Rest in Peace, Little Warrior

What is it about personal tragedies that inescapably draw me near them?  Virtually all of the blogs I follow from people I do not know personally are written by women who have experienced a hardship that I can only imagine.  Why?  All of these bloggers I follow are also admirable women of faith, who admittedly survive each day only by the grace of God.  They take their personal tragedy and use it for God’s glory.  They inspire me, they challenge me, they show me the power of prayer and how we can rise again from the ashes.

I stumbled upon this blog early last week.  It is written by a woman who has a toddler and triplet infant boys.  Whoa.   For that reason alone I’d be inclined to read her blog so I can maintain my perspective.  She, however, has a more important story to tell.  On May 21st she found one of her infant sons, Owen, unresponsive in his crib.  She gave him CPR herself.  In the following days, I was glued to her blog, captivated by the horrific experiences she was enduring and more so by the relentless hope she was placing in her Savior.  She wrote this the day after the ordeal began when his future was still unknown:

Do not be afraid.  Mommy is here.

Lord, I’m afraid.  My heart flutters a little.  Be with my Owen.  Rub his back, pat his diaper butt like I did.  He really liked his nook when he was upset so make sure he has one.  His bed is full of stuffed animals.  Let him snuggle with whichever he wants.  Hoochy chooch his thighs and give me 27183 kisses from both Doug and I.  Be with him.  Don’t let my Owen feel fear or pain.

Reading those words brings tears to my eyes.  I do the same diaper butt pat, thigh hoochy chooch, kiss smothering, nook inserting every day with my Max.  What if I suddenly couldn't love on my precious baby any longer?  What if I had to instead pass him into the arms of Jesus, long before I should have to? 

She writes with staggering eloquence and I imagine this is partially why an enormous following has been created.  Her courage is something I aspire to contain. 

After being pronounced brain dead, Owen was taken from life support while his heart was still beating.  I can only imagine my son, who happens to be the same exact age as Owen, being wheeled away while his heart beat strongly within his chest.  They needed to keep him alive because he was providing organ donation.  His tiny heart, lungs, kidneys, and liver were compassionately donated to three individuals in need. 

If you feel drawn, I encourage you to read this blog.  It is easier for me to shield my eyes and pretend that life is full of puppies, rainbows, and happy endings.  Life is indeed full of rainbows, but they only show after a storm.

Pray for this dear family.  I believe that God can, and does, make good out of these tragic circumstances.  May that good be hundreds, even thousands, of people that are brought nearer to Jesus through this poor woman who is experiencing more sorrow than I pray I ever find myself enduring.