I was re-reading my last post and realized how, uh, passionate I was. It was a difficult week. To recap, for those just joining us,
I received a call 6:45 Tuesday morning from Kevin, a friend and member of the home group my wife and I lead to support home schooling families. He was understandably panicked. His little girl had stopped breathing for 10 minutes and they were lifting her out of there by helicopter to get her to the hospital.
I was in the car in a few minutes, praying. I asked God how I should be praying and I could tell from His response that this darling little 6 year-old was already gone. Yelling at God doesn't do much, but I told him I didn't want to bury another child this year. Our group had already said goodbye to a baby just 5 months ago when this new tragedy hit.
I arrived at the hospital and found that she had died. Kevin was in the room with her body and he needed me. Nothing you've seen on TV dramas about life and death prepares you for the sight of a little girl who has been frantically worked on by medics and doctors, only to find the fight has been in vain. I can't imagine the absolute horror that washed over Kevin and his wife as they sat there with her body. Kevin looked up at the monitors that were now silent and since the leads were off, question marks were where the numbers usually were. Question marks fit everything I felt in that moment. What do you say? What do you do? How could something like this happen? All I could do was pray for him, hold him, and listen to him as the first waves of grief washed over him.
Police officers are remarkably punctual when a child has died and they went over everything with Kevin and his wife. We went back to Kevin's in-laws to grieve and wait while the coroner took her body and did an autopsy to find out what happened. I knew that God had me there to pray over them and comfort them, but I was in over my head. Thankfully, a pastor from our church was with us at the hospital and he arranged for a meeting that evening to pray and talk about what had to be decided that night, like a mortuary and how to memorialize their daughter. By that time, we had learned that she had died from complications arising from a twisted colon that happened because of a birth defect that was impossible to detect. The symptoms present as the stomach flu and unless something is done in the first 6 hours from the onset of symptoms, you have little hope of surviving.
My children were close to this girl. They needed help grieving and we spent a lot of time helping them sort out their feelings. My son had the worst time that night. The two of them had become great buddies when we went camping only two months ago. He's six and feels embarrassed when he cries, but I cried with him that night.
My son and I went with them to pick out the plot. It's beautiful. It's under a tree and looks at the mountains. It will be a good place for them to come and grieve in the coming months.
Friday, we had the memorial service, put together by the staff of our church. It was beautiful. There were eulogies, a video montage of her life, and a presentation of the gospel. She was a princess. She loved dancing. She loved her mom and dad. Most importantly, she loved Jesus. She once overheard a mom talking to her son about what Jesus would say about what her son had done and she came up and asked "Are you talking about Jesus? What are you saying about him? I love him so much!"
She used to go out to a little RC helicopter pad and sit down with her dad and talk. Over time, the pad was starting to break down and last Saturday, Kevin picked it up and tossed it in the trash, thinking that he would build another one in a few days. His little girl came outside later and for 30 minutes was running about around the property. She came and got him and took him over to where the pad had been. In it's place was every flat and square piece of material that she could find. "Daddy, I built our helicopter pad back. Isn't that great?"
How do you recover when you have lost such a precious girl as this?
I don't have any answers to this. I'm not looking for them either. I am mourning with my friend over the loss of his daughter. I will go tomorrow night for a candlelight service provided by their old church. And in a few days, I will go with them to place her body in the ground. I will probably shed more than a few tears over this loss in the coming weeks. I am committed to standing by my friends in this. They need us and I plan to do what God told me in the car to do on the way to the hospital: Support Kevin and his wife.
For those who read here regularly, I will resume writing about parenting, connecting with God and home schooling in general in a few days. Thanks for hanging in there with me.
Further posts on this:
Previous post: At The Drop Of A Hat
I received a call 6:45 Tuesday morning from Kevin, a friend and member of the home group my wife and I lead to support home schooling families. He was understandably panicked. His little girl had stopped breathing for 10 minutes and they were lifting her out of there by helicopter to get her to the hospital.
I was in the car in a few minutes, praying. I asked God how I should be praying and I could tell from His response that this darling little 6 year-old was already gone. Yelling at God doesn't do much, but I told him I didn't want to bury another child this year. Our group had already said goodbye to a baby just 5 months ago when this new tragedy hit.
I arrived at the hospital and found that she had died. Kevin was in the room with her body and he needed me. Nothing you've seen on TV dramas about life and death prepares you for the sight of a little girl who has been frantically worked on by medics and doctors, only to find the fight has been in vain. I can't imagine the absolute horror that washed over Kevin and his wife as they sat there with her body. Kevin looked up at the monitors that were now silent and since the leads were off, question marks were where the numbers usually were. Question marks fit everything I felt in that moment. What do you say? What do you do? How could something like this happen? All I could do was pray for him, hold him, and listen to him as the first waves of grief washed over him.
Police officers are remarkably punctual when a child has died and they went over everything with Kevin and his wife. We went back to Kevin's in-laws to grieve and wait while the coroner took her body and did an autopsy to find out what happened. I knew that God had me there to pray over them and comfort them, but I was in over my head. Thankfully, a pastor from our church was with us at the hospital and he arranged for a meeting that evening to pray and talk about what had to be decided that night, like a mortuary and how to memorialize their daughter. By that time, we had learned that she had died from complications arising from a twisted colon that happened because of a birth defect that was impossible to detect. The symptoms present as the stomach flu and unless something is done in the first 6 hours from the onset of symptoms, you have little hope of surviving.
My children were close to this girl. They needed help grieving and we spent a lot of time helping them sort out their feelings. My son had the worst time that night. The two of them had become great buddies when we went camping only two months ago. He's six and feels embarrassed when he cries, but I cried with him that night.
My son and I went with them to pick out the plot. It's beautiful. It's under a tree and looks at the mountains. It will be a good place for them to come and grieve in the coming months.
Friday, we had the memorial service, put together by the staff of our church. It was beautiful. There were eulogies, a video montage of her life, and a presentation of the gospel. She was a princess. She loved dancing. She loved her mom and dad. Most importantly, she loved Jesus. She once overheard a mom talking to her son about what Jesus would say about what her son had done and she came up and asked "Are you talking about Jesus? What are you saying about him? I love him so much!"
She used to go out to a little RC helicopter pad and sit down with her dad and talk. Over time, the pad was starting to break down and last Saturday, Kevin picked it up and tossed it in the trash, thinking that he would build another one in a few days. His little girl came outside later and for 30 minutes was running about around the property. She came and got him and took him over to where the pad had been. In it's place was every flat and square piece of material that she could find. "Daddy, I built our helicopter pad back. Isn't that great?"
How do you recover when you have lost such a precious girl as this?
I don't have any answers to this. I'm not looking for them either. I am mourning with my friend over the loss of his daughter. I will go tomorrow night for a candlelight service provided by their old church. And in a few days, I will go with them to place her body in the ground. I will probably shed more than a few tears over this loss in the coming weeks. I am committed to standing by my friends in this. They need us and I plan to do what God told me in the car to do on the way to the hospital: Support Kevin and his wife.
For those who read here regularly, I will resume writing about parenting, connecting with God and home schooling in general in a few days. Thanks for hanging in there with me.
Further posts on this:
Previous post: At The Drop Of A Hat
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