In moments like these... I sing out a song. I sing out a love song to Jesus... In moments like these... I lift up my hands. I lift up my hands to the Lord. Singing, I love You, Lord. Singing, I love You, Lord. Singing, I love You, Lord... I love You.
In the crowded sanctuary, you could almost hear a pin drop... if it weren't for our sniffles and soft, tearful gasps. My friend, Angie, had just given her eulogy for her baby boy, and then in that moment, bolstered by the Lord's strength, chose to end with a song that has always been dear to her heart. The juxtaposition of a mourning mother's worship and the sad reality that brought us all under this roof in the first place... was both beautiful and cruel. There were no instruments nor accompanying voices. It was just Angie... and the Lord.
Tommy was only 6 months old. He was the product of more than seven years of trying to conceive, countless prayers, and endless hope. On the day Tommy was born, the pure joy and elation was clouded by the discovery that he had esophageal atresia and tracheoesophageal fistula, a rare birth defect in which Tommy's esophagus was not connected to his stomach. After more surgeries and treatments than 20 people should have in their lifetime, Tommy was fairly healthy and was growing and chubbing up like a champ... until he contracted RSV (respiratory syncytial virus), which presents itself with cold-like symptoms and can be deadly in young infants, especially those like Tommy, whose airways were already extra narrow from his condition. On January 7, Angie and Todd rushed Tommy to the ER, but his heart could not take the trauma, and shortly after, Tommy was laid to rest. It was so painfully sudden...
I never did have the privilege of meeting little Tommy in person, but his life touched me greatly. I enjoyed reading Angie's updates on Tommy, and I LOVED seeing his pictures. Perhaps it was his personality that shone from his eyes, his chubby little arms and cheeks that begged to be pinched, or his wry smile that warms my heart even now... that though I never did get to meet Tommy, I feel such a strong connection to him. Or perhaps it was that Angie EXUDED love for her baby boy, and that love was infectious and uplifting, and it brought all who encountered it into their sweet slice of heaven. And I just mourn so deeply her loss.
I mourn as a mother of a little boy who is not much older than Tommy. I mourn, because I cannot imagine waking up one day without my child, and the now present void that must be suffocating. I mourn, because Angie will never be able to hold Tommy in her arms again... won't be able to rock him to sleep, or feel his little arm hooked around her neck... I mourn, because she will finally be able to sleep in... that there are no more toys to pick up... that her arms are light and she now has two hands again... I mourn, because these new-found freedoms must be so debilitating.
I mourn, because... it wasn't supposed to be this way.
I am angry. I have questions. I demand to know WHY!!! Why, God, did you give such a precious, perfect boy to Angie and Todd, only to take him away so quickly? Why did you not save him? Why? why................... In the silence, it is Angie's voice that bypasses all the answers I know in my head regarding God's sovereignty and goodness beyond my understanding, that I've angrily shoved away. It's her voice that seeps into my heart. In moments like these... I sing out a song. I sing out a love song to Jesus...
It's crazy that Angie's faith is ministering to ME. If I have rage-filled questions, I KNOW Angie does, too. And yet, she trusts. And on her shaking knees, she is strengthened. And she is blessed with a peace that is unmistakable, even amidst the destruction that is all around her.
In moments like these... I lift up my hands. I lift up my hands to the Lord...
I picture little Tommy in our Father's embrace now, his chubby, little arms wrapped around our Father's neck. I imagine him zooming around on his tiny trike and playing peek-a-boo with Jesus. In Angie and Todd's place, our loving Father is now taking care of Tommy, holding him, rocking him, playing with him, and making him laugh and shriek in delight... And there is overflowing joy. And there is contentment. And there is perfect unity with our God, who, I trust, is good.
Singing, I love You, Lord. Singing, I love You, Lord. Singing, I love You, Lord...
I love You.
Tommy, may you rest, not just in peace, but in everlasting JOY...
Thomas Daniel Eaton
June 19, 2012 - January 7, 2013
"The LORD gave, and the LORD has taken away. Blessed be the name of the LORD." Job 1:21
4 comments:
Thanks for sharing Ceci. It breaks my heart reading about Angie and little Tommy -- perhaps, like you said, we can really sympathize since we are mothers ourselves. It is encouraging to hear of your friend's continual desire to trust in God. Praise God for His faithfulness and goodness and sovereign plan even when we do not understand.
Wow, it's hard not to be in tears after reading this. It breaks my heart and also amazes me that Angie can still respond with unshaken faith. I'm thankful that God understands our questions and our anger, even if He doesn't ever answer our question of "why?". I guess that's what faith is all about...
Ceci...I just saw this via FB. What a tragedy this is--my heart goes out to baby Tommy and Angie/Todd. I never can understand something like this myself, but thank you for sharing this beautiful and tragic story--I feel blessed to have known Angie and now feel even more blessed to have been touched by her trust in the Lord. God 's love is perfect and true. I know He is strengthening the family, and that Angie shall see Tommy again in Heaven. *sigh* thanks again, my friend.
Thanks for sharing, C.
These moments when we scream, "It's not supposed to be like this!!!" are wonderful reminders that we were made for a different world-- a world that Tommy's already enjoying, but we'll have to look forward to by faith.
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