Eleven

< Repost from 2006 >

 

Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.

1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

 

 

Dearest Will,

I write this that I may know you; that I may explore you. Mommy feels you every day now in her tummy. Writing to you has helped me feel you better myself. I will write to you all the days of my life, and only wish you could sit on my lap to listen to your Daddy’s silly thoughts. I give you now the first few pages.

Along with a constant request for peace, Mommy continues to also pray for a miracle if that is what God has in store. Mommy has tremendous faith, never underestimates God, is great about ‘not putting God in a box,’ and wouldn’t be surprised in the least if you jumped out of that womb you’re in and did a dynamite cartwheel across the room. Daddy is a Christian, but also a scientist, and so I pray for miracles all the time, but struggle with risking too much, for fear of being hurt or disappointed or just wrong. Daddy wants you to be just fine—better than fine, to be like your big sister Lauren, and I certainly know this is well within God’s boundless abilities—but I will likely continue to pray for the best and prepare for the worst. I think many, if not most Mommies and Daddies are like us in these respects.

Either way, you’re a miracle now. And that’s so much more than enough for both of us.

God bless you, Son.

Daddy

***

 

Five months of thankfulness, excitement, and daydreaming

Your being was an answer to prayer

We envisioned all the days of your life, even praying for your spouse

Knowing you’d complete our family, we were so very content

 

We envisioned the little things… Daddy couldn’t wait for you to try Mommy’s red cake

Mommy couldn’t wait for you to distract Lauren

Grandparents were poised to strike—and spoil you

Cousins were scheming for sleepovers and shopping sprees

 

Lauren was elated—in her mind, you were always a sister—

She had many adventures in store for you, and couldn’t wait to play dress-up, pillow-fight, or cuddle before the tv screen with popcorn and apple juice in hand

You would be her best friend, a listening ear, lifetime co-conspirator and confidante

The two of you would somersault all over one another, and sprint and squeal… bare feet padding around the kitchen

And you’d chase butterflies among the flowers

Lauren loves butterflies, because they’re beautiful and zippy

Daddy loves butterflies, because they are reminders of beauty emerging from darkness

 

But Mommy—(in fact, everyone)—said you were a BOY… and everyone was right

But I’m getting ahead of myself…

 

At your twentieth week, everything changed in an instant

Lauren in tow (dressed to the nines)

Camera in hand

It was “gender day”—and palpable excitement filled the air as we entered the Doctor’s office

 

Quietly, carefully, introspectively… Dr. Riegel studied you

Whispering in Lauren’s ear, “It’s a sister.…”

We would learn later he was wrong about THAT

But for the time, Lauren was elated

“It’s a SISTER!” she shouted

 

Though the Doctor was wrong about the gender, he was right about the rest

In a serious and saddened tone we hadn’t anticipated, he gently spoke implication-rich words we hadn’t heard before—Gastroschisis, Omphalocele, Trisomy

The room blurred and spun

Mommy and Daddy were faint

A referral was scheduled to see a Man who might know more

 

Lauren was aloof

 

As your sister hopped to the car, Mommy and Daddy stumbled

 

Two days until Thanksgiving, and a sucker punch to the gut and an uppercut to the chin

 

Back home, dear Will, Mommy and Daddy in separate rooms… keyboards clicked and clacked

Mouses roared

Research occurred

Best case, worst case, likely case

 

OPTIMISM

PRAYER

HUGGING

REALISM

TEARS

SILENCE

DARKNESS FELL

 

The remaining days of your life imagined—so many possible outcomes

The remaining days of our lives imagined—everything lost

What of our plans… What of Lauren… What of your existence…

 

Time to process

Come to terms

Get a grip

Turn it all over to God

 

SIX ANGUISHING DAYS LATER

 

Someone watches your sister as Mommy and Daddy go seek answers

We see the Man, Dr. Albert

He is very patient, and kind

Careful, deliberate, thorough

For a very long hour, he looks at you—all of you

Mommy and Daddy peek through a pixelated veil and fully absorb your earthen brokenness

The full sum of it is incomprehensible

 

Belly, Brain, Heart, Hands… Chromosomes—the very slab of your foundation

Beyond expectation, beyond explanation

 

Beyond repair by Dr. Albert or any of his friends

In four more months, you will be born in Heaven—or become God’s Will within moments after being born

 

We left the Doctor’s office shaking

Crying

Hugging and Walking at the same time

Beyond denial, beyond anger, beyond bargaining

No depression… only heartbreak

Heartbreak for you

For your life and what we thought was supposed to be

For our plans and hopes and dreams and aspirations for your life

 

But God is grace

And by removing all concepts of “healing” and “miracles” and “life saving surgeries” and “therapies” and “ifs…”

Mommy and Daddy are left with no illusions

With no deals

With no alternatives

With no sums of money that can be raised to solve this

 

With no savior Doctor to be found here on Earth

We are constantly in conversation with the Master Physician

 

And peace floats in like fog under the door

 

And yes, it certainly transcends understanding

 

And yes, it is mostly constant

 

But not always

 

Each day has its share of moments

Of slips

Of darkness

Of all-consuming sadness that embraces Mommy and Daddy

But we struggle and break free

Through prayer

Through laughter

Through phone calls and e-mails

Through the smiles of friends and strangers

Through people—many of them strangers who melt into friends—they see Mommy sad and ask, “May I pray with you?”

Through men who see Daddy coming down the hall and twist a shallow handshake into a full-blown, pin him down HUG

 

But little Will, this is not about Mommy and Daddy

The curiosity… the awkwardness… the tragedy—do not warrant attention on us

And yes, little Will—as special and wonderful and loved as you are by so many… this is not about you, either, my Son

It’s bigger

It’s universal

It’s humanity… and eternity… and one of so many signposts

 

My personal epiphany… that while each person’s grief may be unique, our collective pain is universal

This year alone, there will be another one-hundred-and-twenty-five infants with your circumstances in this country

And hundreds and thousands who have conditions at birth that are even worse

And looking around the world, Mommy and Daddy see Billions (not millions) of people who have it very bad indeed

Mommies and Daddies who have no hope or who have lost too much to feel anything but bitterness or grief

Men and Women who desperately want to be Mommies and Daddies yet cannot

Babies who have no Mommies or Daddies

Children who suffer under the hands of those who live in Darkness

Children who lose their way or never grow up because no one showed them where to go or how to get there

Children and Mommies and Daddies and Men and Women who struggle each day because their bodies or minds have somehow failed them or been hurt badly in an accident

Babies whose bellies are bloated by emptiness

Innocents who deserve salt and light, yet are fed a daily ration of hatred, resentment, evil, or outright ignorance

Families who survive… never living… and who do not see the Sun

So many stories of misery, Will, that we can neither imagine nor comprehend them all

We cannot, in our own arrogance or ignorance or independence or frailty, make much sense of them at all

But be happy and hopeful, because our little family, dear Will, is going to be okay

 

We have the answer that works

We have Jesus

And we have food

And we have shelter

And we have friends, and family, and even strangers who support us

And however limited, we have answers, and instruments, and some knowledge…

 

But more importantly, we have faith

And hope

And so much love it cannot be contained

It cannot be measured

It cannot, however vivid one’s mind, be imagined until it is seen

And felt

It is palpable

It is sweet

It is, in some moments, the majority of what we have left to comfort our little family—

To cover ourselves like a blanket that is heavy and welcomed

This love is all that matters

All that ever did, or ever should, or ever will

Or ever can

 

And you—well, you know how much love this is—

Because you have Jesus too

He’s right there with you

He was there when we took the camera

He was in the darkened room with Dr. Albert

 

And He was in places Mommy and Daddy never thought of—

He was here before Forever and Always

He was there when Mommy and Daddy “planned” for you

He was with us when we prayed as a family of three expecting a fourth

He was there when we prayed fervently for your health rather than a gender

He was cradling you, week after week as Mommy and Daddy were happy, and hopeful, and ignorantly blissful

He was in Lauren’s eyes as she believed, “It’s a sister.”

He was even with you as your body failed to become what it must in order to be what the Doctors call “compatible with life”

He was with Mommy and Daddy in the many spinning rooms and silent car rides to and fro

And in the kitchen, as we stared out the back windows at the dying grass… the lawn which, just days earlier, we had imagined you running across to chase your sister with a water hose

And God was with us in the darkness of night

And in the quiet bed that accompanied our understanding of your conditions

And in the mourning that still sometimes perforates our peace

 

But fortunately, there is Sun

And a Son

And a Son

As darkness succumbs to Sunlight

Our mourning succumbs to joy

As God lost His dear Son—gave Him… fully, knowingly, lovingly

We will lose you too, dear Will

 

And for what?

 

Ah, that is the inexplicable joy

Yes, sometimes the joy is beneath the tears and sadness

But there is no refuge here for anger, bitterness, resentment, or what if ’ing

Mommy and Daddy have no room in their hearts for these

Our hearts are already full

Overflowing

There is the deepest current that runs well below the surface

It is calm, and steady, and strong… and warm

And it fills our hearts so forcefully that sometimes we almost cannot breathe

 

This joy is not trite

It is not trivial

It is not transient

 

Its source is Jesus, whom you know all too well—and have, for all your life

It feeds the masses who thirst

It satiates

 

And Will, how it flows

It flows to places we cannot fathom

It fills the voids we do not see

That we do not know

It encompasses the hearts that would otherwise pump shallowly, if at all

 

And wondrously, its abundance knows no end

The more who thirst, the stronger it grows

The more who pray, the faster it flows

 

You’ll know this better than we, for you’ll be with Him eye-to-eye sooner

But so many people have prayed, are praying, will be praying for you

Not dozens, not hundreds, but THOUSANDS

 

Family who know your story all too well

Friends, whose ice cream and cookies and flowers and cards populate our freezer and adorn our home

Neighbors and Pastors and Acquaintances and Clients and Sorority Sisters and Fraternity Brothers and Contractors and Landscapers and Builders and CPAs and Financial Planners and Lawyers and Colleagues and Oil Men and blue haired grandmas and long-lost relatives and the Mailman and the Computer man and the UPS man who brings so many boxes lately…

And elder boards, and deacons, and kind men and women in roles we can no longer recall

And young boys and girls on the brink of knowingness; of understanding the many new words their Mommies and Daddies whisper about the Leaths and their little unborn son

And entire Churches

 

And as I write this today, you are still just 22 weeks old—Thanksgiving has come now, Christmas is coming soon, and Easter won’t be far behind them

 

And God is not finished

 

Sure, He’s not “just getting started,” but He is most definitely NOT FINISHED

 

He will do what He has intended to do all along—

Before Mommy and Daddy were where you are now

Before Daddy saw Mommy sixteen years ago

Before we saw our wailing Lauren eye-to-eye and held her and counted her toes with our fingers for the very first time

We are reminded, dear Will, that God is perfect

What God does is perfect

You are perfect

These skins we wear to cover our parts, these parts we carry to run our pipes, these pipes that busy themselves to fill bags and filters

They are for Earth

We’ll shed them, some of us sooner than later—but for most, long after they’re wrinkled and stretchy and saggy and baggy… or too tight to house all the meals we’ve had

But for you, Son, God has other plans

 

Not better, not worse, just different

You are certainly among a minority, and among a chosen few whom He calls to His lap sooner than we’d wish

 

As I see it, Heaven needs children too

There’s only so far that gold streets can take a person

And all the rooms in the greatest of mansions delight the senses for only so long

Noah and Abraham and Sarah and Ruth and David and Joseph and Mary and Peter and Paul and the hundreds of others we’ve learned from or honored…

They welcome the laughter of newborn children in Heaven too

They relish the forthcoming pitter patter of feet and the gleeful squeals and squawks, as we all do

 

And then there’s Papa

Well… he always wanted a grandson

And now that we’ve lost Papa early too… things make a bit more sense

We’re certain that Papa will be sad for Mommy and Daddy, but tickled pink to have you on his team

Papa was a ballplayer, and Daddy is not… so you’ll now play catch with a partner you deserve

 

And you’ll see lots of other people Mommy and Daddy have heard about, but never met

More family, famous people, funny people, young people, old people, silly people, serious people

But they’ll all be joyful people

And you’ll look like they do

There’ll be no need for that little body of yours—and they will have discarded theirs long ago

In Heaven, you’ll be able to run and throw and jump and tumble and swim like Tom Sawyer or an Olympian

And hug and belly-laugh and chortle and snort like old people

And eat great meals at cozy tables with people who love you so much, it’ll be hard for you to catch your breath

 

Best of all, you’ll be with Jesus and his Daddy—“God”

I won’t embarrass myself trying to explain all the background or their relationship

Instead, just ask anyone else there—they can tell you

You can get it “straight from the source” as they say

 

And while you’re there, playing with the angels and learning

Keep an eye on your big sister (she’s still really little)

And watch Mommy and Daddy

And all the others who pray… or who want to

Or who will learn to

Or who want to believe in God but simply can’t bring themselves to do so

Or who used to believe in God, but having lost their own Will, have lost their way

Or who would seek God if only their own will wasn’t in the way…

But, if I may ask, pray particularly strongly for Mommy and Lauren

Mommy will have a scar, and I’ll want her to remember your beauty more often than her pain

And Lauren is still so young, we’re just not always sure of the best ways to explain things and answer her many questions

We still have difficulty explaining wind and chicken and The Sound of Music… leaving us at an even greater loss explaining births in Heaven

 

This Spring, when the grass and trees and flowers wake up, Mommy and Daddy and Lauren will be planting a Laurel tree on the back lawn, to acknowledge our little girl and all she means to us

And we’ll be planting something in a special place for you too, Son

We’re not sure what, just yet—but it will definitely be beautiful, and we hope you’re still with us in Mommy’s tummy when we go outside to find that perfect spot

Either way, you’ll see it, come Summer, and it’ll really pop in the warm air and light

 

We will see you so very soon in your permanent new home, and in all your radiant, breathtaking glory

 

We love you so much, sweet boy, and can’t wait to throw our arms around you in what will surely be one of the tightest hugs on record

And to tickle you so hard you make funny noises

And to throw you high above our heads while you laugh and scream

And to get a special, personal tour of Heaven as your little hands embrace ours and tug us to see your favorite hiding places, and to meet your friends and teachers, and to taste your favorite foods, and to see your bedroom or wherever you greet the dawn

And to go where you frolic in streams or lakes or oceans

And to see where you pray, and where you record your thoughts, and where you sit in meadows on mountaintops strewn with wildflowers and cattails as breezes kiss your sweaty red cheeks

And… as much as anything, dear Will, be ready—because Daddy and Mommy, and one day little Lauren too, will definitely want you to show us the special spot where you go to chase those beautiful, zippy butterflies

***

 

Postscript

Our dear Will went to chase those zippy butterflies on January 4, 2006—one month after this Love Letter was written.

God is merciful and full of grace.

I write to Will every day, sometimes in my mind, often in my prayers, and always in my heart.

One day, when the constancy of my sorrow is fully supplanted by God’s tender mercy and restoration, I hope to write to Will again on paper, that his memory will become flesh in our lives and the life of Lauren.

 

Spring is coming soon

 

 

 

Mother's Day // May 14, 2006 // Dawn Leath

 

I would like to tell you about the most beautiful place I have ever been. It is not beautiful because of its landscape or scenery, but because of what it provides and what it allows me to be. Safe, secure and strong. However, this place is not without troubles or sadness. But by residing in this place, I am given all the tools I need not just to get through difficult situations, but to get through triumphantly. This beautiful place is in the majestic palm of God’s own hand.

John 10:27-29 says, "My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish; no one can snatch them out of my hand. My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all; no one can snatch them out of my Father’s hand."

I did some research on the word “palm” and found that the palm tree leaf was named for resembling the palm of the hand. The palm tree’s branches are a symbol of victory and the tree is described as “flourishing and upright, attracting the eye wherever it is seen.” So it is with the palm of God’s hand. This is the only place where true victory can be found. It is a place to flourish and stand firm and upright—attracting those around to the glory only he is worthy of.

Some of you are familiar with the events our family has gone through over the past few months... but few of you may know the other side of our story. At first hearing about the details, one might draw the conclusion that our story had a sad ending, but in fact, I would like to share with you the overwhelming joy and comfort that God has provided to our family through­out this situation as he has cradled us in the palm of His hand. First, just a little background…

My husband, Blake and I have been married for 13 years and we have a daughter, Lauren that is 3 ½. We found out we were pregnant with our second child in August of this past year. We were so excited and looking forward to having another baby after what seemed like such a long wait. As my pregnancy progressed, the familiar signs returned—nausea, fatigue, de­creased appetite—signs I translated into assurances that every­thing was fine. However, at 20 weeks, during our visit to my OB to find out our baby’s gender, my doctor detected an ab­dominal wall defect and referred us to a specialist. After an hour long ultrasound, he detected a “constellation of defects” with our baby boy. He did indeed have an abdominal wall defect (his liver and intestines were growing outside his body), in addi­tion, he had a brain defect and a heart defect. My amnio results would later confirm our baby had Trisomy 18—a chromosomal disorder that combined with the abdominal wall defect claims a mortality rate of 100% upon the birth of the child.

The series of events that would unfold over the next six weeks were nothing short of amazing. Blake and I received countless e-mails and cards—many from people we had never met. People reached out to us that had encountered similar situations and were so gracious with their memories and words of encourage­ment. I received calls from different women that had suffered similar losses that would support and encourage me almost every day through the remainder of my pregnancy. It felt as though God had a whole army of ambassadors perfectly timed and released for when we needed them most. As I prepared for today, I struggled with what to write, what to omit, what really matters and how can I best glorify God with the gift he gave us. I ended up with pages of details that although were very thera­peutic for me to write, would take us late into the afternoon. So, I have settled on three main lessons I’ve learned that I’d like to share with you followed by a journal entry.

The first lesson: my life is perfect—it’s my circumstances that are out of control. This is a saying our family has adopted and quotes often. Our lives are perfect because of God’s generous gift of salvation. We’ve had a series of “out-of-control circum­stances” over the past couple of years, but God has remained faithful and has delivered us stronger and more equipped through each one.

The second lesson: God does not put us through trials, he leads us. The lesson is that we must be submissive to his lead. I tend to be a slow learner in this regard but God is patient and forgiving.

The third and final lesson is a question: is it eternal? Asking myself this question gives me permission to let go of the things that don’t matter and focus on what does. When I am tempted to start worrying about something I simply ask “is it eternal?” 99% of the time, it isn’t so I let it go.

These lessons have not come without a price but I am grateful that God allowed me to learn them from the safety and security only his hand can provide. I would love nothing more than to share every incident with you of how God has revealed himself to our family over the past few months through his scripture, our family and friends, many of whom are here today. But for the sake of time, I will fast forward to our baby’s homecoming for that is the joyful ending…and beginning… The following is part of a journal entry that hopefully summarizes what God has led us through…

 

 

January 6, 2006

Dear Sweet Will,

Your little body was brought into this world two days ago around 5:15 AM. You were immediately brought back to our hospital room where Daddy was waiting for you. He would hold you close for the next few hours—memorizing every detail of your tiny features. You weighed 12 ounces and were 9 ½” long. Every little thing about you was delicate—your hands, feet, eyelids, nose, your head, your skin and your ruby red lips. You were perfect and beautiful in all the ways that matter. Daddy and I named you Will several weeks ago knowing that you were created to be God’s Will either from my womb or immediately following your birth. I will never forget holding you, so still and precious, while knowing at that moment you were very likely looking into the eyes of your Creator. You were so light, so delicate—but all the while I could not help but think about what a source of strength you were—and are. A perfect representation of God’s promise that he can use anyone according to his purpose and that his Will is purposeful. Your frail, earthly body reminds me of how strong God is when we allow ourselves to be weak. It is in this weakened condi­tion that God’s glory is most evident and pronounced. You were born in Heaven, we think sometime last Thursday or Friday. The timing yet another detail planned and attended to by the Heavenly Father. That is the way our Father works. Immense grace and deliver­ance when we don’t even know what to pray for. For He always knows our needs and the desires of our hearts and his gift to us is the way he melds the two while refining a stronger faith in us. That stronger faith is now better equipped to handle His mixture of our needs and desires. It is a beautiful process when we step out of His way.

 

In closing, Is my life perfect? Yes. Are my circumstances out of control? Always. Is God here to lead me through those circum­stances? Of course. Am I focusing on eternal things? That is the hard, ongoing question I must strive to answer correctly.

Blake and I claimed I Thessalonians 5:16-18 throughout my pregnancy and had it inscripted on Will’s headstone. “Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.”

Now that is eternal.