Recently, I was given–no, I mean actually given–a trip to the Holy Land. My sister-in-law, Dixie, paid my way for the 10-day trip that our church took to Israel. I can’t tell you how excited I was to be given the opportunity to go see, touch, smell, experience…etc. the place where Jesus was born, grew up, and ultimately gave His life and rose again for me. I was told that it would change my life. That the Bible wouldn’t read the same anymore. That I would be different when I returned home. I was told, “Before you go, you read your Bible in black & white. After you return, you read your Bible in 4D technicolor.” “Yeah, I bet!” I would reply as I tried to figure out exactly how exaggerated these descriptions of how the trip would affect me were. I’m here now to say that they weren’t exaggerated. In fact, they weren’t complete! It really isn’t possible to put into words the deep, long-lasting impact that a trip like this has on you.

I’m not writing to promote the trip, though. I wanted to sit down and write about two of the places that had the deepest impact on me.

On day 7 of the trip, we were headed to the Garden of Gethsemane, our guide informed us that we would have 50 minutes by ourselves in the garden. They actually unlocked a gate, we entered, and they locked the gate behind us. We were able to sit alone in the garden and have some time of reflection. I walked in and found an olive tree to sit under and I just sat there for a minute. As I sat there looking across the Kidron Valley at Jerusalem. I thought about that night that Jesus kneeled alone in this very garden. I know that He could see Jerusalem from where He was–it is pretty hard to miss. I wished that I could sit there beside Him. I did’t have any idea of what I would say. I did’t believe I would feel the need to ask, “Why?” It would probably just be us sitting there in silence.
I then realized that I was sitting there beside Him. I was able to talk to Him–although I still didn’t know what to say. I did sit in silence for a little while just sensing His presence there with me. Then I thought about the verse in Isaiah (53:4) that says, “…he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows…” I knew what I could say then to break the silence. I simply whispered, “Thank you. Thank you for bearing my griefs and carrying my sorrows. Thank you for that undeniable, unshakable, presence that I have felt during the darkest moments of my life.” After this, I had sweet fellowship with my Savior. I could have stayed in that garden much, much longer than the time allotted to me. Our group had a time of devotion and testimonies at the end of our time in the garden. We were all moved. We were all changed, collectively, in this place.

On day 10 of our trip, we visited the garden tomb. I didn’t feel goose bumps as I entered this place. I did’t have the hair on the back of my neck stand up. There was nothing mystical about the garden tomb.
I followed our guide over to the place of the skull and viewed the place where my Lord was crucified. I then followed him to the area where they discovered a winepress which definitively proves the location of a garden (why would you build a winepress outside of a garden and carry your grapes that much farther?). After this, we were lead over to the courtyard outside of the tomb. After a brief explanation, we were told that we could form a line and go into the tomb. I jumped up and went to the front of the line so I could get the picture you see attached to this article.
I went in with my phone recording a video of what I was seeing for the first time. I took some pictures and reflected for a brief moment and almost hurried out so I wouldn’t keep someone else from being able to go in. I then went to the back of the line so I could go in again. This time without my phone in my hand. I was going this time to have a minute, unhurried, in the tomb. As I stood in there, I thought of the words of the angel on that wonderful Easter morning, “He is not here: for he is risen, as he said. Come, see the place where the Lord lay.” (Matthew 28:6) I thought, “He really isn’t here.” **not that I had any doubt about the validity of the Lord’s resurrection** It’s just the fact that I am now an eyewitness to the fact that He isn’t there. I followed the instructions of the angel. I came and I saw the place where the Lord lay and He isn’t there.

As I stood in that tomb, I thought of a plot of ground back here in America. Specifically, a little plot of ground in the Kuna Cemetery. I go there from time to time to visit and to leave flowers. It is, in reality, a tomb where I go to remember a day and look forward to another day. I think about the day that I will get to see little McKinley’s face again.

My mind came back to me there in the garden tomb and it struck me. This is an empty tomb. I’m literally standing in a cave that has been carved out of a rock face where my Savior’s dead body laid AND where life came back into that dead body and He walked out alive and is alive still. The implications of this, the Bible says, are huge! Because this tomb is empty. Because He is not dead. Because He lives. Because of all of this, I know that the lifeless body in that little plot of ground in the Kuna Cemetery was only an earthly home for the sweet little girl that is more alive right now that I am. I walked out of that empty tomb with renewed strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow.

The time spent in Israel was truly life-changing. I know that I will never be the same again. My Bible reading is different. My prayer is different. I am different.

-Chad

Note: I began writing this blog post back in December (2015) shortly after the event I mention in the first paragraph. I began writing on this WordPress Blog as an almost therapeutic outlet. I have only written two posts including this one and actually didn’t begin writing either of them with the intention of publishing them to the blog. I appreciate you taking the time to read this post but want to note this disclosure that I don’t purport to “have it all together” nor do I feel like I am in the position to advise. Remember, this is simply a means I have chosen to use as an outlet. This probably won’t be my last post but it may be a while before there is another one. 

The first Tuesday of December (2015), the hospital sent us an invitation to be a part of an annual event. It is the “Club Meeting” for all of the parents who, unfortunately, are a part of this fraternity in which we had just recently found ourselves. As soon as we saw the invitation, we both agreed that we wanted to go. I didn’t exactly know what to expect nor can I put down in writing what I thought it would be like…I truly had NO idea what to expect. I can tell you that I hoped it would be an evening that left us feeling encouraged. I can say that I left disappointed.

When we arrived, we were greeted by a very sweet lady who showed us back to the room where the event would be held. We were encouraged to bring the kids with us to the event and we were glad to see that they had little ornaments for the kids to decorate in honor of their sibling. We were able to take their ornaments home for our tree, nice touch. We were seated and a couple of the chaplains came by and greeted us and visited with our kids. After a little while, the chaplain that I met at the hospital the night McKinley was born recognized me and came over to say hello. She said that she hoped the night would be beneficial for us and thanked us for coming. It was nice to see her again as she was a very sweet lady and was very kind that evening. In fact, all of the chaplains and staff from the hospital were great.

The evening was emceed by a ‘club member’ of 2 or 3 years. He told us a little snippet of his family’s story and, after some other things, introduced our speaker for the evening; another ‘club member.’ He began to tell us a little bit about his story and poured out his heart about how difficult it was for him to lose his son. It was heart-wrenching to hear him recount his son’s last words to him – “I love you, Dad.” – and to tell about the difficulty of having the machine that was keeping his son’s body alive turned off. I will leave out many of the details of the rest of his story as I don’t feel that I have the right to share it. Suffice it to say, he was angry with God and wasn’t afraid to say it.

This was a very short, incomplete version of the story but, as you can probably deduce, there was no hope and no encouragement. We had been given swimming lessons from a drowning man. We went away from that event slightly disturbed. We ended up going over to Georgia’s parents’ house so we could see someone who would give us some encouragement. We ended up sharing some laughs and went home better equipped to face the silence of our house once the kids were asleep.

I mentioned to Georgia that what we had witnessed in that room on that evening was how the world deals with grief. We witnessed how people deal with the grief of a great loss when they don’t have a relationship with the Lord upon which they can lean. I don’t mean to say that any one person in that room suffered more or less grief than the other; we were all hurting. In many ways, our grief was the same. The pain, the deep sense of loss, the sorrow…they were all present with each of us. The difference was HOPE. The difference was COMFORT. The difference IS Christ.

In my first blog post, There Was A Day, I mentioned the darkness that felt as though it might completely engulf us as the seconds, minutes, hours, and days slowly dragged on. It felt as though we had fallen into a deep, cold pit and someone was filling it up with heavy blankets of darkness. Darkness that felt like deep water covering our heads and stealing away all of our light. The kind of darkness that any Christian who ‘has their act together’ would be ashamed to admit that they felt, but it was there. Now, even months later, I have found myself in a mental fog. We had our family out for the funeral, we were given a trip to Kauai to help us get away from it all, we have gotten back into the routines of life and work. Yet this shadow remains. What is it? It isn’t like we sit and talk about the loss all of the time, we aren’t sitting around moping, we have 4 wonderful children who need us to live our lives with them. We have ministry work that we both are involved in and love doing. Honestly, I’ve had trouble understanding why I was having a difficult time mentally. It didn’t make sense. My thinking has been, “It has been 4 months. We went and designed her gravestone and, though it wasn’t easy, we were able to do it without falling apart. I should be fine but I don’t feel like I am.”

Physically speaking, there is nothing that can pull us out of the disparity of sorrow. Sure, contact with family and friends is vital to us since God made us to love being social but that only brings a short reprieve from the grief. Eating comfort foods and watching mind-numbing TV shows on Netflix does nothing permanent to bring us up out of the pit. Some turn to alcohol, drugs, and/or other vices. All of these things are merely temporary distractions from a grief that cannot be dealt with from outside sources. I love humor. I love laughing. But going to see a Tim Hawkins show isn’t going to replace the grief and sorrow we have had to, and still do, deal with. There is nothing wrong with laughing, there is nothing wrong with crying. I just want to be cautious not to mask or suppress any grief and sorrow that remains by using laughter. I also don’t want to become so entrenched in grief and sorrow that I forget to live my life so much so that it seems as though it ended the day McKinley’s life ended.

Grief and sorrow can slowly turn into anger, bitterness, depression…etc. Grief, sorrow, sadness…etc., are real emotions. They’re so real, in fact, that they can absolutely consume your life. This is a real danger since you may not know that you’re having an issue with grief until you have an issue. So, what is my issue?

One thing is for certain, I have been dealing with things on my own without any counsel or advice. That has changed. Talking with a friend, pastor, and/or someone who has gone through a similar situation and has come through are great ways to finally have some closure. One piece of advice I have received is to give it time. Time doesn’t heal all wounds, time allows wounds to heal if we’ll refrain from picking at them. God requires faithfulness from me. I have to remain faithful in my Bible reading, I have to remain faithful in my prayer time, I have to remain faithful in all areas of my spiritual and personal life; and then give time a chance to allow the wound to heal.

I was given some wise counsel recently from someone who had gone through a traumatic, life-changing event several years ago. I had been talking with them about the fact that I am in a fog for lack of a better term. They said, basically, God is the One in Whom we place our trust and, when things turn out badly, we have to make a conscious decision to trust Him again. It isn’t a loss of faith, it isn’t blaming Him. It is simply this fact: We trust Him to keep us, to sustain us, to protect us…etc. and things seemingly fell apart all around us. Life had been a roller coaster – up and down, up and down – except we weren’t expecting the downs after the ups. The way we want prayer to work is: We pray for something and God grants our wishes exactly how we want Him to. That’s how we pray, too. We have faith that God will: cure, heal, and/or fix. When He chooses not to do that, we have to choose to continue to trust Him. It isn’t simply, “Keep Calm and Carry On,” it is a choice that I will continue to place my trust in Him, the One who loves me more than I can even love myself. The One Who not only knows what tomorrow holds for me, but also cares and has a vested interest in my tomorrows. God isn’t only worthy of my praise, he is worthy of my trust.

When I received this advice, this song by the Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir immediately came to mind, Still I Will Trust You. This has become another song, in a list of songs, that has ministered to me.

♦ Psalm 57:1, “Be merciful unto me, O God, be merciful unto me: for my soul trusteth in thee: yea, in the shadow of thy wings will I make my refuge, until these calamities be overpast.”

♦ I Samuel 7:12, “Then Samuel took a stone, and set it between Mizpeh and Shen, and called the name of it Ebenezer, saying, Hitherto hath the Lord Helped us.” (underlined for emphasis)

♦ Psalm 3:3 – 5, “But thou, O Lord, art a shield for me; my glory and the lifter up of mine head. I cried unto the Lord with my voice, and he heard me out of his holy hill. Selah. I laid me down and slept; I awaked; for the Lord sustained me.”

-Chad

Dearest Friends and Family,

I have sat down on several different occasions to write to you all and let you know just how much you have meant to me over the past five months.  However, every time I opened my computer to write I came across the same issue that I have now…words.

What words…  There are no words… There is not a single word in any vocabulary to adequately describe my depth of gratitude for all of the prayers, support, and help that we have received through our 15 week journey leading up to McKinley’s birth and through our subsequent journey down the rocky road of grief and sorrow after her death.

How do you express a sufficient enough “Thanks” to someone who brought food to your family when you were so weak you couldn’t lift your head off of your pillow, or to church members who helped load and unload your kids from your car because you couldn’t lift them, or to family and friends who cleaned your house and folded laundry and watched your kids because you were just trying to stay still and strong enough to keep your baby inside?

How do you find the right words to express your gratitude over a Facebook message or phone text on a day when you didn’t think you could take another step or even wanted to, or when you felt like you couldn’t get out of bed for the pain inside and someone’s short message of, “I’m praying for you right now” gave you the strength to carry on?

How do I find mere words to convey the pain of sitting in a funeral home and picking out a 17 inch casket for our precious angel, a task that I would not wish on my worst enemy, accompanied with the relief of knowing that I didn’t have to worry about giving her a nice burial because of the generosity of loved ones?

There are not words sufficient enough for such a task.

This road that we have to travel due to the loss of our baby girl is a hard one.  Sometimes I feel beat up and battered.  Sometimes I feel like the tears will never subside.  Sometimes I feel like I can’t bear to walk another step.  But it’s on those days… those times when I feel like my spirit has been broken within me that I find strength in your prayers.

The verse that I have claimed since lying in a hospital bed holding my perfect, beautiful daughter for too short of a time was Philippians 4:13, “I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me” and I begged God for that strength.  I knew that I wasn’t strong enough to let my baby girl go.  I knew that I wasn’t strong enough to bear the loss of this child that I had done everything within my power to save, this baby of mine that had been kicking inside of me only a few hours earlier.  I knew that I wasn’t strong enough but Christ was.  He promises in Hebrews 13:5 that He “will never leave thee, nor forsake thee.”   But when I was the one surrounded by the darkness of loss, to be quite honest and transparent, I couldn’t “see” God.  While I was holding my 11 inches of perfection in my arms, watching her breathe her last breath, I didn’t feel Him next to me.  It was in those times, however, that I prayed and cried and begged God for His comfort.  I just wanted to feel His arms around me…to know that everything would be okay…to not feel so hopeless…to not feel so much pain.

It was in that darkness that God’s love shined brightest.  Not in a fire, not in a whirlwind, but in a whisper.  A whisper of love and encouragement, a hug, a phone message saying that you were there for me whenever I needed you, a meal, a plant, a note, a smile that said you were sorry for what I was going through, an ear to listen when I needed to talk or to just allow me to be silent, or the necklace, pictured above, that came when I needed it most.  These were all beautiful expressions of God’s arms around me.  This was God’s love in action.  It was as if through these seemingly small acts I could feel His arms around me and hear Him whisper, “I’m here”.  It was because of your willingness to allow Him to use you that I have been able to start breathing again.  It is because of your prayers that I can read God’s Word and find a comfort that is supernatural and a peace that only He can give.

So I say, thank you, knowing that those two simple words could never capture the breadth of my gratitude or the depth of love.  Each of you will forever hold a special place in my heart.

Georgia

 

This is a post I put up on Facebook before Christmas 2015:

This will be the only post of this nature that I will put up during the Christmas holiday. 

Georgia and I wanted to get each other gifts to commemorate McKinley’s life but we didn’t want to make this the center focus of our family Christmas. We decided to give each other our gifts when they got in. 

I had her a ring made that has the birthstone of each of our 6 children; March, June, July, August, October, and November. They’re loose inside a caged heart design. She got me a set of custom cufflinks. They have McKinley’s footprints on them and they say McKinley on one and 11/3/15 on the other. During this most wonderful time of the year, hold your loved ones close and don’t take family for granted. Regardless of what has happened in the past, nobody has any promise of tomorrow.

We love you all and thank you for your prayers! Merry Christmas!

Luke 1:46 – 47, “And Mary said, My soul doth magnify the Lord, And my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Saviour.”

Chad

  
 Don’t let the title fool you. This won’t be a dissertation on the book of Job nor will it be discussing the hardships that Job faced. I chose to use this phrase from the book of Job simply because for us, like Job, life was going along just fine and then this phrase hits like a ton of bricks…there was a day.
For us, the first time ‘there was a day’ doesn’t have a particular date. I just remember Georgia, 12 weeks pregnant, telling me that she had some bleeding and felt it necessary to go to the hospital. (She had bleeding like this one time before and that was when we lost our sweet baby, Taylor, by miscarriage in 2013. She was 11-12 weeks along then, too.) Of course, there was the fear that she would lose another baby but we both knew that we needed to head down to St. Luke’s Boise ER in hopes that they would be able to do an ultrasound to see if the baby was okay and to see what was causing the bleeding. The ER doctor told us that she was probably miscarrying the baby and that there was nothing that we or he could do. He sent us home with instruction to go see Georgia’s OB the next day.

We discovered that Georgia was not having a miscarriage like the ER doctor had said. Instead we heard a new term: subchorionic hematoma. We were told that part of the placenta had separated from the wall of the uterus and had caused a bleed that was resulting in a sizable clot. Dr. King told us (in a very kind but honest way) that either the clot will remain and the baby will not survive or the baby will remain and the clot will go away. So we asked all of our friends on Facebook and in churches to pray. Georgia was told to take it easy and not lift or do much of anything. She essentially put herself on a modified bedrest. If there was something we could do to prevent losing another baby, we tried it. At the last appointment with Dr. King that Georgia had while she was pregnant, we were given a new goal; if we could make it to 24 weeks, they would admit her into the hospital and begin steroid injections with the intention of strengthening McKinley’s lungs and give her a fighting chance should she come early. Georgia was currently starting her 20th week, just one more month to go. We prayed. We can do this.

Then ‘there was a day’ again.

Tuesday, November 3rd at around 5:30pm. I had gotten home from subbing at Cole Valley Christian School just an hour before when Georgia told me that we needed to go to the hospital, now. We loaded up the kids and called the Steele’s to let them know we were headed to their house to drop off the kids. When we arrived at the hospital, we went up to Labor and Delivery and told them the situation: Georgia was 21 weeks, 1 day, she had a subchorionic hematoma with placental abruption, and she was having hard contractions about 2.5 to 4 minutes apart. They immediately brought us back and put her on all of the monitors that are par for the course with normal L&D. There was the tocometer to indicate whether or not the contractions were real and the external fetal heart rate monitor which gives us audible confirmation that McKinley did indeed still have a heart beat.

At this point, we were sure that everything would be fine. They would give Georgia medicine that would stop her labor and possibly admit her early in order to monitor both her and McKinley more closely. I was trying to figure out how we would juggle our lives around to accommodate this new living arrangement for Georgia.

That is when we met Dr. Fealko, one of the partners in Dr. King’s group.

Dr. Fealko had a portable ultrasound machine brought in and immediately noticed that there was no amniotic fluid around McKinley. Georgia’s water had broken. Georgia then estimated that it had broken earlier that day but, because of the nature of Georgia’s bleeding, she didn’t know that it was also her water breaking. Dr. Fealko told us what we needed to know in order to make decisions on what to do and how to proceed. We told her to do EVERYTHING that could be done to save our sweet baby’s life. She told us that saving the baby meant keeping the baby from coming for at least two more weeks.

She had them start two hefty antibiotics through IV and had us moved to a regular L&D room. Georgia laid in the hospital bed with her head down and feet up for hours. There was nothing we could do more other than pray. The sweet L&D nurse we had joined us as we all held hands and prayed. When it became clear to the medical professionals that surrounded us that all of our efforts weren’t going to stop the labor and Georgia would indeed have McKinley, they began preparing us for the path we were about to walk down. Through tears, we asked them if there was any way that they could save McKinley. Through tears, they told us that there would be nothing they could do. McKinley’s little body just wasn’t developed enough to be able to survive.

What do you say when you are told that your baby is about to be born and you will then have the choice to hold her while she dies or have them take her away to die somewhere else? The moment came when Dr. Fealko told us that McKinley was coming, now. I had to sit. I felt as though the room was spinning and the floor had fallen from beneath my feet. I prayed but I had no words to pray. I just repeated over and over, “I need you, Father. I need you.” I could hear Georgia quoting Philippians 4:13 and begging God for strength. All I could do was hold her as she suffered physically and emotionally.

At 1:34am, McKinley Anne Adams came into this world like a whisper. We have four children. We had been through labor and delivery four times before but this time was different. There was no fanfare. There wasn’t the sound of a new baby’s cry. She was a quiet, peaceful gift from God and we fell in love the second we laid eyes on her. We both knew that we wanted to spend every second of her short life with her in our arms. I held my wife while she held our precious baby in her arms for the first and last time. As she lay on her mother’s chest with her perfect little hand softly rubbing her mom, words of comfort and love were poured over her. Silently and, at times, out loud we prayed. Thanking God for such a perfect gift and begging Him for the strength to continue. I think the hardest part might be that there was nothing wrong with her. She was completely formed. She was beautiful.

We comforted our baby girl for 1 hour and 36 minutes before she quietly slipped into heaven at 3:10am. At somewhere around 3:45, we said goodbye and prayed and allowed the nurse to take McKinley’s body away. Then we just held each other and cried.

Skipping forward…

After going home, making all of the arrangements for the funeral, having family come in from Florida, Oregon, and China (trip), we were to have the unenviable task of burying our child. I was asked by several people why I chose to perform her funeral. My reply was, “Who else?” I will never have the privilege of performing my baby girl’s wedding so I had an unenviable honor of performing her funeral. I would like to share with you the remarks I made at the funeral:

     On November 3rd at 1:34 in the morning, our lives changed forever. McKinley Anne Adams was born. Her 21 weeks of existence had been wrought with difficulties. Ultrasounds, doctor visits, and much prayer. The 1 1/2 hours she lived outside of her mother’s womb were spent in the arms of her parents with words of love and comfort being poured over her. There are no words to express the sorrow of having lost such a perfect, beautiful baby girl. There are no expressions here on earth that can describe the future that we have lost with her. There are no definitions to describe that feeling when strangers take your child from your arms knowing that you will never hold or see them again here on earth. There is now a great gulf between us. One that we will probably not cross for a very long time. 

     We are separate.

     She is now absent.

     But we have a blessed hope that one day, we will be present again. One day we will be able to embrace McKinley once more. One day our family will all be together once again. We, as Christians, have a hope that the world does not have. We have the hope that is given to us through Christ Jesus.

     During these weeks when our world was turned upside down, especially this last week and a half. The Lord has been ever present with us. There were times when we felt as though darkness would engulf us completely. It was in those times, in the depth of our disparity, the Words of God shone through and different verses brought comfort to each of us. 

     During the labor, delivery, and eventual passing of our baby girl, God continually impressed upon my heart the words of Isaiah 26:3: 

“Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee: because he trusteth in thee.” 

Even though my world was reeling. Even though I didn’t know how I was going to be able to go through this much less comfort Georgia as her husband and strong shoulder. I knew that I needed to keep trusting in Him as He would be the one to guide me along the impossible path I was on.

     When we were going to the funeral home and here to the cemetery, God gave me Psalm 94:17 – 19:

“Unless the Lord had been my help, my soul had almost dwelt in silence. When I said, My foot slippeth; thy mercy, O Lord, held me up. In the multitude of my thoughts within me thy comforts delight my soul.”

     When we finally finished planning everything and Saturday, November 14, 2015 was in our crosshairs as the most difficult task we have ever had to do, God brought Jeremiah 29:11:

“For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.”

There are so many thoughts that we are tempted to think toward our God during times like these. I know that my God is not some Greek god looking down from Olympus waiting to strike us with his lightening bolt. I know my God has thoughts of peace toward me. He has an expected end for me.

     The verse that the Lord has used to help GA in the midst of this difficult time is Philippians 4:13:

“I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.”

During the hours of labor and the moments thereafter, when she held our baby in her arms and she knew these were the last moments she would send with her. These are the verses that came to the forefront of her mind and the prayer that she repeated over and over. She needed God’s strength to do what no mother should ever have to do. She needed strength that exceeded anything on this human realm.

     After we arrived back home on the night of the 3rd, and there were no more nurses and no more doctors, and she lay in the quiet of her room while her mind was anything but silent, God brought the verse to her mind that He has used throughout this pregnancy to minister to her, Psalm 46:10a:

“Be still, and know that I am God…”

It is during those quiet moments when the questions and the ‘what if’s’ and the ‘why’s’ seem to crowd around her that she has had to still her mind and rest in the peace that He is God.

     We know that death is a result of the corruption of sin in this world. We do not know, however, why God chose not to intervene and save the life of our daughter. I was able to preach at our church just a few weeks ago. The Lord had given me a message on giving Him glory through adversity. Little did I know that He was beginning to prepare me for the difficult road that lay ahead. We will probably never know why God chose to allow us to walk this road. When we get to heaven, we may be so overjoyed to be together again that it may not even matter to us. What we do know and our prayer through this is that McKinley Anne’s life will have brought glory to God and that our testimony through this loss brings Him honor. The rest of Psalm 46:10 says, “I will be exalted among the heathen, I will be exalted in the earth.” Our prayer is that God would be exalted.

I know that this isn’t the end for us. I know that God has a plan for our lives. There is life after death and we choose to live it. One thing that has become evident to us is the desire to hug those who we hold dear. During this time filled with holiday traditions and family get-togethers, please remember that life isn’t forever. Hug those friends and family members that are still alive and tell them that you love them.

I will close this blog post just as I closed the funeral service, with the hope and prayer that God would be glorified and honored and exalted. Praise His Holy Name!

Chad