Precious Baby Girl

My day. 

My day has been fine, nothing out of the ordinary. I've showered, played with  my kids, made breakfast, taken Noah to "school", spent time with a friend, had lunch with another friend, tutored 4 kids, and enjoyed the brisk chill in the air.

But who cares?

 

Surely not our sweet friend's the Rushes'.  Their 3 1/2 month old daughter, Ryane, passed away yesterday.  We received news that their precious, lively little girl had gone to be with our Jesus. What, you ask, happened. They really aren't sure. When her daddy went to pick her up from day care, he pulled around an ambulance to enter the building only to find that it was HIS baby they were there on behalf of. What an awful, awful day. They still are not sure what took her from them. Choking on an object, or merely the breathing subsided? They don't know.  

My heart hurts so much.  My mommy-love is aghast. I just don't know how you pick up the pieces.  

Ryane was a month and a half younger than Kayt, therefore we journeyed through our pregnancies together.  They were sweet to think of our arrival in the midst of preparing for their daughter.  We, of course, did the same for them. Sending gifts and sweet notes of love and encouragement. We even spoke about how precious it would be when we were well along in years, both dropping our girls of to be Red Raiders. (Seeing as that's how we met the two of them, at Tech) We agreed we would sob together as our little princess parted from our homes of provision to make a life of their own.

But somehow their little blessing left their home before anyone intended. So, I sob with them now. 

Only she will not step into the classroom at a university, rather onto streets of gold. Nor will she ever walk down the aisle to meet her groom, but rather sit in the lap of her bridegroom. Though mommy and daddy won't rock her to sleep another night, Jesus will. Or maybe Paul. Or the Great-Grandfather she never met.  Have you ever wondered what kind of lullaby the angels sing? Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty. My heart tells me that heaven's lullaby's are more beautiful than mine could ever be.  And my mind knows Jesus' love reaches a greater level than a parent's can ever dream of. 

Although true, do those thoughts heal a wounded heart? Does it give clarity to a situation without an answer? Thankfully for us, when we don't have the answer Jesus reminds us that he IS the answer.  Just Jesus. 

But the thought run ramped in my mind. Why not us? Why them? My baby. Oh how I love my babies. How? How do you arise the next morning when your heart seems to heavy to lift from the pillow?  My fingers tremble while I attempt to envision the pain the must be feeling. Although I can try, I cannot feel their pain. And to be frank, I hope I never do.

So pray with me.

Please! 

Take a moment and pray for the Lord's peace over the Rush household. 

If I were in this situation, I would want everyone petitioning heaven on my behalf. 

Even strangers. 

Now go. 

Play.

Read.

Laugh. 

Tickle.

Make Messes.

Let the Laundry Go.

I bet my friends wish they could.

But their hearts are too heavy, too grief stricken. So let sweet Ryane's life touch you. May it spur us all on toward knowing Jesus more, enjoying life, and remembering that the days are fleeting and our lives are but a vapor. 

Sweet Jesus, I beg and plead for your peace to flood the hearts of this wounded mommy and daddy.  Remind them your love is sufficient. Please rock their tired bodies and whisper sweet lullaby's of love into their aching hearts. Holy Spirit intercede for this Saint who has no appropriate words to pray.