Jesus wept

The year was 1993, it was early in the morning the day before Thanksgiving and my wife just hung up the phone. Our daughter was only thirteen days old and in the NICU in Columbus, Ohio. We had made a call to the hospital to get an update before making the five-hour drive. Although the nurse was careful with her words, she said that Kayla might not survive until we get there. I was working for a Christian radio station at the time, and as we left town we had heard at least two separate pleas for prayer. This very heartfelt request was broadcast during morning drive time and I knew that literally tens of thousands of listeners were able to join with us in prayer for Kayla. We made the trip in record time. Upon entering the icu, we were greeted by the words “we’ve done all we can”. As we made our way to our baby girl, we dropped to our knees and openly wept after seeing her tiny one and a half pound body all blue. The wires and monitors were all removed, except for the single hand ventilator to keep her breathing until arrived. There we were huddled together on the floor totally crushed. I’d prepared for the possibly that she could die, but hadn’t expected it. I told myself as we made the drive, that with all the prayers that had been offered, no matter what the outcome, God had put his blessing on this. So as we lay there crying I didn’t feel Gods tears with us, He had known what was best for Kayla, and for us. So why should God cry? I believed that my God did what he thought was best. Although we were struggling with grief, He felt no doubts, no pain, and no regrets.

Weeks passed and God opened up my eyes. The all-knowing God that took our baby was also an all-loving God. I saw us again huddled there on the floor as he wrapped us in his arms and released a loud moan over the parents of a little girl that they were sure to miss. A little girl they were sure to love. His sorrow came not for Kayla, they came for us.