April 13 has changed a lot over the last 8 years. I was up early today, cutting dogwood blossoms to put in a mason jar. Each year, the dogwoods bloom right around Eva Grace’s birthday. Like a lot of mornings, we talked about Eva Grace with our kids. She comes up way more than I would have expected. Camp especially thinks of, and wants to talk about, his, “big sister who lives in heaven”. We’ve covered everything from what she looked like, the condition she she suffered from, and most importantly we talk about where she lives now with Jesus. No matter the day, it moves us when our kids tell us how the look forward to meeting sweet Eva Grace someday. We all long for that reunion.
There is a strangeness to April 13 as the years have passed. Different house, different job, 4 more kids…. same obnoxious shedding dog though! It felt like we were kids when we lost Eva Grace. We didn’t know people who had lost kids. We do now. We have sung hymns of hope through bitter tears alongside of others who have experienced the same kind of loss. Back then it seemed like putting a foot in front of the other was impossible. I could not imagine putting any kind of “life” back together. Now there is little room for “quiet” (cuz 4 kids). I mean most of the time MW can’t even use the bathroom without having to hold a child…. But, we are so thankful for our kids. Just today I looked at the whispy curls around Wynnie’s ears and thought to myself, “That looks just like Eva Grace’s little curls”. Truthfully, I never could have imagined the heights of joy and love that we would experience in the last 8 years. Neither could I imagine the persistent pain of losing her.
Today even in the noise of a life overflowing, we are stopped in our tracks to remember our girl. Over the years I’ve built a dam that holds behind it a deep and powerful flood. Most of the time, we talk about her and that water is a small peaceful stream. Again, we talk about Eva Grace all the time and it’s always with joy! Today you just have to let the floodgates open and be swept up in it all.
I make Spotify playlists for each of our kids, and one of her songs is, “How Deep The Father’s Love”. Specifically the line, “how great the pain of searing loss, the Father turns his face away” hits me hard every time I hear it. I know that Jesus really meant it when he said, “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.” I know it because he gave his life for me, for Eva Grace, for all of us. For now, we mourn. While we feel the ache of the searing loss of Eva Grace, a loss that hurts as much today as ever, we really do find comfort in God who knows exactly how it feels to see your child die. We fix our eyes on a promise. A promise, that soon we will arrive on eternity’s shores. I can’t wait to see Eva Grace there, kiss her again, and spend forever worshipping God alongside of her.
Habakuk 3:17-18
“Even though the fig trees have no blossoms,
and there are no grapes on the vines;
even though the olive crop fails,
and the fields lie empty and barren;
even though the flocks die in the fields,
and the cattle barns are empty,
yet I will rejoice in the Lord!
I will be joyful in the God of my salvation!”