This past week has been a rollercoaster of emotions for the whole community that prayed and stormed heaven’s gates for a little boy named Max. Max, fifteen months old, fell into the family’s swimming pool and was life-flighted to a children’ hospital. After a fight of about a week, God healed Max on the other side of heaven.
Leaving his family, our dear friends, with a very empty place in their hearts.
Why God chooses to heal one child and take another one home, is not something I could answer.
I couldn’t answer that question; although, I have asked it myself. All I know is, God loves me, God could have healed, but He chose not to. I remember back when we lost Enoch and Levi was sobbing, gut wrenching sobs, saying, “God raised Lazarus from the dead, why did he not hear my prayer and raise Enoch and let him live?”
I had no answers then, and I have none now. All I could do was hold Levi and assure him that God knows the things we don’t know. I have to trust Him, I have no other choice. My prayer to God was that it MEANT something. In order for his life to mean something, I had to look for ways to use it for God’s glory.
And that meant not being silent any more about pain, anguish and heartache from loss. If I kept it all to myself, it could not help anyone.
I had been taught to keep such things to myself, but in doing that, Enoch and Tressa and all of the other losses in our family’s life would fade into meaningless memories. And other than causing pain that would be there, but hidden; there would be no reason for any of it. Our experiences in life, when we share the pain, we find we are not alone…there are others who need to hear just what we have to say for them to make it one more day. We need to weep with those who weep, and believe me, if you have experienced the loss of a child, you cannot help but have emotions come pouring out when your friend or family member has the same experience.