#217 "September Morn Remembering Noah"

As I fill the bird feeder with seed and pick cherry tomatoes off the vine, the air feels the same. It's funny how a chill in the air, but the promise of a beautiful fall day, can take you back. It feels the same. The same as that last September morn.

I pull my morning jacket close around me and remember. That day held such promise and hope. Standing on a balcony, telling my sweet girl, "Go have yourself a baby."  A bassinet and a welcome home sign were waiting. I can feel it all, today, on this September morn.

Hours later, a phone call. A weeping doctor said that the baby died. Noah was gone.

My tears are flowing freely now. I couldn't cry then. I couldn't cry for days.

I've never felt so helpless in all of my life.

Today I can feel it all. I relive it. The events. Minute by minute. Hour by hour. The weight of it threatens to blanket the sun that is rising in the east.

But the sun rises. Nevertheless. It has risen and set for the last 365 days. The days since that September morn. The days where we were sure that the sun would never shine again.

The only thing that would "never be", was that we would never, ever, be the same.

Maybe that's why things have just seemed not right this week. Just off kilter.

Geese fly overhead in V-formation. They feel it. They know the winter is coming. Their senses warn them. They are graciously allowed to fly away. They won't return until it's over.

Oh, to be one with them! To sense the coming cold and bitter winds, and take flight. To miss the frigid. To avoid the harsh. To bask in warm sunshine south, and not come back until it's over. If I could have...

Instead, He makes us stay. We stay and we cry and we bleed and we scream and we hurt and we endure and we lean and we trust, and we don't trust. We believe! Forgive our unbelief!

I am hiding. I am under the shadow of His wings. He holds me close and whispers in my ear through the words of this morning's devotional.

A verse that He gave me years ago for Noah's mom. Now He reminds me. For Noah.

"Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?" (John 11: 40)

It took my breath away.

While we would love to be planning a 1st birthday party this week. While Noah's mom and dad would rather have held a breathing baby in their arms. While Gigi would've loved to add Hot Wheels to the toy box and watch army men decapitate Barbie dolls. All the while glory shines.

Glory is flesh and blood having close encounters with the Living God. Growing closer to Him by watching Noah's parents. A village in Uganda thriving because of a well bearing Noah's name. Drinking not only clean, physical water, but learning of the "Living Water" that is Christ Jesus. Holden Uganda. Hope Mommies. Tragedy that points folk to triumph that is possible only in Him. Learning what strength and provision and grace that is amazing really means. Enduring. Enduring well. Having this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God, and not from us. Seeing God in a way that could never have been possible without the horrific.

So many are still seeking the purpose and plan for their lives. Our sweet Noah fulfilled his purpose and the plan God had for his life without ever breathing earth's air. Now He resides with our Savior. A job well done, good and faithful servant. He gave his life for eternal purposes, just like his Jesus. He is more like Him than we can ever hope to be. He sees His face. He knows what it feels like to be held in the warm embrace of the everlasting arms.

Would I take that from Noah...even if I could?

I walk by faith and not by sight.

Aside from Christ, I have never, ever loved anyone that I cannot see, more than my grandson, Noah Daniel Mahalak.

September Mornings Still Can Make Me Feel That Way!

Happy First Birthday, Mister Man! You are a beautiful, beautiful boy!