The Fourth Gift

Since we planned to travel to Texas that Christmas in 2011, we did the "gift-opening"/"special dinner" portion of our celebration on Saturday, December 17th.  Each of us had opened our three gifts we traditionally share each Christmas... Jesus got three gifts from the wise men, so each person in our house also gets three gifts.  As wrapping paper was getting cleaned up, Ron snuck away and reappeared with a FOURTH gift!  Upon opening it, I found a beautiful figurine of a mother holding not one but two little boys in celebration of our son Elliot that would be coming into the world any day.


Fast forward to Friday, December 23, 2011...

The drive home from the hospital was long and quiet.  I no longer had recollection of the previous Saturday, Sunday or Monday - it was somehow lost, never to be found amongst the grief and trauma of our son Elliot passing away, giving birth to him, and holding his sweet little body that produced no tears or no dirty diapers.  As we walked through the door of our home that day, we were lost.  Do we sit?  Do we clean?  Do we need to call anyone?  Did I leave dirty dishes in the sink when we left for the hospital?  Do we have any food in the refrigerator to make our dinner? 

Ron made his way to our bedroom to shower and change clothes, and, as he turned the corner, there sat gleaming on the dresser the most horrifying reminder that things were not as they should be - a figurine of a mother holding not one but two little boys.

Ron grew to hate the figurine feeling like it wasn't a gift at all - it was something that taunted us.  Why had he bought a fourth gift when he was only supposed to buy three?  What should we do with it now - display it, put it back in the box, throw it away?  There seemed to be no appropriate place for something that represented such hurt and pain in our lives.

Today, this figurine is proudly displayed front and center in our home bringing the joy it originally intended... The joy isn't because we now have two boys living under our roof; we displayed the figurine prior to Hyun's homecoming - in my mind there shouldn't be two boys with that mother - there should be three.  It is displayed because it is representative of what we want to share through our testimony.

It is a tangible reminder that the Lord gives and He takes away, yet He is faithful in His word when He says that He works for our good if we love Him.  Ron and I screwed up a lot in our grief - in our patience with each other and others, in knowing how tightly or loosely to hold onto Reese, in being consistently good "leaders" at Celebrate Recovery... but one thing we did well was continued to believe in and love our Lord, and He was/is indeed faithful.

As Ron and I boldly proclaim this testimony to you and many others, it is imperative to understand that it is not the events/circumstances of our lives of today that give us this joy and peace - the circumstances of today are just a bonus to the joy and peace we have found by relying on and coming to know our Lord and Savior so much more intimately through our experiences the past 4 years.  It is my prayer and hope that by being my friend, relative, co-worker or by reading this blog it has somehow helped you to become more acquainted with Jesus and His ways.

"Now may the God of peace Himself sanctify you entirely; and may your spirit and soul and body be preserved complete, without blame at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ.  Faithful is He who calls you, and He also will bring it to pass." 1 Thessalonians 5:23-24

Today, December 21, 2015 is the four year anniversary of when we said goodbye to Elliot.

My Dear Elliot:
I thank God every time I think of you.  Your story and life provided a platform of growth for our family.  As I think of those worshipping around the throne described in the book of Revelation, I imagine that your voice is one of the many constantly singing His praise.  Though I have so desired you to be here in our house, there is no reason to cry over spilled milk or a skinned up knee - You have a perfect place in Heaven.  Love you with the depth that only God could make possible.

Love, Mom