A mother's eulogy .........

Last Sunday several  attended a memorial service for the 19 week preborn  son of "Anne and Peter " longtime TN Right to Life supporters.  Anne gave a moving eulogy in honor of her baby’s life which is reprinted below.

“In the turmoil of this week, we have found joy in the little things.  Alexander came home from preschool with a quote, chosen by his teachers, which he was to memorize for his graduation program.  The last thing that I wanted to do was to coach him through what I thought might be a difficult thing to memorize.  But the joy that I saw on his face each time he said the line, made my heart sing.  Alexander learned his line and presented it on Thursday night during his program.  I was a proud mama.  So proud, in fact, that I have asked him to share his quote during William’s memorial service, “Tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all.”  Alfred Lord Tennyson.

I was shocked when I read the quote that had been sent home with Alexander.  Well, isn’t it just fitting that this is the line that they chose for our family to reflect upon?  As I thought about it though, I found it so true.  We had a son whose presence in our lives, though brief, has touched us deeply. 

Isn’t it amazing how a little person who hasn’t even entered the world yet can have such an impact on your life?  Even in utero our children are just that - they are our children.  And with a child come all of the hopes and dreams and aspirations for the future.  As parents, we lie in bed and wait in expectation for each kick and wiggle, knowing it is not simply indigestion but a new life forming.  We wonder whether they'll have daddy's eyes or mommy’s hair.  We wonder whether they'll be into sports or good at art (no parent ever wonders what they'll be bad at!)

We think of that day way off in their future when they will walk across the stage of their high school to receive their diploma - of course with a scholarship to some prestigious university already in hand.  We dream of the day they will graduate yet again, start their first job (something that pays well, to support us in our old age) and finally meet and marry that special someone and have grandkids for us!  We hope and pray that in all of this that they know God. 

Peter and I had all of these hopes, wonders, and dreams for William but they were not meant to be.  Instead, we are here.  In this place.  Reaching out to you and to God, trying to make sense of something that will never make sense.  I am comforted by the hope of seeing my children in heaven.  I am comforted by verses that remind me that I am not the only one who has been in this place.  Psalm 71:20 says, ‘Though you have made me see troubles, many and bitter, you will restore my life again; from the depths of the earth you will again bring me up.’

Many of you probably know that William is not our first loss.  Our second child, Matthew, was born at 37 weeks with a chromosome abnormality called Trisomy 18.  Matthew was called to heaven from my arms several hours after he was born. 

Neither Matthew nor William was perfect or healthy by normal standards but they were perfect to us.  I wonder, sometimes, whether we are given children so that we can teach them or so that we can learn from them.  When I look at a big patch of dandelions, I see a bunch of weeds that are going to take over my yard.  My kids see beautiful yellow flowers to pick and present to me and they are amazed by the white fluff that makes wishes come true.  So it is with a child’s eyes that I hope to see the world.  I pray that each day, each moment, I can treasure the little things like a memorized verse or a chain of weeds around my neck.  It is these things and the hope of heaven that make me smile through my grief. 

Thank you so much for being here today, for listening to me, for praying for us, for worshipping with us, and for sharing with us your love.  If you’ll indulge me for a few more moments, I want to say a special thank you.  But first, let me tell you a story. 

In the wake of Chicago's worst winter ever, when all of the rooftops were loaded, many overloaded with snow....Michael Smith saw his wife run out to the backyard garage to grab some boxes. Seconds later he heard a crash! Looking out he saw that the roof of the garage had caved in. Smith did not stop for hat or coat... He ran from the house, grabbed a snow shovel, and called out for neighbours to help.  Yelling and digging, with sweat freezing on his face - throwing snow and pulling away boards - he heard her voice and then saw her hand. He kept digging, throwing and pulling.... And within minutes he had his wife in his arms and was sobbing, "Are you all right? Are you all right? I thought you were hurt. Oh honey, I love you so much!"

She was fine.

What Michael Smith did NOT know was this: His wife had gone into the garage through one door and out through another. She was safe in the house when she looked out and saw her husband digging and shouting orders and throwing planks of wood, feverishly trying to rescue her. She could not let her gallant rescuer down.  So she put her coat on again and went outside and quietly entered the garage through the back door - and allowed her husband to be her hero.

The difference between Mrs. Smith and me is that throughout our difficult times, especially now, I was underneath that roof.  My wonderful husband, Peter, has been digging me out the whole time.  He has washed dishes and clothes, fed, bathed and loved our children when I could not, he has rubbed my feet and held my hand.  He has called 911 and prayed for a miracle.  He has encircled me with his love when our miracles haven’t come.  Thank you for being my hero. Each day, you have helped me to be strong and to carry on when I all I wanted to do was crawl back under the covers.  Alexander, Matthew, Charlotte, and William are very lucky to have you as a daddy.  

Peter is not the only one I need to recognize, though.  For all of your prayers, notes, messages, meals, and childcare help, saying thank you is not enough.  The outpouring of support and love that we have received from our family, both physical and spiritual, has overwhelmed us.  Our church truly is a family who will accept us as we are.  We come to you feeling as if we are lost and questioning, like David in Psalm 13 but know that you will stay with us through to the end. 

¹ How long, O LORD ? Will you forget me forever?
       How long will you hide your face from me?

 ² How long must I wrestle with my thoughts
       and every day have sorrow in my heart?
       How long will my enemy triumph over me?
 ³ Look on me and answer, O LORD my God.
       Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death;
 ⁴ my enemy will say, "I have overcome him,"
       and my foes will rejoice when I fall.
 ⁵ But I trust in your unfailing love;
       my heart rejoices in your salvation.
 ⁶ I will sing to the LORD,
       for he has been good to me.

Thank you for holding our hands until we are singing verse six, “he has been good to me.” James 1:17 says that every good and perfect gift is from above.  I believe that God sent William, our perfect gift.  Even though his life with us was cut short, he will live forever in our hearts and in our memories.  We will rejoice together as we are united in heaven.  Until then, I will trust that my mom is up there, sitting next to Jesus, rocking my sweet boys to sleep.”