The Funeral
Approximately seven years ago I heard a song titled "Blessed Be Your Name." It is an incredible worship song declaring that I, as a follower of Christ, will worship the God who loves me-- who is more than enough--in the good times and in the bad. In the blessings and the trials.
I remember vividly the day I sang it at our church in Panama City Beach, Florida holding Hannah on my hip and overflowing from pregnancy with Benjamin. I remember thinking to myself, I pray that if I ever lose a child (the worst thing I could ever imagine happening) I will be able to sing this song.
Some of the verses and chorus:
Blessed be Your name
When the sun's shining down on me
When the world's 'all as it should be'
Blessed be Your name
Blessed be Your name
On the road marked with suffering
Though there's pain in the offering
Blessed be Your name
Every blessing You pour out
I'll turn back to praise
When the darkness closes in, Lord
Still I will say
Blessed be the name of the Lord...
You give and take away
You give and take away
My heart will choose to say
Lord, blessed be Your name
See, it's easy to stand in sunny Panama City Beach and sing Blessed Be Your Name while you take in your regular income, relish wonderful friendships, bask in the sunshine, fellowship and witness baptisms in the pristine waters at the beach, get on your boat with your family, meet for regular playdates. I could never sing that song before without changing the words a little "...when the darkness closes in, Lord, please let me say, blessed be the name of the Lord."
On August 15th we had a graveside service with most of our family present. I wish I could express what it meant to me to have so much of my family by my side. People traveled many hours to stand with us, encircle us, secure us, and remind us we are not alone in this loss. My family read every word of my blog, and they walked this journey with me. And by family, I mean my immediate family as well as aunts, uncles, cousins, and in-laws.
Arriving at the graveside was the first time I had been in the same space as my daughter, Lydia since she was born and quickly taken to another room for evaluation. We had not held her or seen her. It was the right decision. But pulling up to the graveside, I completely lost my breath. Nothing, not even Amy could prepare me for the size of her little casket.
I completely hyperventilated and wasn't sure I was going to be able to pull it together in order to get out of the car. I know Jeff was concerned because as we settled to begin the memorial the Pastor had to tell him that he had left the car running. He's never seen me in such a state, of that I am sure because I have never seen me in such a state.
The pastor who officiated the service spoke words of encouragement and hope. We sang Jesus Draw Me Ever Nearer. The pastor read Psalm 34, a psalm of God's goodness that I read again and again throughout our journey. Jeff spoke briefly to let our family know how much their caring lifted us through this time. And with a quivering voice I have never heard come from my mouth, I read a letter to Lydia:
Sweet Lydia Grace~
My heart aches standing here fulfilling earthly traditions necessary for our earthly understanding and closure, yet in my spirit I know you're not here. But, in fact, you are in a place that is incredibly beautiful, radically colorful, and unimaginably joyful.
But I am here, left in this hurting world that groans as it longs for peace and restoration which only comes from being where you are---in His presence.
And I overflow with gratitude for your life--for the short time I had the privilege of carrying your sweet soul. Because along that short road, Jesus met me, walked beside me, girded me up and showed me just how genuinely and deeply I believe in Him. He proved my faith to me.
Through your life, Lydia, I have been freed from fear. I truly believe now that no matter what the future holds, God will prepare me for it, go with me through it, counsel me during it, and be faithful in all of it. I have seen How perfectly He loves me in trial, and I've learned how to lean into him and shut the doors on the unknowns of tomorrow and rest in each today and the countless gifts each day has to offer. And when the days feel full of just plain SUCK--I can rest in the promise of His goodness.
Most of all, Lydia, I've learned how small each of us are in the grand scheme of things and how meaningless my life is without the knowledge of God and all of the traits that make up his character.
Through the things you've taught me, I will carry you every day of my life and give thanks for every day of yours.
Rest in his peace, sweet Lydia, and I will, too.
And as if fulfilling one of my deepest desires, The Lord allowed me to sing those words I wondered if I'd ever have the faith to sing. In spirit and in truth I sang the the words I prayed I'd be able to sing when I bore my own cross: "when the darkness closes in Lord, still I will say, blessed be the name of the Lord."
I couldn't have imagined a more precious way to honor my sweet daughter's life than to acknowledge the destiny that she fulfilled in her short life: she has helped God mold me into a woman who can walk confidently with Him with no fear of the future because no matter what happens, in the midst of it God has given me the gift of faith which empowers me to sing, Blessed be the name of the Lord.
In Christ,
Erin