Kevin and I spent the Monday and Tuesday before the Wednesday Jan. 29 "Homegoing" service with our families sharing notes and talking, healing. Things kept popping up on our front porch without a knock, without a word. A white baby blanket, intricately hand stitched with a cross on one corner and an “H” on another corner. It was folded cross-side up when we got it. That made us smile. When we discovered the “H” on the other corner, that made us cry. Good tears. Kept in a cup – or a barrel – or an ocean – by our Heavenly daddy who has the right-sized vessel for our tears already ready for each of His kids (Psalm 56:8). A bracelet with three charms on it: a K, an L, and a G. Each initial has our respective birthstones attached. Expressions of personal love from personal friends brave enough to enter our hearts head-on. Hearts-on, really. Two horsey “lovies” – more on those soon; they produced incredibly strong emotions.
Our dining room table was turning into a holding space for pretty things, gifts of love. I pulled out a picture frame, our first baby present, given to us in early autumn. The bottom of the frame has the words “Tiny Miracle” across it. Truth. I didn’t have a good picture to put in it until last week’s ultrasound. Blurry, but it is the best of the bunch.
We also felt and held the collection of precious items the hospital gives to parents who lose a child. The lock of hair nurse No. 5 had preserved for us. She said she didn’t even notice it until our baby was “all cleaned up.” Just one tiny lock – Dr. Seuss style is how I envision it to have sprung out of our precious Gabriel’s head. It is chocolate brown; beautifully strong in color. It is by far the most tangible evidence we have since it is real hair from our real baby boy. And it’s the only physical part of him we will see this side of heaven.
The inked footprints and handprints the hospital also gave us. Because of the intense swelling, they look more like prints from a bear cub, but it’s our lil’ brown bear, and we smile looking at those puffy paws. On that same certificate-style piece of paper were the measurements, pounds, ounces, date, time. The hospital gave us the medical ID tags Gabriel would have worn if he had lived on earth. A tape measure with 17 inches marked off on it. (I didn’t need to see that but I’m sure it’ll be nice to remember down the road.) The hospital even gave us a beautiful tiny hat and gown – in case we didn’t have one already for Gabriel’s only outfit. (We did have one – I tried to describe to family the white hand-made day gown and the tiny, tiny, bonnet that another dear friend made. We took lots of pictures.)
The silent gifts on the doorstep seemed to come all day long. Or was it days? Six white roses from our church. White mixed flowers from our friends. It was nice that, at first, everything was white. Clean. Pure.
At some point, springtime yellow daffodils from my parents and homemade chicken soup thanks to Bonus Mom. Our cozy home smelled and looked wonderful. Laughter as our sisters hung out with each other and our dads told stories and our moms chattered and chattered. Our widow friend and best local friend came over and shared their time and their tears and some joyous moments with the Holts and with us. Our widow friend – I hate calling her that but this whole anonymous thing is hard – had found refuge in our church’s small chapel the night of our delivery; she had to finish the gown. Our best local friend had a migraine the night we were in labor and she stayed up praying for us until midnight – fighting her own personal head pain. These two women told us all this afterward; we had no idea they loved us this much. We had a hunch. But God doesn’t deliver hunches; He delivers full punches – of truth, reassurance and love. These two friends are two of His best kids; they make us better too.
Kevin and I were a little nervous after everyone left our house Tuesday night. So we read the Bible, separately but together. We went to sleep after asking for rest during the night and strength for the next morning. More thanksgiving; more surrender. A few more tears.
We woke up on time and fairly well rested. I wore a cobalt blue sweater and a scarf – orange and blue – War Eagle!!! – that my Bonus Mom had given me for Christmas. Black pants and my big red coat. As always, Kevin looked great – think 7-up ad from the 80s – “crisp and clean and no caffeine!” in his suit and bright red tie. Black long coat and bright red scarf. My gloves didn’t match, but that’s Ok, they were both black so I’m sure nobody noticed. Kevin didn’t wear any so I pressed my hands into his once we were there. We are like puppies in our continual comfort of one another. That’s nothing new.
My parents and sister picked us up to drive us to the graveside to wait about half an hour until 11 am arrived. The Holts were already there in their rental SUV, so we parked behind them. Kevin and I had decided how to use the sitting time – it could go one of two ways – immediate tears opening the sisters’ floodgates or peace in the moment. We sought peace; we had prayed for it and God delivered. The idea for what happened next came to me that morning when I was trying to calm myself down through scripture. Where else could you turn really?
First, we slipped into the Holt’s vehicle. I read the first chapter of Genesis. Kevin read the last chapter of Revelation. Our tone was steady; we read at a composed pace. (I say our because even though he’s a Kevin and I’m a Lee, and we do have different voices, when we married we became a we. In fact, one of our good friends dubbed us “Kee” while we were still dating. We haven’t fought over that middle “e” yet. We probably never will.) Our senior pastor once said something like, “Of course, when you read something, it’s best to read the whole book. But if you want to catch the drift, read the first part and the last part.” Genesis chapter 1 is so good because God says, “I did it, and it was good” over and over and over and over again. Revelation 22 is equally hopeful and joyful with an edge of “I hope you paid attention because this is serious.” We did the same thing with my parents in their Suburban. I had clocked it by reading it out loud to myself earlier that morning. It took 8 minutes total – perfect to minimize downtime for worry (insert your favorite pet sin here – fear, doubt, dread, hysteria?) to creep in. Plus nothing scares Satan away more than a dose of reality, you know, the written Word.
My dad then had our car-full hold hands – a la football huddle style – and he sputtered through a tear-filled song he had come up with sometime earlier. He changed the words of the Advent hymn “What Child Is This” to lyrics befitting our little boy. (My earthly daddy is pretty cool. My sister gets her crying gene from him. So sweet.)
Those lyrics are:
“What child is this?
We have laid to rest
In the arms of Christ
Is now sleeping?
Where angels greet
With anthems sweet
While mortal eyes
Are weeping.
This, this, this is Gabriel.
God’s messenger
Who was sent to us.
Gabriel now rests
In the arms of Christ
And his message to us
Is be joyous.”
Changing lyrics is nothing new for my Dad. Right after he retired in 1999 or so, he spent a good deal of time submitting country songs to producers in Nashville. I know because I typed the lyrics for him since my parents didn’t, and still don’t, have a computer. That’s a decision by choice, not by ignorance or lack of ability. Anyway, “Little girls and hookers are the ones who wear red shoes” and “Hug me like you mean it; I aint gonna break” haven’t made it big in Nashville – yet! He thought Reba would be best for the Red Shoes one. I love my dad.
Right after that, our widow friend and our best local friends – migraine girl and her husband, the one who set Kevin up with me – pulled up at the very last minute so we hopped – I shifted – out of our cars and walked to the graveside together. I couldn’t fully grasp the size of the group gathered. Later I would find out more than 100 signed the book. At some point the book was taken away and the rest of the line couldn’t sign; I don’t know. I just know we walked into a circle of love.
Before we got to our chairs, I handed a “lovie” that Forrest’s mom had given us to the funeral home director. She had given us two actually – two tiny identical baby blankets for wrapping up baby with a horsey stuffed animal (perfect animal selection for me) at one corner of each blanket to make it even more cute and cuddly. The night before, Kevin and I had slept with the one that would be buried with Gabriel that day. Before we went to sleep, I had taken a picture of the lovie resting on my aching chest. Then I had taken a picture of the lovie draped over Kevin’s shoulder – you know, the burping position. We cried in that moment, of course. But at the graveside, we were calm. No tears fell. Off to the side, the funeral home director would discretely put the lovie we loved inside the casket before closing it for the last time. No drama from this mama.
Parents flanked on each side of us; sisters sitting behind us; pained faces all around. But Kevin and I just leaned into each other as we sat and listened to the preached Word. We didn’t have to use the tissues I had stuffed in our pockets. I’m still amazed that we didn’t cry. But, again, that’s how God works. In daily doses: minute by minute miracles of peace and patience and providence. What probably looked like a crazy little smile crept across my face from time to time. We were burying our baby but God had already set him free. His corpse was in that coffin but his soul went to the arms of Jesus days before. Praise God for accepting him just the way he was. And for immediately making him whole and complete – something Kevin and I could not do.
Lots of side hugs, tight hand-squeezes, well meaning moments absorbed into our smiles. A bear hug – by comparison – from the one other guy who knew the most – our wonderful doctor. He was also the first to sign the book – that meant he probably stood in the cold the longest – with our regular nurse alongside. LOVE THEM. Love that tiny detail. Busy schedule? No problem. Full hearts. They were there. Ahhhhhh. Peace.
The graveside service itself was beautiful and so appropriate. It was in the mid-20s but the sun was shining. Or do I mean The Son was shining … near us? My high school class of 1995 sent the most colorful, beautiful flowers for the graveside. They were the only flowers there, and they were perfect. Bigger than the tiny casket, they had to sit on the ground nearby. A bunch of people probably didn’t see them, but I did. And I loved the gesture.
We had asked people to wear bright colors to the graveside and they did. They really did. I loved the neon ski jacket that one office friend wore. I loved the church friend who said she got her brightest coat dry cleaned just for the occasion. I loved hearing about Facebook friends from Texas to New Jersey to D.C. who wore bright colors that day too. One even knitted a new scarf – wow. Talent and time. I loved that our ministers delivered the most pointed and loving sermon on Gabriel’s role as messenger. I loved that our community group shepherd spoke. I loved that even though tons and tons of our friends have kids, the only children there happened to be an old volleyball/junior high friend/current real estate client who brought her two kindergarten or less aged girls. I had my two beautiful brightly colored happy n playful girls. Good stuff. (If there were other kids there and I just didn’t see them, I’m so sorry for the oversight – we could only see so many people at a time. Little ones would’ve been even easier to miss in the crowd!)
We saw friends we hadn’t seen since our wedding. Kevin was incredibly appreciative of the work friends from his former job who came. That was a beautiful, first class gesture on their part. They were joined in faith and compassion and respect. (When your position is terminated, you don’t get a chance to say goodbye. By nature, it’s an impersonal process – policies are in place to protect the company, which makes total sense. Kevin had wanted a more personal goodbye, and at our son’s graveside, he was afforded that. It meant a lot to him. Good people; good stuff. Good God. A tender mercy we did not see coming.)
The real estate community also turned out big time; my company is made up of loving people who’ve supported us from the very beginning. So rare in an independent contractor setting and so wonderful to feel and see. I found out days later that the head of our company was there too. As owner, he was in the process of rebranding our company – a first in my eight years with the group. He would announce the new name and launch the full product line the following week, but he still made time to support us. Unbelievable yet the whole experience has been unbelievable by standard expectations. Realtors from other firms came; clients came – some from years ago – so cool. Again, we couldn’t see or talk to everyone, but it was nice to be warmed – literally and figuratively – from the crowd.
After the “Homegoing,” a smaller group gathered at wouldn’t-you-know-it, our community group shepherd’s home for food, fellowship and fun talks. Our parents and sisters could really see community in action, sincerity of kindnesses, and generosity of spirit. The hospitality was overwhelming. Nearly every person I spoke to had shown us some specific kindness, had given us some touch – in prayer or word or deed – that was incredibly special and hit our hearts at the exact right time. The house full of love was humbling. It felt more like an “After Party” than anything else. It was a good day. A very good day. And human love is a fraction of God’s love? That means the real After Party is going to be a total blast!
Here is a copy of the message our Sunday school pastor said that day:
“Today is sad. We are not supposed to lose our babies at 31 weeks. That’s not how God intended this world or the creation circle to work. This is truly sad, and Kevin and Lee, please know we are grieving for you and with you in these moments.
But in the short time I have with yall this morning, I want to praise the Lord for little Gabriel – because his life, though only being 31 weeks, was extremely significant to God, to you, his parents, and to us, the body of Christ.
Gabriel is a great name. In the Bible it means “man of God.” Gabriel was an angel that was truly blessed because he was the messenger to Zechariah and Elizabeth about their pregnancy and future baby boy, John the Baptist. Also, even more unique and special was that he was the one to announce to Mary that she would be bearing a child, and he would be “great and will be called the Son of the Most High. And the Lord God will give to Him the throne of His father David, and He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of His kingdom there will be no end.”
Gabriel was a messenger of good news, and he was truly blessed for being that angel to carry out that duty.
Gabriel Holt was also as blessed because he, too, was a messenger of good news. His message was not to announce this glorious and magnificent savior, as Gabriel the angel’s was, but it was nonetheless powerful and important. Gabriel Holt’s message to me, and to all of us today, is that Jesus is King. You see he only lived for 31 weeks – 217 days – but during those weeks he was in a place that nobody else could reach, be, hang out. He was isolated from the world in his mother’s womb, and when we learned of his condition, we couldn’t help but ask, “What can we do?” or “How can I fix this?” The answer was, “We can do nothing, and we can’t do anything.” What Gabriel’s life and condition did for us as the body of Christ is to expose our insufficiencies and weaknesses in this world. Gabriel’s little life forced us to realize our total dependence upon Jesus as our King, because He can do all things. “Nothing is impossible for God,” Gabriel the angel says later in Luke, chapter 1. It is only with God that there is any hope for healing.
Though Gabriel could never speak or have a conversation with Kevin and Lee or any of us, it doesn’t mean he didn’t have a message. His message is that there is a king, and he is in control of all things, and we are not. We are His beloved creatures that He loves dearly, and He wants us to cry out to Him. He wants us to need Him. What little Gabriel’s life did for me and for many of us is that it forced us to see our need for Jesus. That is a message I want to hear and need to hear daily.
But that is not the only message little Gabriel Holt had for us. You see, in the Bible, Gabriel was an angel that stood in the presence of the Lord, and that word ‘stood’ means “to wait upon your superior.” Little Gabriel this day is standing before His king, “praising Him and waiting upon His king,” and that is only the case because of his King’s – the Lord Jesus’ covenant promises. Kevin, Lee, and all of us can have full confidence that little Gabriel is waiting upon his King in heaven this day, this morning, because his King loves him. His King gave His life for him. His King was faithful to His covenant promises, which are for us and our children.
I hope you see that your baby boy, little Gabriel, had a message just like Zachariah and Elizabeth’s baby boy had, and that is that there is a loving King that has come to rescue us from all our pain, agony, sorrow, confusion, tears… and His name is Jesus of Nazareth.”
For those of you keeping track at home, the other scripture read or said included: Isaiah 43:1, John 6:35, John 10:14-15, Psalm 34:18, and Luke 1:19.
You should know I’m not one of those scripture-quoting people. I’m one of those look it up, check it twice, have my husband check it once, scripture-seeking people. In my girls’ Bible study sometime last year, we were all given a verse to read and mine was in John. John 3 in fact. So there I turned, ready to go. Problem was they were talking about 3 John, not John 3. So I read out of the wrong place – entirely. (Probably loudly). They sweetly corrected me. I was embarrassed and it totally showed I hadn’t done the assignment/advance reading/what-do-you-call-it? homework? from the week before. They know I rarely come to Bible study prepared; that’s fairly common for me. I think just being there is half the battle. But it was still embarrassing. =)
My point is if you’re reading this thinking I’m a walkin’ talkin’ Bible scholar, I am not. I can’t tell you a lot. I can just lean into it a lot. And keep trying. And keep seeking. (Think Matthew 6:33 – and, yes, I just Googled it from the keyword “seek.”) Oh, and it was only about a year ago that I finished reading the Bible for the first time – cover to cover starting with G and ending with R. First time. Thanks to an app that did all the work for me. I’d scroll and read until Kevin’s Kindle told me to stop for the day. I repeated that for 90 days. It took more like 110, but no biggie. I started Nov. 19 of 2012, three days after my birthday that year. Funny, I finally read it because I thought it would make me a better mom. And it did.
“The Grace of the Lord Jesus be with all. Amen.” -- Revelation 22:21
No comments:
Post a Comment