Christmas Tears
Stories
Sharing Visions
Divine Revelations, Angels, And Holy Coincidences
I think nothing breaks our hearts as badly as does the broken hearts of our children. My daughter, Melissa, moved back in with my husband and I just before Thanksgiving. Her husband had left her and wanted nothing to do with the baby they were expecting.
In the early morning hours of Christmas Eve Day, as the world prepared to celebrate the birth of the Babe of Bethlehem, I held my daughter's hand as she gave birth to a premature stillborn child, due to a separated placenta. Baby Afton Long was born and died on Christmas Eve Day.
As I held my stillborn grandchild, my daughter, with a broken heart and tear-filled eyes, looked up at me and said, "Mom, I know we can't baptize the baby -- but can you give my baby a blessing?" As she named her baby, we prayed together. Then she held her baby so tenderly, marveling at how perfectly formed the baby was: ten toes, ten fingers. Through it all, a song from the Christmas Eve cantata kept echoing in my mind. "Be Exalted, O God."
Yet, in the midst of great tragedy, there were tears of joy.
After notifying family members by phone, my father's closing words to me were, "Remember, Christmas still happens. Christ still comes." He was so right. God's abundant grace has indeed been with us.
The hospital staff and Melissa's obstetrician were truly God's hands of compassion that night. They were wonderful. The Senior Pastor at the church, where my husband (who is my daughter's stepfather, as her dad died six years ago) serves as Associate Pastor, offered to let my husband preach at my Christmas Eve services, so that I could continue to be with my daughter. It gave us precious time together to cry, to pray, and for me just to sit and hold her while she cried and slept. So many people -- friends, family, church members -- have offered their prayers and condolences. It got us through the first night. Then, Christmas morning, my council president and his fiancé called to say that Christmas dinner was being provided. Later on, a homemade "with all the trimmings" Christmas dinner was delivered to our door.
And then, Christmas night, as I helped my daughter get into bed, she hugged me and said through her tears, "Mom, it's so much harder at night. I love you so much! Thanks for everything. I don't know what I would have done without you." Then she looked up at me and said, "I don't mean this to sound weird, but I have really been feeling God's presence in this." The cantata hymn rang out in my mind once again, "Be Exalted, O God!"
I give thanks to God for the grace that has sustained my daughter thus far. And I know she has a long road to go yet, so please, pray for Melissa, for healing from grief, for healing from surgery, and for healing from a broken marriage.
In the early morning hours of Christmas Eve Day, as the world prepared to celebrate the birth of the Babe of Bethlehem, I held my daughter's hand as she gave birth to a premature stillborn child, due to a separated placenta. Baby Afton Long was born and died on Christmas Eve Day.
As I held my stillborn grandchild, my daughter, with a broken heart and tear-filled eyes, looked up at me and said, "Mom, I know we can't baptize the baby -- but can you give my baby a blessing?" As she named her baby, we prayed together. Then she held her baby so tenderly, marveling at how perfectly formed the baby was: ten toes, ten fingers. Through it all, a song from the Christmas Eve cantata kept echoing in my mind. "Be Exalted, O God."
Yet, in the midst of great tragedy, there were tears of joy.
After notifying family members by phone, my father's closing words to me were, "Remember, Christmas still happens. Christ still comes." He was so right. God's abundant grace has indeed been with us.
The hospital staff and Melissa's obstetrician were truly God's hands of compassion that night. They were wonderful. The Senior Pastor at the church, where my husband (who is my daughter's stepfather, as her dad died six years ago) serves as Associate Pastor, offered to let my husband preach at my Christmas Eve services, so that I could continue to be with my daughter. It gave us precious time together to cry, to pray, and for me just to sit and hold her while she cried and slept. So many people -- friends, family, church members -- have offered their prayers and condolences. It got us through the first night. Then, Christmas morning, my council president and his fiancé called to say that Christmas dinner was being provided. Later on, a homemade "with all the trimmings" Christmas dinner was delivered to our door.
And then, Christmas night, as I helped my daughter get into bed, she hugged me and said through her tears, "Mom, it's so much harder at night. I love you so much! Thanks for everything. I don't know what I would have done without you." Then she looked up at me and said, "I don't mean this to sound weird, but I have really been feeling God's presence in this." The cantata hymn rang out in my mind once again, "Be Exalted, O God!"
I give thanks to God for the grace that has sustained my daughter thus far. And I know she has a long road to go yet, so please, pray for Melissa, for healing from grief, for healing from surgery, and for healing from a broken marriage.
