This video is how we ended this day...a day of sorrow, and joy, of grace and forgiveness, of confusion and peace. Eight years out it seems like it should be an easier day to navigate and yet I still struggle like I did the first year. It is tough not to allow your mind to walk through every single moment of a day that changed EVERYTHING.
On this day eight years ago, we packed our lunches dropped Luke off with his grandparents and headed to the hospital to see our sweet Isaac. He'd been doing well and though we knew the future didn't look like it would be a long one for him we knew God knew better than we did and we wanted to soak him up. Tired and apprehensive about another full day in the NICU, I decided to take a tape recorder along and read children's books into it so that when we came home that night to put Luke to bed, Isaac could still hear my voice. It always seemed to soothe him.
Little did I know that he'd never hear those recordings, and that the end part of my reading "I'll Love You Forever" would be the way the memorial service would end the following week. We showed up and knew in an instant things had taken a turn. It all happened so fast...there were tears and vomit (mine) and sweet amazing nurses and gut wrenching agony...it was eight years ago and yet it seems like yesterday.
It hurts...boy does it still hurt, yet eight years out I can tell you while the pain is still there...we look back and see so much purpose to that child's life. He has accomplished great things on this earth even though he was only here six days. I am so very grateful God chose me to be his mama. Days like today make me ever so homesick...but I can grieve and cry out to a God who knows...who cares, who holds my every tear in His mighty hand and will some day make it all right. It IS well with my soul.
Yet this morning, I got out of bed, determined to live this day to the fullest and was kind of sideswiped when I learned that my grandfather was in the hospital. He's 86. He had suffered some heart trouble and had a procedure done and was having a tough time. Of course when I asked what hospital he was in and I was told the VERY hospital my son had died in eight years ago...I felt anxiety set in.
I prayed and prayed about what I should do. Ultimately I knew the only way I'd have peace would be if I went in to see my grandpa. I parked in that garage and as I approached that familiar building I thought I might turn and run. As I entered the rotating doors, I watched as families loaded their newborns into the car, and I felt like I couldn't breathe. I walked to the desk and asked for his room number and had to truly fight the urge to RUN, the memories washed over me like a flood and I was losing my grip.
I made a quick trip to the restroom before boarding that elevator. I took a deep breath and I prayed, I prayed for grace and for strength and for peace. I prayed and I took another breath, and I walked through those elevator doors...
And you know what? It was good. I got to see family and I had a great visit with my grandpa and He granted me the grace and the strength and the peace...all of them...for each moment as they were needed. Tears flowed and laughter erupted and it was a great visit.
I got home and we had a nice family dinner and headed to the beach to light Chinese lanterns and tears are still flowing, but there is peace and there is joy and there is grace...and it is well...it is well with my soul.
