This is always heartbreaking news, but it stuck me particularly acutely because she was as far along as I was when I gave birth to Baby G. And, of course, we live two states apart now, and as much as I wish I could just drive down the road and do her laundry or make her dinner or just do something, I can’t.
She’s reported through friends that God has given her an extra measure of strength and faith right now, and for that I’m thankful, but oh….oh, the heaviness.
Lying in bed that night, as I was praying for her, I was thinking of Christmas. Initially, of course, of how very different this Christmas was going to be from what she and her husband expected. Of how the whole point of Christmas is celebrating the birth of a baby. Of a baby whose main purpose in life was, ultimately, to die.
I was reminded again, no one understands the pain of a child’s death better than our Father in Heaven. He sent His only Son away from Heaven to endure a life of hardship and pain, and ultimately a death by torture on a cross.
And then, resurrection!
And that’s the Hope. Because of the death and resurrection of Jesus, we have our Hope in Christmas.
Because of the Hope of Christmas, my friend will meet her baby girl one day, in Heaven. For more along this line of thought, I highly encourage you to read this by a friend of mine, herself having gone through 5 miscarriages. Instead of reproducing her work here, I want to give her credit for her research and ask you read it there.
Because of the Hope of Christmas, we don’t grieve as those without hope.
Because of the Hope of Christmas, we don’t only celebrate and remember the past, we anticipate the future.
Thank you, Yahweh, that Mariah and Caleb will see little Emersyn alive and well. Thank you that she is perfectly happy, perfectly healthy, and will spend every Christmas she’ll ever see in the presence of our Savior. Thank you for the Hope of Heaven. Thank you for the promise of Salvation.
Thank you for Christmas.