Of Showers and Funerals

Last night my girls and I attended a celebration at our church for a new mother. Naturally, she brought along her sweet little newborn son.

Today all of the children accompanied me back to church for a funeral. This, too, for a little babe.

Last night there was laughter and joy, and much passing around of the little boy, dressed in soft jammies.

Today was for choking back tears, or just letting them run down your cheeks, unheeded. At the end of the service, the eldest, her brother, carefully carried his little sister down the aisle, encased in a wee white casket.

Last night was a time to rejoice in the firstborn, to admire the first grandchild. He will have no lack for love, nor will he want for Godly instruction.

Today we unashamedly wept with a mom, a dad, five siblings and assembled relatives. This little one was also loved, is mourned, but now enjoys the very presence of God.

Last night we heard the story of how the new father delivered his own son in the hospital. They had to remind him to cut the cord. (Did I mention he's an EMT?) It's easy to excuse a brief absence of mind, though, in the midst of extraordinary circumstances.

Today I was reminded of how doctors repeatedly encouraged termination of this pregnancy, after tests revealed a baby less than perfect. It is hard to fathom the mindset of those who think some babies (or adults) are worthy of life, and others are not.

Two birthdays. So happy for one family. So sad for another.

Welcome to the world, Jacob Daniel.

We'll see you in heaven, Hilda Suzanne.

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