4 months ago our baby girl Ruby Fox Darling passed away the day she was born, due to a fluke. She wasn't sick, her body was perfectly formed and ready for a long, healthy life but, one simple complication turned that dream of a beautiful future into a nightmare (I wrote about this in my blog "Grief Is Never Fair"). Since then I have wrestled with life questions that, most of the time, seem far more powerful than my frail self. I have carried sorrow around with me till my arms and back and legs have grown heavy. Every now and then I've been able to put sorrow down and have a moment of burden free peace but then, while I am tucking my 5 year old Scarlett into bed, she whispers, "Momma, I know that the doctors didn't make Ruby sick and I know that Ruby's birth mommy didn't make her sick...was it God who did it?" I gather Scarlett and sorrow back up into my arms and weep saying, "No. No. No. God is the one in charge of making things right, not making things wrong."
I have been keeping a grief journal. It is a place where I can write down my most secret and raw and honest thoughts about living in the aftermath of loosing our child. This journal, thin and grey, has been inside my regular journal, waiting for when I needed it, every time I opened my purse for the last four months. A week ago I decided to move it. I switched it from a place where I constantly see it, to a shelf, where I can go to find it but it will not be constantly at my side. I was proud of myself and wrote an entry in it saying so. My heart is slowly mending and I didn't want the constant thin and grey reminder of life's brokenness at my fingertips.
6 days ago my husband and I sat down to a Sunday afternoon lunch and, after ordering, we discovered that our dear friends in San Diego had their first child, Mazelle Joy Davis. She is a child whose conception was rejoiced over. A child who's gender was giggled over. A child who's arrival was ready to be celebrated by many, far and wide. A child who's body grew perfectly formed, marvelously made, ready for a long and healthy life, but, on Sunday, she arrived in the same way our Ruby arrived, with only a handful of breaths to call her own.
On Tuesday May 27th, her mother and father had to tell her goodbye even though they had only, just days before, said hello.
It is wrong.
It is so very, very wrong.
This life system is messed up and wrong.
It is so horribly broken that I want to scream and kick and weep and claw and scratch and scream some more.
Tuesday night I was talking with my husband about our friends and the grief they were enduring. Once again, I dug up old questions and turned them around to inspect them, looking for their answers. Once again I found nothing, BUT I noticed something huddled close to the questions: a deep deep longing for things to be made right.
Why do I want things to be a certain way?
Why do I want my child to live and not pass away the day she is born? Because it is wrong!
Why do my friends weep over their daughter's last breaths? Because it is wrong!
Why do daughters grieve over the loss of their young fathers? Because it is wrong!
Why do we ache and break apart and stumble around with death's invasion into our lives?
BECAUSE IT IS WRONG.
There is a longing, buried deep inside of each of us, for wrongs to be made right. That longing whispers to us when we watch the news or miss an opportunity or are ignored or slighted. That longing also shouts at us when we lose a loved one. Why do we long? Is there an ending to this thing we can't control, that we can't pay off, hide from or change? Can we turn off and stop the longing? No, not in this lifetime, but we can listen to it.
This longing for things to be made right is an echo.
This longing is a huge billboard sign.
This longing, and the grief we bear when it goes unfulfilled, is the fingerprint we need in order to know that there is an ultimate Right.
We are right to expect something more than death and it's wrongness.
We are right to scream at it's absence.
We are right to weep over it's delay.
With every aching heart beat I have over the loss of little baby Mazelle and the suffering of her parents, our friends, I will remember, this feeling of wrongness and extreme longing for rightness is pointing me towards something. Mazelle's life is shouting, "Look! Expect! See! Hear! Long after! Chase after Rightness." Rightness has a Name. That which we long for has made Himself known AND He has made Himself and His Kingdom of Rightness available to us. His name is Jesus and He promises there will be no more weeping, there will be no more death, there will be no more darkness or hiding or running away or sickness or fear or loneliness or sorrow because He will make all things right, just as we ache for it to be. Rightness will be fulfilled. Our yearning will end. Our longing has a deadline. Mazelle, tiny, perfectly made beauty, your life is a banner of hope waving among any and all who have even only glimpsed you.
Trevor and Heidi, your longing will end with fulfillment, though you are right to ache and weep until it does.
Daughters and sons, Mothers and Fathers, Husbands and Wives, Friends and Families, your longing for all the wrongs in your life to be made right will end justly, though you are right to kick, scream and cry until it does.
Your suffering is not without a purpose. Your grief is not pointless or wrong, nor will it go on forever.
Ecclesiastes 3:11 says, "He also has planted eternity in men’s hearts and minds [a divinely implanted sense of a purpose working through the ages which nothing under the sun but God alone can satisfy]..."
Let your tears point you towards what your heart and mind is expecting and hoping and aching for, Rightness/Jesus and know that you will, one day, be fully satisfied. You will ache no more.
If you would like to reach out and love on Heidi and Trevor in a hands on way, please join me in donating to cover the costs of all the unplanned expenses they will now need to meet. You can give on the YouCaring page that has been set up for them (link below) as well as watch a video of Trevor and Heidi telling their story: