Grief – Sweet Sisters

The toughest thing I have ever written or presented: In honor of Steve Narup

(the son of our dear former neighbors completed suicide and I was given the honor of speaking at his celebration of life. Oh how I love Steve who is now “healed in heaven”, his mom and dad, brother and sister so much. As I wrote and painfully delivered these words my heart was feeling the great heartache of all involved. yet………

But we do not want you to be uninformed, brethren, about those who are asleep, so that you will not grieve as do the rest who have no hope. Thessalonians 4:13-14

I feel so connected to the Narup family and to Steve for our families have shared so many highs and lows together. For over 12 years the Narups lived next door to my young family in Country walk community and we literally shared a backyard. A rainbow playground set became the kids meeting place as well as the court behind our homes. My three children and Stef. Steve and Jon and the other neighborhood children built forts on that Rainbow jungle gym. They played Red Rover, kick the can, dodge ball and so many fun outside games. The hill connecting the Narup home and our OBrien home became the perfect sledding area as the children held onto each other and laughed and shouted as they raced down the hill together. They laughed and played and sometimes squabbled. Most times, they were more like siblings than neighbors. Since my children were younger and needed more supervision, I was often outside and sometimes would guide them with conflict resolution. OK so What happened ? so What should you have done? What should you do now? You could say you’re sorry and that you’ll never do that again….ok now its your turn ….you can Say I forgive you and both of you hug or shake hands ….now go on and play and never bring up what happened again. The children would say they were sorry and forgive so quickly and completely and then proceed to play together as if the offence never happened……you know I think that might be one of the reasons why it says in the Bible that we must be like little children to enter the Kingdom of God.

Steve had such a kind heart and definitely took on a big brother role with the younger children. During my children’s birthday parties, sometimes he would help led a game station, I watched as Steve patiently helped and encouraged the younger children and then proudly give then a prize. Later, I watched that same kind and gentle heart grow even larger as he so enjoyed being a dad to his daughter Madison. He was the middle child who so adored His older beautiful and vivacious sister Stef and so cherished his younger brother Jon who is so bright and creative. He was so loved and cared for by his mom and dad who faithfully supported him as he grew and gained confidence socially and in his career. I could tell Steve was both an observer and a deep thinker. Three years ago he sent me one of the kindest birthday messages I have ever received. In it, he thanked me for my role in his life and his family and then he told me to “stay on the path”. I am still so touched every time I think about it: for he reached out to me with gratitude and encouraged me to stay on the narrow path…even though he himself was struggling and searching for his own path.

On Easter Day, he used up some of his last bit of energy to get to church and say He was sorry for his sins and receive the cleansing forgiveness of the sacrament of baptism. He publicly chose to be a follower of Jesus Christ who is the Way, the truth and the Life. He chose the path that leads to everlasting life.

I was recently reminded of the story of the two men who were crucified on either side of Jesus.

One of the men was an observer and a deep thinker and recognized Who Jesus was and despite being in great pain turned to Jesus. He said, “remember me when you come into your kingdom.”

And Jesus replied, “I assure you, today you will be with me in Paradise.”

So this late convert who made the good choice…who chose to turn to Jesus while suffering, still physically died that bittersweet day.

He was not immediately rescued, and angels didn’t come to remove him from the cross that he bore.

But we know from God’s word that the man was spiritually reborn the moment that he turned to Jesus. He was completely forgiven, his wounds are now healed in heaven and he is suffering no longer.

And we trust that Steve is completely forgiven, Steve’s wounds are Healed in heaven and Steve is suffering no longer.

For God so loved Steve that He gave His only begotten Son Jesus, that if Steve believes in Him, He should Not perish but have everlasting life.

(for those of you who are hurting now with a broken heart and feeling left behind and perhaps angry or confused by it all ….. I believe Steve would say to you, “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Will you please forgive me? “

And for those of you who, like me, feel a heavy weight of guilt and wish that you had done more for Steve or tried harder or perhaps you left some words unsaid, I believe Steve would say to you and me , “I forgive you, I always knew that you loved me. I love you and I am praying for you. I am praying that you will use every bit of energy that you have to find the path. For only God’s love can heal a broken heart.

And for those that have already found the One who is the Way and the truth and the Life …I believe Steve is now praying and patiently encouraging us as he echos out what all the angels and saints around God’s throne are saying as they are cheering us on: keep going forward, look upward ….. .and Stay on the path!!!!!! )

How to Show God you are Grateful Today…. with a Kiss.

Show your gratitude to God today by giving someone a Kindness inspired by the Holy Spirit. (KISS)

Yesterday marked the anniversary of my infant daughter’s ‘Heaven Day.’
After 40 days of encouraging ups and heartbreaking downs in the NICU,
God’s loving presence embraced me as I held my baby’s beautiful, perfectly formed body for the last time. Peace covered me like the soft, warm wings of
the angels that carried her home.

Days later, while I watched her tiny coffin lowered carefully into the frozen
ground, this peace continued to cover me as the thick, white snow clings to a
barren tree.

Soon after all my friends and family went back to their own lives, I realized
why the loss of a child has been described as having one’s arm cut off. The
limb will never grow back, and the pain is agonizing as the process of the
raw, open wound slowly heals. Insensitive comments and pat explanations
sting as if salt is being rubbed into the open wound.

My husband and I both carried gaping wounds and grieved differently. As a
result, we could not comfort each other. During this lonely, terrible time of
darkness, my sensitive small daughters each regressed as they reacted to the
recent rollercoaster of events and emotions. The oldest, who before Megan’s
death had been potty-trained, reverted and started to cling to me for support.
Both vied for my attention, and bickered between themselves. I struggled to
care for them as the grief sapped so much of my energy.

For example, I remember standing at the sink one day, and yelling out to God,
“Why did you give her to me… only to take her away?” Tears ran down my
cheeks and I shook with pain. Underneath my anger cried a hurt little girl
who felt that God had ignored her prayers. Truly, I had begged for God to
heal my baby.

A few months after both the funeral and my emotional outburst to God, I
bundled up my two older daughters (three-and-a-half, and two-years-old),
and drove to the local mall. Soon after we arrived, I decided to buy ice cream
for my precious little ones in the food court. When I approached the register
to pay for it, the cashier explained that our treats had been taken care of. The
bearded man explained, “Each day a man comes here, and picks someone to
buy ice cream for. Today he picked you and your little girls.”

Oh what a sweet kiss from God when I needed it the most.

My need wasn’t money, for I had plenty to buy ice cream. But what I had
needed to know was that God saw me. I needed to know that He cared about
me, and that He would tend to my tender faith and raw questions.

I now had proof that I was not alone. This was the beginning of my awakening
to the fact that God saw my sore, hurting heart, and grieved with me. He
would gently guide me through my journey, and help me one moment at a
time.

God’s loving touch of sweet provision soothed my raw, hurting heart as cool, sweet ice cream runs down and coats a sore throat.

Twenty-four years later, my eyes still fill with mist when I remember how I
felt during this time, the lowest and loneliest season in my life. But then those
sad tears join with ones of gratefulness as I also remember God’s personal
kisses of kindness.

I now realize how important doing acts of kindness anonymously can be,
for then the recipient does not have to use up energy to repay anybody back.
Because of this, the recipient can truly receive a gift from the hand of God
⁠—the One who is The Giver of all good gifts.

I call these inspired and Spirit-led acts of kindness giving a KISS from God.

A KISS is different from the often referred to, “Random Act of Kindness” or
“RAK,” which has the connotation of just being due to random luck. Instead, a
“Kiss” in not accidental at all, but consists of who looks and prays for someone
who is hurting, and by listening to God, takes action for how to best respond.

“What is Love to me?” someone might ask.

A small cone of vanilla ice cream given by a stranger.

Best.Day.Ever.

By Amber O’Brien

Our brother died the other day

Our heavy hearts sore and severed

But how can we grieve

As those who don’t believe?

For he’s having his Best Day Ever.

he stands transfixed, healed now in Heaven

Praising the one who lives forever

So how can we grieve

As those who don’t believe ?

When he’s having his Best Day Ever.

he’s Praising Him in Paradise

Feasting on the Great Tree of Life

he’s rejoicing with the angels

Beautiful in dazzling white.

As God collects our precious tears

We trust His Love that lasts forever

So while our hearts do grieve

At the same time we do believe

That he’s having his Best. Day. Ever !!

(A Day that will last Forever and ever.) amen

Give a KISS from God every day : LovelikeJesus2

Love is Kind. I Corinth. 13:4

Yesterday was my daughters “Heaven day”; the anniversary of when I held her 40 day old perfectly formed body and she breathed her last breath. God’s peace covered me that day. She had been born premature and a staph infection in a blood clot attached to her central line caused her heart to fail. Her body was purple and bloated and she had so many pricks, and my soul knew deep down that she would be “healed in heaven”. This peace continued to cover me, as a soft snow covers a barren tree, days later as we picked her tiny coffin and throughout her funeral.

And then after everyone went back home and on with their lives; my heart and faith began to fail. When I look back on this lowest time in my life, I remember a kind act from a stranger that at just the right time and in the right way gave me hope.

I call these inspired and spirit -led acts of kindnesses: KISSes From God.

Instead of a “Random Act of Kindness” or RAK, I prefer to call these “kisses from God.” I created this acronym recently and wanted to share this with you my sweet sister.

K- Kindness

I- in

S- spired by the

S- Spirt (The Holy Spirit)

My daughter Megan Elizabeth lived such a short time on this earth and the anniversaries of her birth and death still can brings tears to my eyes and a lump to my throat.

But then I remember how the super kind act of a stranger (KISS) soothed my tired and wounded heart when I needed it the most.

A few months after the funeral, I bundled up my two year old and 3 and half year old daughters and went to the local Harford Mall. How lonely I felt as my husband and I were both so wounded and grieving in our own ways. He threw himself back into his job and spent most of his time working. My sensitive daughters both regressed and acted out sensing the rollarcoster of events and emotions. My oldest, who before Megan’s death had been potty trained, regressed and started to cling to me. They both sought my attention and bickered among themselves and I struggled to care for them as the grieving sapped so much of my energy. I remember standing at the sink one day yelling out to God, “why did you give her to me …. only to take her away?” Underneath the anger was a hurt little girl who felt that God had ignored her prayer

I went to buy ice creeam for my girls in the food court and the cashier explained that they were paid for. He explained “ That a man each day picks someone to buy ice cream for and this day he picked you and your little girls.”

Sisters…..I had money to buy ice cream. My need wasn’t money. But what I needed was to know that God saw me; I needed to know that He cared about me and my sore heart.

As cool, sweet, soothing ice- cream runs down and coats a sore throat, I felt God’s loving and healing touch cool my sore hurting heart.

This act of kindness opened the eyes of my heart. I gradually started to understand that God, who I thought was ignoring me, saw my sore heart. I was not alone I realized. God cared for me and would gently walk with me through my grief.

What did that masked man see in me? Did he see the hurting girl underneath? I’m sure I probably looked like a tired mom (he didn’t know about my grieving heart for the NICU baby) but God did and I am so glad that this man followed this nudge from God. Thank you sweet stranger from the bottom of my heart. My heart wells up with joy so much that I want to collaborate with God and give God KISSES every day just like you dear stranger did for me.
Even now, (23 years later) the tears that flow when I remember this lowest time in my life, include tears of gratefulness.

I now realize the importance of doing kind acts in secret. For then the recipient does not have to use up energy on how to repay the person back. And the recipient can truly receive the gift from the hand of God; the one who is the giver of all gifts.

So Sweet sister. Let us keep our eyes open for someone who is struggling.

Let us give anonymously ( if we can) Let’s let God get the credit for our small act of kindness. Everything we have is from Him anyhow. I know that the ice cream cones mean more because of the mystery of who it was from and how he picked me on the day I needed it the most.

God is the one who knows who in our lives is struggling the most and He knows what will help them to realize God’s Love. Just as this wonderful man picked one person a day to give A KISS from God to, why don’t we ask God each morning to show us one person who may cross our paths this day? Also, let us pray for God to give us creativity as to how to bless them.

Our actions shouldn’t be a random scattering of seeds on hard soil but instead intentional seeds of kindness on the soft heart of someone who needs a “Kiss” from God.

So ask God each morning to give you fresh eyes to notice the person around you who needs some cool refreshment.

God’s agape love is one that is not self-seeking but instead spreads outward to help others. God’s love is kind, refreshes others and will be a sweet reminder that God sees their suffering.

Who will you give a “Kiss from God” to today?

gave me a baby only to take her so back again.

Don’t Ever Forget the End of His Story….. when you are weary and weepy from grief.

Transformation. One of my favorite examples in nature is the grounded, ugly caterpillar who transforms into a beautiful butterfly who joyfully flutters into the fresh, spring sky. Similarly, one of my favorite Jesus stories is how He transformed six large stone jars filled with plain water miraculously into wine. Not just any wine……the best wine.

Do you feel like the ugly, grounded caterpillar today? or do you feel as empty as a stone jar? Perhaps you have cried so many tears that you believe you could have filled one of those 30 gallon containers. I have scribbled notes in my Bible next to the Wedding of Cana story during three desert times in my life in which I felt like a caterpillar struggling in a dark cocoon to be set free from the downward pull of grief. Three times when I felt as cold and empty as one of the stone jars. The notes read : I feel weak. a second time: so tired, empty. and third: weepy, headache.

But those notes are not the end of my story because I came and sat at the feet of Jesus day after day and He gently changed those tear-filled jars into sweet, joyful wine. He helped me to shed the cocoon of sadness and grief.

And next to those sad words during those dry times, this verse is scribbled in my bible next to the Wedding of Cana (John Ch. 2)

I will turn their mourning into joy, I will console and gladden them after their sorrows. Jeremiah 31: 13

Let us never forget the end of the story. In the physical, caterpillars change into butterflies and the best wine is produced during dry seasons when the vine roots go deep and the grapes produced are the sweetest. In the spiritual, ordinary water is transformed into sweet wine, wine is changed into the redeeming blood of the Lamb and God changes our weary, weepy hearts into hearts overflowing with hope and joy.

What did Mary tell the servers in this first miracle of Jesus? she told them,

Do “whatever He tells you.”

So your role in this transformation is to trust and obey. Sometimes like the butterfly we are to just wait and let God heal in His own sweet time as He transforms our broken hearts. While we wait we can show our trust by writing down what we are thankful for and worshiping God even in the dark cocoon when we do not understand the whys. I have found that we don’t need to know the Why’s…We just need to get to know the “who”. The names of God are adjectives that help us to know Him better. Meditate on the names and the character of God. (He is love, He is good, and He is in Control is a phrase I repeat often when struggling in a dark cocoon of doubt or confusion)

Another positive choice would be to join a support group and let God use people to show His love and to help you heal. Also, exercise and fresh air is such a necessary gift so go out often and take walks in nature and see the beauty and hope that God desires to share with you. Reach out and seek to help others, as the servers took action and filled the jars with water. Allow Jesus’ touch to transform these acts of service into healing for you and those around you.

So my advice would be to start the day in quiet with Jesus and in His word (write down three things you are thankful for in your journal after you write out all your emotions and questions) and then seek ways to show care for your body and those around you while you wait for transformation.

Nothing is wasted in God’s kingdom and so during this time of slow, painful drought is when your spiritual roots will spread down the deepest. One cannot race past this time of growth and strengthening, just as one should not remove the butterfly before his wings are strong enough to fly. Trust and obey during this desert time. Bit by Bit keep seeking out the next best choice. Make healthy choices for your mind, body and soul. Staying hydrated sometimes is the first best choice if you’ve been crying or have a headache.

Just as the Jesus saved the best Wine for the 2nd half of the wedding reception, we believe that God promises the same for His children. He promises the Best is yet to be…..in this world and beyond.

So…….What do the final verses of the Greatest book of all time say…….God’s final promises to His people ?

Behold, God’s dwelling is with the human race. He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there shall be no more death or mourning, wailing or pain for the old order has passed away. Behold, I make all things new. ( Rev. 21: 3-5 )

Faith on a Thread

Dear Sweet Sister,

Has there ever been a time when you almost lost Your faith? How did you reconcile your relationship with God?

I was recently approached with these questions and as they intrigued me, I thought I would share my answers with you.

Has there ever been a time when you almost lost Your faith?
I remember vividly the time when I held onto my faith by just a thread. It was about four months after my baby girl Megan had died and I wrestled with this troubling thought, “Why didn’t God heal my baby after I had prayed and begged for the 40 days she struggled to stay alive in the hospital NICU?”

This time of wrestling occurred during my 28th year, but my love relationship with Jesus had begun 12 years before when I was just 16 years old. While attending a summer Young life camp, a talk was given on how Jesus physically suffered on the cross for my sins and I remember asking Jesus in awed gratitude, “You did that for me – what can I do for you?” I heard in my soul the answer, “Give me your life,” and I wholeheartedly did just that. I decided to follow Jesus and seek to know Him and to trust Him with my future. What an exciting time of adventure and growth as I joined a bible study and witnessed firsthand a personal God who took an interest in every detail of my life. I witnessed over the next twelve years a God who intervened in miraculous ways as He moved in my life and in the lives of my Christian friends.

Now, as I sought answers with empty hands and a broken heart, the heavens seemed silent. I felt God’s peace the day she died in my arms and in the first weeks to follow, but as the shock lifted, my questions and emotions started to build, and I tried to push them down. Finally, feelings of anger, guilt, hurt and sorrow that I had been stuffing down finally erupted one day as I stood at the sink washing dishes. I screamed out loud to God,

“Why did you give her to me only to take her away?”

I felt hurt and rejected as I knew of other premature babies that weighed less or were born earlier who survived and were alive and well. Each time I heard of another premature baby that survived, it was as if salt were rubbed into a wound. Were my prayers not effective because I did not have enough faith? Had God turned His back on me? My faith, hopes, and dreams crashed when my husband and I helplessly watched as her small white coffin was silently lowered into the cold, hard February ground.

A few months after her funeral, a well-meaning relative gave me the book, When Bad Things Happen to Good People by a Jewish Rabbi named Harold Kushner. The author’s thesis stated that while God is good and loving and suffers with His people, He has no control over the universe and could not prevent this “bad thing” from happening.

I wrestled with this non-omnipotent thinking as I read this book. At first this sounded as a logical way out from my conundrum, for if God has no power then I could no longer be angry at Him. However, the more I thought on it, the more I decided that I didn’t want to serve a God who had no power. Who would want to follow a God who did not have power? Didn’t Jesus claim be the Great I Am? Didn’t he conquer death when He rose from the dead? Wasn’t the reason I had peace as I held her and she took her last breath because I knew she was now free of pain in Heaven, and the reason Heaven exists because Jesus broke the chains of sin and death? Yet this book said that He had no control or power.

So my choices were that either God has no control and He wanted to help me but couldn’t, or that He has control and could have healed my baby and he chose not to. Ouch. I didn’t like either choice.

The scripture that seemed to parallel my dilemma was in the Gospel of John when some of the disciples turned away and deserted Jesus. Jesus turned to the Twelve who were left and asked, “Are you also going to leave?”

Simon Peter replied,
“Lord, to whom would we go? You have the words that give eternal life. We believe and know you are the Holy One of God.” John 6: 66-69.

Similar to the twelve disciples in the above passage, I had to decide if I would follow and trust Jesus, even if I didn’t understand what He was doing — even if I didn’t like was He was doing. For what is the definition of Love? Love means commitment. Love is not based on feeling or circumstances.

How did you reconcile your relationship with God?
I thought I had “wholeheartedly” given my life to Him at 16, but now I needed to recommit my life to Him and trust that He who is LOVE and sitting on the throne allowed this for my good. I had a choice between continuing to grip onto to my anger, hurt, and disappointment with clenched hands, or to surrender my daughter with open hands into the loving hands of God.

As I worked on climbing out of the pit of all those negative emotions — self-pity, anger, hurt, disappointment, confusion — I started focusing on what I could be thankful for while I waited to see the good that could come out of this. I slowly came to realize that Jesus was suffering with me and caring for me during this tough time through many people and through His Church. A priest came to the NICU to baptize Megan when she was first born. What a gift to have a priest come and visit the hospital and offer the sacrament of baptism. My home church had a full graveyard but found a small plot so we could bury her and gave her the respect of a full burial and service. What a great comfort to visit her grave through the years and my husband found relief tending the garden around the grave as his way to actively grieve. St. Ignatius Church also gave us a room to dedicate to our daughter since she wouldn’t have a room in our home. We hired a muralist to paint a Noah’s ark themed room with carefully selected bible verses to go with each scene. Noah endured 40 days of rain similar to the 40 days Megan spent in the hospital. The biblical meaning of 40 days as a “time of completion after a period of trial and testing” gave me great comfort, as did the rainbow that God gave as a sign after the storm dissipated.

As an adult converted to the Catholic faith, I came to appreciate the memorized prayers of the Lord’s prayer and the Hail Mary as I fell back on them when I didn’t have the energy to pray conversational prayers while I spent time in the NICU. I also realized the gift of having the Mother Mary advocate for me as she is so close to his throne. Just as I called my best friend Janice to pray for me, I realized that we have so great a cloud of witnesses up in heaven close to Jesus’ throne that we can ask to carry our prayer requests up to God’s Throne.

Yes, God had not rejected me but had been there every step of the way: Grieving with me. Collecting my tears. Assuring me of Megan’s home in Heaven through scripture.

I realized one momentous day that God did answer my many prayers for Megan’s healing, for she is now “healed in Heaven,” free of all pain, sickness, and sorrow. She is now praying for me and my family as we are still left in this broken, sinful world.

I still do not know all the reasons why our baby only lived 40 precious days. But I have learned that after the 40 days of testing in the Bible, there is always change and growth. My young toddler faith, which expected God to answer all my prayers, slowly changed to a more mature faith, with roots that, especially during this dry period, went deeper down into the ground. My spiritual experience is similar to how in a marriage one must navigate going from the infatuation stage to a deeper long lasting sacrificial love. Love is commitment and, for better or worse, rich or poorer, whether my prayers are answered the way I want, sickness or in health, I have chosen to follow Jesus.

I still believe God can heal and answers our prayers on earth, but I also know that He doesn’t always give us what we want because He is God and knows more than we as to what is best for us long term. As a result, I now always end my prayers with, “Thy will be done,” for I believe that God is good, God is love, and God is in control.

Just this weekend, twenty-one years after Megan Elizabeth’s death, God is still assuring me in miraculous ways of how He is in control. After my granddaughter’s baptism, I was reminded that my husband and I gave an envelope with money in it to the two men who dug Megan’s grave, as it was such a bitter cold day and we were so appreciative of their service. They told us that they could not accept the money but would use it as the first money to be put in a fund for the new larger church to be built near the graveyard — seed money.

On Sunday our granddaughter, who was named after Megan Elizabeth, Megan Elise, was baptized in that new church. She was baptized from death (original sin) into life in the church built with the seed money given to dig her namesake’s grave. Who but God could orchestrate such a beautiful analogy but the God who gave the rainbow after Noah’s 40 days and nights? My many tears have turned into such overwhelming, goose-bumping Joy.

Psalm 126: 5-6
Those who sow with tears will reap with songs of joy.
Those who go out weeping carrying seed to sow,
Will return with songs of joy carrying sheaves with them.

So my prayer for you, Sweet Sister, is that you will be honest with God through the years and share with Him all of your thoughts and feelings (in your mind, or better yet in a journal). He wants a real relationship with you, and that will include some wrestling.

Most of all, I pray you will always know that anything that happens is always filtered through His loving fingers and He works all things out for those that Love God and are called according to His purpose. (Rom. 8:28)

He is good He is Love He is in control.

Ask your Generous abba (daddy) for help, but always end your requests with, “Thy will be done.”

His Forever,

Amber O’Brien

For Those Who Are Grieving This Christmas Season

My experienced friends warned me that certain days of the year could pull a bereaved person down into a quicksand-like spiral as the memory of the past rubs salt into the still-wounded present. Holidays and anniversaries magnify the loss of a loved one, each event having the potential to drag under the people left behind. As a new Christmas season approached, I hoped that during the second anniversary of my baby girl Megan’s birth and death, I would resist both fighting the pull of grief and trying to speed through this potentially heartbreaking time. For as a victim in quicksand soon learns, both thrashing around and trying to rush through it could result in more loss. Continuing to fight causes the quicksand victim to further sink, just as I could further sink into my grief and self pity. Panicking and trying to speed the process of escape causes the victim to sink faster, just as I could push myself further into the pit of despair by not taking my time to acknowledge and face my grieving.

The Key with both quicksand and with grief is to move slowly, take small steps, and be willing to let others pull you out.

Two years before, I gave birth to a premature baby girl on December 23. The most intense forty days of my life followed her emergency birth as my husband and I watched our baby girl go on and off a respirator and survive bowel surgery, only to watch her take her final breath in my arms. Megan weighed just 2 pounds 4 ounces, but she was perfectly formed, a true gift from God. As she struggled for her life, we struggled against two major snowstorms to bring her my breast milk. I felt so torn between visiting the hospital and caring for my other two daughters, Mary Jo and Katie, at home.

As Megan took her final breath, however, I felt God’s complete peace and an awareness of his sovereignty. She shared forty days with us on earth, the number the early church fathers held as “the necessary period of cleansing or testing and strengthening which allows the fullness of wisdom to become a reality.” According to the Bible, Jesus spent forty hours in the tomb between good Friday and Easter morning, as well as forty days in the desert while being tempted. Noah and his family spent forty days on the ark. Moses fasted for forty days before he received the Ten Commandments, and the Israelites wandered for forty years before entering the Promised Land. Megan completed her forty days on earth and was now free from pain, praising God in her own Promised Land – Heaven.

The name Megan means “will achieve might and strength,” and I knew in my innermost depths her life was complete at forty days. While most days I could trust in God’s perfect wisdom for my family and me, as a sensitive and shortsighted human I still felt the loss of a loved one. Grieving is a healthy and necessary process whose emotions and tears should not be buried or ignored. I spent the following year writing in my journal and creating a scrap/photo album to include the photos, cards, and letters sent to commemorate Megan’s short life. A room was dedicated to her at my home church and Mary Jo, Katie, and I made frequent stops to hang bulletin boards and set up supplies. A year and a half later, a baby boy named Jacob blessed our family (Jacob means “the supplanter”). The waves of grief diminished as time and understanding increased. I turned to Jesus and His Holy Word for comfort and I felt my own faith strengthen. At times, I relished in the thought that I had a child in Heaven, for is that not our ultimate goal as parents?

However, as Christmas and Megan’s second birthday approached, my fears of how I would handle the days increased. Christmas was centered on a baby boy who was miraculously born. The absence of a miracle for Megan would seem greater with one less stocking to fill. On the other hand, if I filled a stocking as some bereaved parents do, I have one less child to unpack all the goodies. The sore empty wound that I still carried (and will always carry in a lesser degree until I am reunited with my baby) seemed such a contrast to the cheery hustle and bustle of Christmas. What could I do instead of planning her birthday party? What could I buy instead of party favors, cake and ice cream? Would anyone but me remember Megan’s birthday?

Christmas surrounded me with its cinnamon smells, jingle bells, glitter and gold tinsel. Could it have been only two years before, alone in my cold sterile hospital room that I spent Christmas morning? I was supposed to be six months pregnant, I thought. Instead, my little baby girl struggled for life in intensive care. My staples stung from the emergency cesarean, a physical reminder of the stinging feeling of sitting alone in a hospital bed trying to imagine the reactions of my girls as they opened their gifts at home. Two years later, especially during anniversary remembrances, the sore emptiness of loss was ever present and I feared I would sink into the quicksand of self-pity and depression. “Lord, I can’t let Megan’s birthday take away the peace and Joy of Christmas from my other children. Help.”

The Sunday before Christmas, we stopped by Megan’s grave after church. Before I opened the car door, I spotted something lying on her tombstone. I burst into tears of joy as I realized someone had left a tiny Christmas tree in Megan’s memory. Little ornaments of angels, Mary and Joseph, adorned the little tree. Attached was a card inside a plastic bag. Who could have been so kind? Who remembered Megan? With trembling hands, I ripped open the bag. As I read the card, my questions melted into understanding. Of course – It was from Irene and Rich, friends of ours who had lost their own baby a year before mine to SIDS. “Merry Christmas, Megan,” the card read. “Keep an extra eye out on your Mommy and Daddy, Mary Jo, Katie and Jacob this Christmas. You are forever in their hearts.”

I felt God’s love through the gift of that tree. As I thought about how Rich and Irene were able to comfort me because of their own loss, an idea sprouted. Now I had a plan as to how I was going to celebrate Megan’s birthday. My excitement grew as I planned our birthday surprise, and I no longer felt the quicksand pull of self-pity. On December 23rd, I bundled up my children and stopped first at a florist shop and selected a colorful bouquet with roses.

Next, we stopped at a local bookstore. I did not know the owners personally, but I had briefly met their preteen daughter before she died in a bicycling accident years before. She had watched my older daughter at church, and so five-year-old Mary Jo handed the father our bouquet. “What’s this?” he asked. I nodded to the picture of his daughter behind the cash register. The words sputtered out and my eyes blinked back tears. “This is in memory of your daughter.”

Later that night, as I pulled into our driveway, I noticed a white rose with a note attached lying in our path. I recognized my friend Terry’s handwriting, but the message felt straight from heaven. “Mommy, Thank you for giving me a ‘birth’ day. Love, Megan.”

Tears of gratitude and release flowed. Like a balm for my wound, the tears flowed as I again felt God’s love and understanding through a friend. More ideas began to spring up as if my tears provided the moisture necessary for germination. Many neighbors, relatives and friends were approaching quicksand pools of their own, and I hoped to help pull some of them out. The strongest pull is love, I will tell them, and the only escape from a pool of quicksand is to receive God’s love and then to love-pull a friend out of their own.