For the past two days, I’ve been writing devotions for the “Death of a Child” section of my book. I feel quite presumptuous writing devotions designed to comfort parent who have lost children. What right do I have to approach the subject as the parent whose two children are living?
I’m somewhat qualified to write the other sections of the book – Diagnosis, Hospital Life, Juggling Two Worlds, Caring for a Chronically Ill Child, and Surviving Childhood illness – but for this one section, I feel wholly inadequate. But the publishers want the issue addressed, and it would be unrealistic to write a book for parents or critically and chronically ill children without addressing the reality of childhood death.
So I am exceedingly grateful to the parents who have lost children and agreed to be interviewed. Their experience are poignant and joyful, grief-stricken and hopeful. As their stories weave in and out of the devotions, the grace and wisdom of parents who have suffered much and still pronounce life good amazes me.
I cry when I think about writing their stories. I cry as I write their stories. I cry as I think of what these parents have suffered and how willingly they share their children’s stories with newly bereaved parents. I cry when I think of how this book, full of their stories, honors the lives and deaths of children no longer on this earth. I cry when I think about how God has used these stories to cover my inadequacy.
I reach for the tissues and pray for the parents who have lost children, who are about to lose children, and for the children who are dying. I pray for my children, both living, grateful for my inadequacy in this subject area. Keep my children safe, I pray. Keep me wholly inadequate.
Please, Lord, please.
