Nine months. Forty weeks. Two hundred and eighty days. That’s the timeframe for normal pregnancies.
In each of my two pregnancies, I delivered a healthy baby boy. The only trouble I had in my pregnancies was continual, extreme nausea called, “hyperemesis gravidarum.”
Sonograms were not offered before the birth of our oldest son, and they were used only for “problems” during my second pregnancy. I did have a sonogram early on at that time, but they saw no problems with the baby.
The problem was with me! Because of the nausea, I lost a lot of weight early on in both pregnancies, so my doctors were not concerned when I went past my due date. They figured those babies needed a little more time to grow.
I am told they do not let babies go over term now; they consider it almost as dangerous as some preterm pregnancies. But they just let me roll on as long as I could. In fact, our oldest son Jacob was due in late December, but he was born 23 days later. Honestly! Our youngest son, Chris, was born exactly one week past his due date.
So … I shared this unpleasant information to make a point: The God-given miracle of human life comes through nine months of gestation. Nine months. Forty weeks. Two hundred and eighty days.
Lately, I have been contemplating that timeframe and remembering how excited I was during my pregnancies. I could hardly wait to meet my baby. I spent hours wondering what he or she would look like. I rubbed my growing belly, longing for a healthy child, and praying we would be good parents. Countless times, I spoke lovingly to my child, describing all the family members waiting to meet him.
During my second pregnancy, Jacob would stretch out beside me and talk to Chris. Jacob spoke of all the things they would do together, like riding bikes, playing baseball, fishing, and hunting.
Yes, Jacob’s prayers for a brother were answered. He and Chris and their dad spent hours in the woods and on lakes, and only God knows the hours we spent together on baseball diamonds, football fields, and basketball courts.
As I smile and think of those precious memories, I am much too aware that those recollections are ALL we have left of Chris here on earth, and that realization is relentless. Our family will only be complete again when Jesus welcomes Randy, Jacob, and me into Heaven.
I am so grateful for that blood-bought promise of eternal life with Jesus Christ. He is the one who willingly forgave me of my countless sins and washed me clean and free by His own sinless sacrifice on the Cross of Calvary. What love! What mercy! What absolute grace!
I also know that He blessed me with a steadfast husband of over four decades, a man who loves God and his family and shows that love through continual sacrifice and service. And God gave us two sons, both of whom grew up to love the Lord. And the one who has gone Home before us was a constant and vocal witness of God’s goodness, even during six years battling leukemia.
So I go to bed each night knowing that my son is safe with his Savior. I know he left his wife, kids, family, friends, students, and athletes a legacy built on that Savior, Jesus Christ. Truly, Chris made sure that everyone he loved knew about the gift of salvation available through Jesus.
Yes. I am blessed; I know that without a doubt.
But the past nine months, forty weeks, and two hundred and eighty days since Chris died have not been so pleasant. In truth, it has been hard!
These past nine months were not months of joyful expectation. They were not spent rubbing my growing belly or dreaming of a beautiful baby boy soon to be born and held. Quite the opposite, it has been a time of emptiness in many ways, a longing for a place and people that I cannot and will not ever touch again this side of Heaven.
But according to the very definition of the word, these past nine months have been a time of gestation. During these long, tear-filled nine months of longing to see my son, hear his voice, and feel his arms around me again, I believe it has been and will continue to be a “period between conception and birth.”
Stay with me for a minute!
I really think grief of this depth has to birth something. Surely, it will produce something. But the question is … what?
Actually, I think the answer lies in Who – not what.
There’s only one Who can deliver me through this unspeakable time of mourning and bring me out on the other side with something beautiful to show for my pain and grief.
Isaiah 61 makes this promise throughout the entire chapter, but the third verse says Jesus has come specifically “to appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they might be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that He might be glorified” (KJV).
Let that sink in: God promises beauty, joy, and praise will come out of our grief. He promises that Randy, Jacob, and I will one day walk out of this deep sorrow like righteous trees planted by the Lord Himself. We will stand steadfast despite forever missing Chris while on Earth.
Yet, that last line is the key, “that HE might be glorified.”
No! It’s not Chris’ death that will bring glory to God, even though all who witnessed it saw Christ in every moment. Even the last word our precious boy ever spoke was, “Jesus.”
But the life Chris lived up until that very last word – that last breath – totally magnified His Savior. That’s the real glory for God.
That – and the fact that God will hold and keep our family in the palm of His nail-scarred hand, even in this valley of sorrow. And when it is all said and done, I believe that innumerable souls will come to know and serve Jesus because of this experience.
I see it even now as I watch Chris’ baseball players live loudly for the Lord. Those young men (and every student Chris taught) have witnessed the absolute glory of God in this time. They are forever changed. Who knows what God will do in their lives? We might see the next Billy Graham rise from that group of young men. I pray so!
So even though I am not where I want to be, and I am not and never will be what I was before Chris died, I can still declare these last two verses (10-11) of Isaiah 61:
I will greatly rejoice in the Lord, my soul shall be joyful in my God; for He hath clothed me with the garments of salvation, He hath covered me with the robe of righteousness, as a bridegroom decketh himself with ornaments, and as a bride adorneth herself with her jewels.
For as the earth bringeth forth her bud, and as the garden causeth the things that are sown in it to spring forth; so the Lord God will cause righteousness and praise to spring forth before all the nations.
With this hope-filled promise in mind, I pray for a great harvest to “spring forth,” for souls to be saved by Jesus Christ, millions and millions of them.
All for the glory of God.
