On this day six years ago, we knew we were most likely spending our final hours here on earth with our daughter. Even now, there are times when I still don’t quite believe it happened, but there’s always a harsh return to reality.
I remember being so frightened- almost to the point of not being able to breathe- when I thought about what it would be like when the doctors disconnected our Hannah Grace from the machine keeping her alive. The medical staff could not really tell us how it would go- how many hours her respiratory system would hold on. The fear of the unknown is the worst kind of fear for me- the kind that lets my thoughts run wild and my trust sometimes falter.
Today, my thoughts are drawn to Mary and the fear she must have felt as she traveled with Joseph to Bethlehem. This young, ordinary girl knew she was going to give birth to the Messiah; I can only imagine the questions in her heart. And as they arrived and she knew it was time to deliver the one who would deliver us only to find no available rooms…what were those final moments like as they took shelter in a stable?
I fast forward to Jesus as a man crying out to God in the Garden of Gethsemane. He knew his final hours were approaching; he asked his father to let this cup pass from him while, at the same time, accepting God’s will for his life and death. In Matthew, Jesus told his disciples, “My soul is very sorrowful, even to death…”. As I felt sorrow I never thought was even possible listening to my child struggle to breathe, I knew God understood completely the depths of my sadness and grief. He watched his Son endure horrible pain on the cross for me.
As I walk through the next days reliving the worst ones of my life, I’m clinging to the hope I find in Jesus. Hope that one day, my last few hours will be spent here, and then I will see Jesus face to face…perhaps with a little freckled nose, dark headed little girl peeking around him to welcome her momma into eternity.