Discovering the Real Jesus in Monroe

On September 25, 1985, my son David died. He was stillborn, and his twin Joshua survived. This happened at the Mid-Michigan Neo-natal center in Sparrow Hospital, Lansing. Every year when we come to this date Linda and I are grateful that Josh made it, and we can’t forget that we have a third son who is no longer with us.

I will also never forget, during that time of gain and loss, of giving and taking away, looking at Linda and agreeing with her that, if we did not have God to turn to, we would be hopeless.

This loss caused me to experience grief in ways I had never had before. Linda and I found out that we grieved differently, and have come to understand that, generally, women grieve differently than do men. How could this not be so, given that the woman carries the inborn child for months and forms a bond that a father could never really relate to? For me, my grief came like powerful thunderstorms with lightning that rolled in unexpectedly, with patches of blue sky that increased in duration over the months. And even now, 22 years after our gain-loss, a little storm can come upon me when I think of this. For Linda, her grief was like a long, long Michigan winter with continual gray skies, until finally some sun and blue sky began to show.

As for me, I became a “man of sorrows, acquainted with grief.” Not, of course, in the way Jesus the Christ was. But now I looked at people differently. The HOPING group at Sparrow Hospital asked me to speak, twice a year, to parents who lost their babies. And Linda and I were put in touch with some of them and talked with them and shared their grief. I was now a pastor to people in pain.

Linda and I would tell these loving parents about the hope we found in God and Jesus, and the difference it made in our lives. After all, if God did not exist, then there’s really little or nothing to “hope” for when it comes to the life of the child who is gone. “Hope” implies “expectation.” Hoping people are expectant people. This is radically different from “wishing” people. “Wishing” is a passive life-stance. If God was not real, all we’d have is “wishing.” The active hope in Linda and I is that we will see our son David again. This hope is based on the real, historical resurrection of Jesus. We are filled with expectancy. A day is coming when all of this, too, shall be made right.

My hope is based on a God who made us and loves us. This includes children. We see this exemplified in Matthew 19:13-15. “Then little children were brought to Jesus for him to place his hands on them and pray for them. But the disciples rebuked those who brought them. Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.” When he had placed his hands on them, he went on from there.”

On Saturday Linda and I were privileged to speak and sing about the God who loves us and gives us hope at the Tomorrow’s Child walk at Munson Park. We gathered with many parents who lost babies to SIDS and other supporters. This was a true God-thing for me, and I am grateful for the local leadership that works hard to save the lives of babies. And I am certain that these babies are now with God. This inner certainty allows me to get through the stormy dark times when grief makes an appearance in my heart.