Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a huge crowd of witnesses to the life of faith, let us strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily trips us up. And let us run with endurance the race God has set before us.
Hebrews 12:1, NLT
I came across this Scripture Saturday morning, and it really hit home. I was looking at the beginning of the second day of a new year and the first day of a tough weekend. This verse caught my attention ot a time I knew that I would need God’s strength and endurance to survive.
Whether 2010 started off rough or 2009 ended rough, I am not sure. Whichever way, I sincerely hope that this weekend was the toughest one that I will have to face this year.
Saturday was the memorial service for Logan Sandoval. Logan was stillborn on December 17, eight days before Christmas. His death brought up a lot of memories for me—memories of my miscarriage nearly five years ago. The hole that baby—my daughter Rylee—left in my heart was torn wide open. Once again my arms ached to hold her—an ache that felt just as strong that morning as it felt on February 14, 2005. I looked at my youngest son, a boy born two years after the miscarriage, and felt beyond grateful to have him in my life. The blessing of his love, though, doesn’t take away the emptiness that Rylee left behind.
There is a big part of me that thinks Kayla, Logan’s mother, was so very lucky. She got to feel her baby kick, to see him on an ultrasound screen, and to witness his growth through her expanding waistline. On the day he was born, she got to hold him and kiss him. She has pictures of him and plaster casts of his handprint and footprint. But then during the service, I looked over to where Kayla was sitting, right between her husband and her mother. She looked so broken. I’ve known Kayla since she was about a year old. I have never seen her look so sad, so helpless. I wanted to wrap my arms around her and take away all the pain and sadness.
The next morning, I saw Kayla at church, with a smile on her face. She was living through the most difficult thing any mom could ever go through, a more difficult time than most others at 18 would ever have to face. And she was facing it with dignity, with her head held high. That was when I realized that what Kayla has isn’t luck. It was love. She has the love of her family and her friends. Most of all, she has enough love for her son to go on with her life. Me? I’ve been so wrapped up in missing Rylee and wondering what she would look like and whether or not she would be like her brothers to really move on with my life. When I came home from the service, I put the little “In Memory” card in the memory box that I made for Rylee.
Every woman who has to say good-bye to her child could learn a lot from Kayla.
Unfortunately, Little Logan’s memorial service was not the only sadness for my family. On New Year’s Eve, December 31, 2009, my mom’s older brother passed away. His death wasn’t as unexpected as Logan’s. Uncle Bob had been ill for a long time. He had cancer and kidney problems and heart problems. My uncle led a good, full life. He had three wonderful daughters, and five grandchildren. The fight just got to be too much for him. If my math is correct, December 31, 2009 would have been his parents’ 75th wedding anniversary. Uncle Bob chose to celebrate that milestone by joining Mammie and Pappie in Heaven.
These two funerals were two totally different experiences. With Uncle Bob, there was sadness mixed with a bit of relief. We all knew—some more than others—how he was suffering. Though he will forever be missed, the thought that he is no longer suffering brought some comfort. With Logan, the sadness was mixed with a large dose of confusion and even a bit of anger. He was so young, never even getting a chance to live a life before it was over.
Anyway, my point is if this year is really a race, God is going to have to give my family a lot of endurance to get through it.
