Small comforts

While finding the right words are nigh on impossible for all concerned, we have been blessed by 2 pictures from God that we have been given.

The first was given to Graeme's cousin. In it she saw Graeme's gran cuddling and holding Zoe in heaven. His gran died last year and was the epitome of love, self-sacrifice and nurture. His cousin got this picture several times, starting last Thursday, before we even knew that Zoe had died. What Graeme's cousin could not have known is that my most treasured photograph is of my great-gran holding me as a newborn baby a few weeks before she died. So not only was this picture comforting because it gave us assurance that Zoe is in heaven, and is surrounded by family members who have gone on ahead of us, but it was special because it reminded me of that photograph.

At one point during my insomnia on Friday night, I had a debate with myself about whether I should take the Bible at face value, pray and claim Zoe's resurrection in faith. As I thought through the issue, and whether I had enough faith to believe that God would resurrect her, I felt God firmly, but tenderly, say I wasn't to pursue that course of action. His response wasn't that he wouldn't, or couldn't, but that resurrecting her was not part of his plan and if I pursued it I would only be more hurt. At the time, I wasn't sure whether what I had heard was the product of my own fear of failure in this venture, or whether it truly was God speaking to me. Come Saturday morning though, I thought no more about it until a friend spoke to me on Tuesday about a picture she had had on Friday as she was praying for a miracle for us.

In it, she saw Jesus come down from on high and scoop Zoe up into his arms. As he cuddled her, this friend cried out to him that that wasn't what we wanted - that we wanted a miracle and we wanted her to be given back to us. Firmly, but tenderly, Jesus replied, saying no. This friend commented to me on the beauty of this picture.

For whatever reason, it is now clear to me that God's plan was for Zoe to be with him. It's hard to bear, because I want to know what purpose was served by limiting her life to just 37 weeks. Yet, knowing that she is with God, and with family who have gone before us (that she has already met my great-grandmother whom I never had the chance to know, although she got to see and hold me!), that she is surrounded by love, and that we will see her again one day - this is a comfort. This, to me, is testimony to God's grace. The master of the universe doesn't need to explain himself to me, yet he has taken the time to speak to us through two individuals, letting us know that this was in his plan, and that he loves us and Zoe. I don't know that we will ever be given a reason, or not while we are on this side of heaven, but knowing that God was active in the midst of it is enough for now.

While I'm struggling to come to terms with her loss and having to let her go, I'm hanging on to the knowledge that this is not goodbye, but merely a temporary farewell. She is in a better place - one where she will know the best and greatest of things with none of the worst. She will never know pain, suffering, loneliness, illness or grief. She will never have her heart broken. She will never know abandonment or rejection. Yet, she will know the heights of love and joy, a sense of purpose and fulfillment, and always experience perfect health. She will know greater intimacy with the One who made her than I can imagine, and better fellowship and friendship than I have ever had the privilege to know or experience. As a mother, I can't ask for more for my little girl, even if it means living a lifetime without her.