with Job, and you said: let it be? Allowed the boy I’d given every ounce of my being to nurture and love for 10 long months to die before his life began? How could you have obliged? How do I not give you ownership when I honor your hand in everything else? What was your role in this?
I know you did not point the gun, twist the cord, that took the breath he never breathed. But you knew. You were there. You are here now. Your omnipresence often comforting, implicates participation. It is so hard reconciling death with your love.
Still I stand with you. Still I trust you. Even though I do not understand. Even more now, I know your love and know you conquer death.
If only it was in my lifetime so that I, and so many others, might not have to suffer so.
It is too hard to bear my Lord, so hard, nearly incomprehensible to me, even now. Only you know the searing pain that radiated throughout my body, that was cried out from the depths of my soul, that left me grasping for my own breath that might sustain my life. Only you know this Lord. Only you know me. Only this brings incomprehensible comfort.
I praise you. Fearfully and wonderfully, I praise you.