There is nothing quite as enjoyable for a grandma than to grab a good book, a comfy blanket, a cherished grandchild, and spend a few moments sharing a story together. I read Goodnight Moon to my granddaughter with such frequency that even my aging brain had the words memorized. But I dreaded when my young charges selected a book by Theodor Seuss Geisel, aka, Dr. Seuss. The trademarks of his fun books confer two obvious facts: a. kids love the crazy words and amusing rhyme patterns unique to his writing, and b. adult’s struggle reading aloud those crazy words and amusing rhyme patterns unique to his writing. Among my favorite Seuss stories revolves around an unsuspecting elephant, Horton, who is bathing himself when he hears a cry originating from a speck, a speck which turns out to be an entire planet floating about desperately seeking protection. Though they shout to the top of their lungs, they can’t be heard, except by Horton, who becomes the advocate of the vulnerable, teeny Who civilization.
A person’s a person no matter how small is a famous quote from the classic Horton Hears a Who! That simple, yet poignant, phrase holds a deep spot in my heart. When my husband and I began our journey together many decades ago, we desired a family, a quiver full of children to love and to cherish. Our first pregnancy in the summer of 1978 brought unbelievable joy to our hearts, and before that little life even had a chance to grow, we began selecting nursery equipment, purchasing maternity clothes, and planning our new life as a family of three. Little did we know that we would never hold that precious life in our arms, he or she would leave my body prematurely and enter into the presence of God. I recently met a woman who shared with me that she had suffered four lost pregnancies before she birthed her first newborn. I looked deeply into her eyes and recognized it, the silent pain of miscarriage. I felt her loss, the heart-wrenching pain of what might have been, the loneliness of shattered dreams and empty arms. How does such grief find comfort?
“For thou hast possessed my reins: thou hast covered me in my mother’s womb…my substance was not hid from thee…thine eyes did see my substance, yet being imperfect; and in THY BOOK ALL MY MEMBERS WERE WRITTEN.” My comfort is in the blessed truth that God hand-formed that little life, a life that is a living soul, a soul that now stands in the presence of his or her Creator. That small, unborn life exists, now and for eternity, and someday soon I will be reunited with that little one.
Psalm 139:14 I will praise thee, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made:
Dear Lord, all that assuages the grief of that lost life is the fact that one day a great reunion will be ours. Thank You for being the author of life, delicately forming each small life, life that is precious to You.