Thursday, October 16, 2008

Pain and Miracles

Trying to figure this out because I can't wrap my mind around it. I cannot figure out what I did that God should smile on me with such favor.
Today I went to funeral for a baby that was born premature.
My baby was born premature.
Little Anthony was born three months premature.
My baby was born three months premature.
Little Anthony was loved and wanted.
My baby was loved and wanted.
Little Anthony didn't make it.
My baby did.
To be in a room with a casket holding a child is a horrible, horrible thing. To be in a room with a casket holding a child whose every breath was a struggle is undescribable. To look on that child and see the unbelievable resemblence to your own is a revelation that levels your heart. The same tiny nose, the same perfectly formed hands, the minute puckered lips, preemies are kind of a species within a species, physical resemblances but no two are truly alike.
When my son came three months early, it never occurred to me that he wouldn't live. It never occurred to me that I wouldn't get to hold his tired six-year-old face in my hands on a cold October night and kiss his upturned nose.
It occurred to me today, for the first time in six years.
Little Anthony was a fighter, but I believe that our God is a jealous God, and I believe that there was a sweetness in Anthony that God and heaven couldn't do without. Not that He made a mistake...I believe it's more like a parent who sends their child to summer camp, looking forward to the quiet, and then three days later finds themselves inventing reasons to bring them home.
Heaven wasn't quite the same, maybe, until Anthony went home.
Where is the justice in that for the people left on earth? But then again I wonder, where is it ever written that we are to expect justice? No, it isn't fair. Yes, it is painful. But the joy surrounding that little baby boy, who never spoke a word, never performed a deed, that joy will last forever - that joy is immortal. So is that the trade off that we need to seek out? Do we need to stop looking for the justice and just start accepting the joy, even the tiny little pieces of it that seem to come too late and are gone too soon?
I wish I knew the answer. I tried to find it all day today. I tried to find it as I watched the sun bounce off the red hair of my little miracle. I tried to find it as I watched that same sun illuminate the tears on the faces of the those who loved Little Anthony.
I didn't find it. I didn't find the justice. And I am struggling to find the joy. But the difference is that the joy will be so much easier to find than the justice.

5 comments:

Melinda said...

Hang in there. I am completely convinced there are some things we simply won;t figure out this side of Heaven. How's the family getting along?

Anonymous said...

They are okay...struggling to understand, of course. I completely lost it at the funeral. I had been trying to let them know what was coming when it came to his development and then when he took a turn for the worse, I didn't know what to say or do. I was completely lost, Melinda. And now, I almost feel guilty for Kyser having been as healthy as he was...Is that crazy?

Anonymous said...

When I told Sam about Katey he started to cry of course, but when I told him that she got to be in Heaven with Jesus he looked at me with this amazing awe struck look and simply said "cool!" We have no idea how perfect Heaven is, God has made it just for us.
I understand the guilt, I felt the same way after Katey died. But we never know what is going to happen in life. We have to KNOW not just trust but KNOW that God has it under control and we don't have to understand it because he does.

Melinda said...

No, it's not completely crazy. When Mike's sister died from an aneurysm I kept asking God why he chose to take her when she still had a preschooler and other young kids to raise and was actively serving Him. Meanwhile, he's allowed my sister to have an aneurysm that has self healed. It takes a long time to get past the stage of feeling badly for the good in life. Hang tight and I'll keep praying for all of you.

Anonymous said...

Your blog really got to me & helped me too. As you know our daughter Katey was born at 27weeks & was doing fine, then on day 13 she started to go down hill. I guess I can see things a little more clearly now (18 months later) & know that she was never truly ours, she was just "on loan" to us from God. I still miss her greatly, but know that she is in heaven & is at peace. I know it will seem like only a moment to her & we'll see each other again. I can't wait to see her smiling face again!
Thanks again Jami! You have such a way with words!