Yesterday marked the one-year-anniversary of my best friend’s baby going home to Jesus. Precious Hudson David was born at 28 weeks and lived for 36 hours. Today’s post is in honor of that precious curly-headed-baby boy and in honor of any parent who has experienced loss or grief over their children.

Bill Scarrott blogger, writer, and speaker for The Jesus Society is one of my fellow mentees in Shannon Ethridge’s BLAST program. He wrote this beautiful piece on his sister and brother-in-law’s miscarriage…following his piece is a lovely little beauty-from-ashes song by Gungor.
It is called “Beautiful Things”

A Little Hope

My sister and brother-in-law understand hope, and where it comes from.

Dan and Marilyn tried for years to have children. I think it was Dan’s idea first and Mimmy just went along, but as the years passed by it became her heart’s desire as well.

My wife and I got pregnant just by thinking about it, so I’ll never really understand what it is like to watch leaves fall, snow come and go, and flowers bloom while dreams of starting a family lie stagnant and cold. And the seasons changed over and over, and over again while they waited.

And because I don’t know that kind of longing, I’ll never totally understand the joy that they experienced when my niece was conceived.

Conventional wisdom says that you don’t make any announcements until the second trimester, but this was news a lot of us had been waiting for. Dan and Mim wanted to share the journey with the whole family from start to finish, so we found out about the pregnancy right away. It was a season of hope.

One week passed. Gemma Hope was miscarried in a small washroom in their rented house. I’ve never been able to ask Dan exactly how one goes about recovering prayers, dreams, and hope from where they just don’t belong. I guess what’s important is that you do it gently.

There weren’t a lot of words spoken that evening. The late spring air was soft and warm, but brought no words of promise or joy. As my sister later stood in the kitchen, the only sounds carried to her were of Dan in his workshop; his strong, loving hands crafting his daughter’s four inch coffin.

Sometimes when I wonder about heaven, I think of little Gemma Hope waiting there for her mom and dad. She has a few brothers now, and she’ll want to get to know them eventually as well (at least until they start teasing her). She may have to wait a little while yet, but who really knows?

When Jesus meets Dan and Mim on the other side of Sometime Soon, I wonder how He’ll arrange that first meeting between parents and child. However it happens, I doubt they’ll be standing there awed by harps, angel choirs or streets of gold. I suspect they won’t gaze slack-jawed at the architecture or peruse the ancient parchments containing the secrets of the universe. I think they’ll just want to hold Gemma.

She may be an infant, and will need a little extra care for a while. Maybe she’s a little girl and will clap for joy when mommy and daddy finally get Home. Perhaps she’s a lovely young lady with hints of her father’s steadfastness combined with her mother’s spunk.

I don’t know these things, but there is one thing I do know: she’ll have outgrown that lovingly crafted coffin.


“Beautiful Things” by Gungor

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