Friday, August 24, 2007

Dearest God,

Death and life hold hands, tugging for expression. Each attempt to take control, to achieve its end. Yet, to pull one is to tug at the other. They live together, each have their say.

Life's light shines bright, brilliantly, until the darkness of death spreads its shadow, snuffing out life. Eternity is different.

I sat in the Newborn Intensive Care Nursery holding my week old grandson in my arms for the first time. Cooing and praising simultaneously, we gave birth to joy in our little cubicle area. Our grandchild appears saved from the brink of death. Life was too strong in him. The victory is ours. His mama, papa and grandma smiled, chirping away.

But within my eye's view sat another family with their baby who will most assuredly die. Born with a chromosone problem he cannot be saved. As we breathed prayers of thanksgiving they shed tears of sorrow.

Some receive a miracle; others do not. I felt this keenly as I looked at the other grandmother who had described her grandson's dilemma. She asked if I would say something to the baby's parents. I did. I also prayed.

I remember a time about 23 years ago. Our Sunday School class had prayed for a couple who could not conceive. When she was told she was pregnant with triplets, we could hardly believe it. We were all so excited. When she was told she would have to spend her last three months in bed, it was difficult but the mom-to-be was willing to do whatever she needed to do in order to deliver her babies safely.

I remember when she went into labor. I followed them to the hospital. The doctor gave them a 90% chance of survival. In the days to follow I visited the hospital and was present when little Jennifer died. Two days later I stood in the same nursery when Amanda and Heather died within minutes of each other. Their father wailed over the loss of his babies.

Some receive a miracle and others do not. While my heart rejoices in the "rebirth" of our baby, my heart aches for the family who will say goodbye to their son.

I do not understand
why some receive joy
and others stumble
in pain and grief.
A trip
to the NICU
is bittersweet,
my own joy
tainted by the pain
of other families.
We rejoice,
O Lord
for baby Rylan.
May he remember
the gift
of this day.
May he be responsible
to give thanks and praise
for the gift of his life.
May he know
that while we received joy,
others got news
that brought pain.
May he know
the gift of life
and give thanks
to the Almighty,
to you Heavenly Father.

Celebrating with a heavy heart, Andrea