Gratitude—central to prayer and worship

Twenty-eight years ago today, we welcomed our second daughter, Caroline, into the family. She was perfect.

Over the next few weeks, however, we began to suspect something “wasn’t quite right.” After many, many doctor appointments, tests, scans, and checks, she was declared completely healthy. That was on October 18. Less than a week later, our perfect baby girl died in my arms as we sat in the doctor’s waiting room. We had gone in with a concern that Carrie sounded a little congested the night before, certainly not thinking we were dealing with anything serious. Despite the doctor’s best efforts and further attempts in the ER to save her, we walked out of the hospital grieving Carrie a few hours later.

This was not something we even considered, and we had no idea where to turn or what to do. As we drove home, dazed and confused, we were hit with overwhelming grief. Nothing seemed to make sense. No one that we knew had experienced this before. We had no idea where to turn.

Somehow, someway, in the middle of the fog, Paul’s words in Philippians 4:6 came to mind: Don’t be anxious about anything; rather, bring up all of your requests to God in your prayers and petitions, along with giving thanks.

The thing is, we had been praying. Immediately after Carrie’s last breath, we prayed–fervently. We had been praying about our concerns for her health since she was born. Our prayers were not answered.

We kept praying, but suddenly, our prayers changed. We were no longer praying for Caroline’s health. We were praying that our family would survive this. We were praying that our marriage would be able to withstand the death of our beloved child. We were praying for Carrie’s cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents and all the people who loved her. We were praying for our almost four-year-old daughter, Kate, for so many things…. In the midst of it all, as our grief consumed us, we also began to pray for comfort. We asked God to make his presence felt and help us see some glimmer of light. We begged for God to please take away some of the excruciating pain we were feeling.

As we sat with our family and friends the next few days, conversation began to move from feelings of despair to sharing our favorite moments with Carrie. My mom holding Caroline during the night when the little princess decided she wasn’t sleepy, one of my nephews napping with her in the afternoon after he finished football practice, Kate’s toys spread around Carrie in her bouncy seat so they could play together, my niece running off the softball field to hold her cousin and show her off to her friends, my other nephew “dropping in” in the middle of the night as he passed through Kansas City so he could spend a few minutes with our girls.

In the midst of the stories, we began to smile and then to laugh about our baby girl’s silly antics. We began to see, that while we had lost so much, we had been so very blessed to have her in our lives, even for such a short time. Our prayers turned to praise. We began to thank God for the moments, for the extra time to hold her and look into her precious face when she didn’t want to be in her bed, for everyone who loved her and made time to be with her. We thanked God for making His presence known to us. For bringing people, family, friends, and even strangers who stepped up to carry us when we didn’t think we could go on.

Now, 28 years later, we stop–as we have every single year on this day–and we give thanks as a family for this beautiful child. We give thanks for the moments and remind ourselves that every moment we have is a blessing. So happy birthday, sweet Caroline. We love you; we miss you, and we are forever better for having you in our lives and our arms even for such a short time.