Priscilla Wall's Weblog

Today I went to a grave-side service. Under the tent, a table stood holding a tiny casket holding two tiny babies, a boy and a girl. It was wickedly cold out. People tried to stay warm with long coats and lap blankets. You could see your breath escaping as you waited for the minister to offer inadequate words for such a heartbreaking occasion. The mother covered in blankets even up to her face where only her eyes were showing, eyes with tears streaming down her face. The father sitting next to her, pain and sorrow showed on his face. Grandparents were surrounding them in an effort to hold them up, yet needing to be held up them selves. Baby Grace and baby Jacob, how can we bear to let them go, I don’t know. But to let them go we must. We know they are safe in the arms of Jesus, but oh how the mother’s arms must ache to hold them yet again. Not enough time to kiss them and say goodbye. I’m not the mother, or the grandmother, yet I feel this loss as if I had a physical connection. I’m thinking back to a special day. I see her sitting beside me being “cubed” as she called it. I am sharing the gospel with her. At first, it was just a pretend presentation to get pictures of a “typical” day at the center. Then, we noticed, the gospel message was touching her heart. Suddenly the pictures were not important any more. As our director silently slipped out to the other room to ask others to pray, She bowed her head and asked Jesus to come into her heart. She instantly became my spiritual daughter, and sister in Christ. We are connected by God’s Spirit. Maybe this is why my heart breaks for her and her husband today.