Oh dear, Mother’s Day—again. One of the most difficult days of the year for me.
February 17, 2001, forever changed my life. Our twenty-eight year old daughter suddenly died from a hemorrhagic stroke in her brain stem.
Gone in an instant.
She left behind a four-and-a-half-year old daughter, a seven month old baby boy, a grieving husband and family.
For you who have experienced tragic loss, you understand. You know the tsunami of grief and the secondary losses that bring chaos to your life and to the family. I’m sure you’ve asked the same why questions I asked—with one exception.
Thirteen months earlier our Michelle was three months pregnant with this now motherless seven-month son, Noah. She and her husband had gone for a routine sonogram one Friday. After reviewing the images the doctor learned the baby was horribly deformed with organs outside the body.
The doctor recommended an abortion.
He gave them ‘til Monday to make a decision—abortion or life with a special needs child.
After the tearful phone call I received from our daughter I caught a plane so I could be there for the follow-up visit Monday. Before I left, we called our church family and asked them to pray.
The first thing I noticed when I stepped off the plane was the set of my daughter’s jaw. They had made the decision. After a shower of hugs and kisses, Michelle announced. “We are keeping this baby. Whatever God gives we will receive and love. This little one…” she patted her tummy, “…is a gift from Him. There will be no abortion.”
The appointment time arrived Monday morning. Clint and Michelle left for the doctor while I treasured time with our first grandchild, then two-and-a-half year old Ashton. The minutes turned to hours. I prayed, laughed and played games with this precious, blonde-haired child of my child.
Until Michelle and Clint burst through the door. Their faces bathed in joy, both talking, laughing, and crying.
God had answered our prayers!
Michelle told us how the doctor repeated the sonogram, then slumped onto his stool, and signaled other nurses and doctors to come and see. Monday’s picture showed a perfect baby—all organs in place—like a three-month-old baby in the womb should be. He placed the image from Friday beside the image from Monday. They appeared to be two very different babies. He had no explanation. But Michelle and Clint did. God healed Noah—in the womb. Just like we had asked Him to do.
But now I stood by her grave site and cried “Why God? Why would you heal this baby and then thirteen months later take his mother?” There was silence. The heavens were brass—for months.
Then one morning I sat with the Word of God opened in my lap and read “The secret things belong to the Lord God, but the things revealed belong to us and to our children forever, that we may follow all the words of this law” (Deuteronomy 29:29).
The quiet voice in my soul asked, “Do you trust Me, DiAne?”
With trembling heart and lips I replied, “Yes, Lord. I trust You.”
“Even with this secret thing?”
“Yes Lord, even with this secret thing.”
And then there was peace, the beginning of acceptance and a giant step of faith in our Lord Jesus Christ.
This scripture has been a life-ring for me. Have I asked why since that time? Oh yes. But I answer—quickly, “Yes Lord, I know. It’s one of those secret things that belongs to You. I don’t need to know, because You know.”
Other moms are surrounded by their children on Mother’s Day. My child is with the Lord and I feel alone, very alone.
However, I have learned to remember there are millions of moms, just like me. Moms whose children no longer celebrate this special occasion with them. A few years back I was prompted to send a Mother’s Day card to those mothers who have lost a child. A card to let them know someone loves them and remembers.
My daughter’s best friend remembers me each Mother’s Day with a card that carries a bitter sweetness that fertilizes blossoms of joy in my heart that grow and bloom out of the soil of pain.
If you know a mom who has lost a child, why don’t you send a card to them this Mother’s Day. God will bless the sender and receiver. I know because He has blessed me.
MOVING THE ANCIENT BOUNDARIES 