March 20, 2005

Four years later and I still miss my Gracie Anne. I still have the email I sent the school staff. I still have a devotional my dear friend’s mom emailed me. Four years later and my images of Gracie sparkle with clarity. I imagine blonde curly hair. Blue eyes. Ribbons and bows. I imagine a free spirit. An artist. Rolling down grass hills and skipping to her own beat.

Four years later, I still have a box. A box filled with pinks and purples. Dresses and shoes. I have yet to part with many of her things. I keep holding on. Perhaps it’s my tangible way to remember what might have been. That box sits right next to another box. A box filled with condolence cards, prayers, genetic test results and a death certificate. Together, those boxes cry out the bittersweet mixture of our reality.

Gracie Anne would have been four today.

As a small girl, I sat beside the Christmas tree and planned out my future. I began collecting dinner plates by the time I was twelve. I gave my children names and selected house plans. I’ve always been a planner.

And yet, in all the countless afternoons I mentally sketched out my future, I never accounted for loss. I dreamed about the possibilities. I was full of unwavering hope. I trusted.

Loss. A seemingly unwelcomed jolt.

Today, I went back and read part of the devotion sent to me right after we received news of Gracie’s condition:

Little one, loved before knowing,
Precious one, in dreams so fair;
My empty arms ache to be holding
My rosebud who blooms "over there."

if you had come to be with us
I'd have shown you the stars and the sea;
But your eyes see them eternally clear …
One day you must show them to me.

How precious that one of Joshua’s favorite things to do with Ben is lay under the stars and watch. And wait. And listen. Last week, it was under that huge blanket of God’s majesty that Joshua asked Jesus to come live in his home. I watched Ben interact with Joshua that night, not knowing the details of their conversation. I watched them point and gaze as Joshua listed off the countless creations of God. That night, creation spoke of His majesty. Spoke right into the heart of a listening three year old.

That very same night, Jesus welcomed another baby into His arms. Ours for only a moment. His for eternity.

Many times this week, I have pictured myself beside that Christmas tree. Presents wrapped. Music playing. Me, all alone, with my thoughts and blank paper. A future ahead. Full of hope and expectation.

My blank paper has been filled with many things that were not to have been. Not in MY plan. Not me, please not me.

And yet this thought continues to invade my mind – Bringing back what is His.

An opportunity to trust. To loosen my grip. To offer back what is already His. To hand over my Gracie Anne and the four years of anger that I’ve held tightly. To allow Him to walk alongside me as I grieve this new loss.

To listen to Jesus, as Ben asked Joshua to do last week, in my heart. What is He saying? And to be comforted, that two of my sweet children are blooming, over there.

Entire devotional on Christianity Today website