“We lost him,” said a text message from my son-in-law.
“Nooooooooooooooooo!” I moaned as I ran downstairs to the Preacher. He stood in his office dazed and confused, tears brimming – he was holding his phone with the same text message. We fell into each others arms and sobbed. Our grandson, our little William Charles, had prematurely entered the world – dead. There were no warning signs, nothing to prepare us; in a matter of minutes our William was gone. Gone before we ever had a chance to know him.
That is not what we prayed for.
For many years my husband, the Preacher, has dealt with complications due to diabetes. We’ve lost count of how many times paramedics have saved his life. Throughout the years we have prayed,
“Lord please let the Preacher live to see his children graduate from High School.”
Then it became, “Lord please let the Preacher perform his children's weddings.”
And then, “Lord, please let the Preacher know his grandchildren.”
And God, in His goodness, said, “Yes” to each prayer.
But one thing we never dreamed of, and certainly didn’t ask for, is to bury a grandchild. Yet that’s just what the Preacher did a few days ago. Here is a picture of him conducting a graveside service for our little William Charles, while big sister Anna sits on the bench.
Anna parked herself on the bench without any promptings. She looked up at Opa and asked, "Are we going to see William?" "Not today Anna, " Opa answered tenderly. "Why?" Anna wanted to know.
And
thus began a dialogue between Opa and Anna in front of the graveside
crowd. He lovingly explained to Anna about the resurrection of the
dead. About our hope in Jesus. She didn’t understand it all, but it was
such a precious scene. A grandfather explaining to his granddaughter,
“We will get to see and play with William one day.”
No it wasn't what we dreamed of or prayed for, but then again, it is what we prayed for - that we could pass on our faith to our children's children.
We don't sorrow like those who have no hope. 1 Thess. 4:13
© Kinsey Oglesby, June 2015
