I have never wanted to be a blogger until this morning (10/23). For some reason I awoke feeling the need to share this journey. My four year old daughter was killed in a tragic car accident on October 8th, 2010 when our car was struck by a teen on marijuana. This blog is a small window into the brokenness of my heart and perhaps... one day, the healing. Do not mistake this for theological discourse. Jesus, not our circumstances, equals perfect theology. Be warned, this is raw...
In a few minutes it will be your 11th birthday! We started celebrating you tonight. I brought home tiny chocolate cupcakes after work, and we ate them before dinner. The girls and I decided you would have liked that! Your sister’s decided they want to send their balloons they got at the Mother Daughter Tea up to heaven to you tomorrow. It was completely their idea! Abby wants to tie a french fry on hers because you loved fries. I guess she thinks you’d like a little french fry snack in heaven!
She also told me that a boy at school told her he was in love with her today. Oh kindergarten! It reminded me that you came home one day saying your sweet friend Isaiah had asked you to marry him on the playground, and you said yes because you loved him. It also made me wonder what sort of conversations we would be having now if you were finishing up the fifth grade. Would we be chatting about boys or sports or dance?
Tonight I read the girls part of a book that Emmy and PawPaw gave you on your last Christmas- The Little Red Book with the Big Red Letters. It’s about a little book who has to find out his purpose… Emmy wrote in the front that God has big plans for you, Makiah. And the words sort of grabbed me tonight. If we believe the bible and we believe Jeremiah 29:11, then truly God’s plans for us transcend death. What kind of powerful God would he be if His plans were limited to this short, frail life on earth? I could feel the sting of the words begin to recede a bit. Of course God has big plans for you… still! Because this is just the prelude. And God’s divine intent for each of us extends beyond the constraints of time and place. We pray, “Your kingdom come. Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” Why would Jesus say to pray this? Because heaven and God’s kingdom are awesome, and purposeful, and exciting, and adventurous, and full of love and connection and perfect grace. All the things we long for here. They aren’t lacking in any way.
When I think of heaven, all that you are missing here pales in comparison. I know that God created you for many beautiful purposes, Makiah. Although I only have glimpses here, I believe. And I know one day I will see. Together. With you. When I was pregnant with you, before I even knew you were a girl, a lady spoke over you that you were going to be an Esther. Surely you were beautiful. And I have not unpacked all the meaning yet. But Esther interceded to the King on behalf of her people. Prayer is but talking with God. And I know you do that. Probably sometimes on behalf of your loved ones still on earth. Revelation tells us the martyrs cry out to God to intervene on the earth. Who knows but that you have come to your royal position but for such a time as this? I can only speculate what earthly matters your prayers from heaven may have changed.
I know more and more with each passing year, that your birth and death have solidified in me more than any other experience the revelation that Jesus is who He says He is, and He does what He said He would do. Save, heal, restore. Beauty for ashes. Exchange garments of mourning for the the garments of praise. I know you know, my dear. But my eyes still see dimly. Shout with me little one. Although we are apart in body, in both of our hearts we can proclaim the truth. We can do the only thing that lasts. Make plain His offer of love and life to all those whose hearts are still broken or searching or not sure if it can be real. Your story. Our story. It is not all tears and sadness. It is hope and certainty. And a peace that surpasses understanding. A peace that guards my heart and mind. I will lend it my fingers and together we will lend it our prayers.
I love you my oldest little one. My precious precocious one whose name means “who is like Yahweh?” My first baby. My pre-teen. My one who loves to dance and loves Jesus and chocolate and “tiny fings” and hair all the way down to the ground. My sunshine who woke up singing and happy and loved to pop up beside my bed and say “The sun is up! It’s time to get up!” My little who touched my face with her hands so carefully on our last morning. Who said I was perfect for trying. Bringer of joy and miracles that we have only begun to see. For if I have been set free from the darkness, how many more are there to come? Promised one. Who still lives. With Him. Happy birthday from one who wouldn’t trade our four years, four months, and four weeks for anything!