Those who have walked in darkness

I do not know how to blog about this week.

There are so many back stories that I cannot explain. So many people who have been in my life for a very long time, in places very far away, that fell on my doorstep this week.

To keep a long story short, an old family friend's mother was put into hospice over the weekend. My mother drove down with her to Cincinnati this week, to spend time with them, and to help driving.

At the same time, an old family friend's son and his wife (who is my sister's age, who we grew-up with) had their first baby on Saturday night in Ft. Wayne. It did not go well, and the baby (and the whole family), came to the NICU at Riley in Indianapolis.

And this is how, on Monday night, I found myself, with my mother and sister, in the NICU lobby at Riley with people I had not seen in years, who are not from Indianapolis, who I never in a million years thought I'd be seeing here under this circumstance.

Their story is not mine to tell. I will not try to begin. All you need to know is that this pregnancy and baby were perfect. In the last minutes of labor, something went wrong, and then... we were all in the NICU lobby.

There are no classes called "How to Talk to Someone About Their Parent Being Put into Hospice" or "How to Comfort Someone as The Watch Their Baby Die" at Wheaton College.

There is no preparation for this in life.
There is only faith.
And a lot of crying.

I can only write about how it felt to be there. There is no explanation as to why a beautiful, precious baby, born to loving parents, will only live a few days.

There is only faith.
And a lot of crying.

This is not a philosophy blog. I am not going to talk about the problem of evil in the world, why an all-loving, all powerful God allows these things to pass. This is a life blog.

This is a faith blog.
And a blog that involves a lot of crying.

I cannot explain the grief, shock or pain of those grandparents. It was overwhelming. But in that same sadness, I cannot explain how strongly I felt the presence of God. Not of comfort, not in contrast to the pain, not in spite of it... it just prevailed.

This life has some terrible, dark moments. But this life is also not void of our God. And that reality nearly knocked me off my feet on Monday night.

The other reality that knocked me off me feet?

The church is real. And it is not a building. My mother, sister and I are not special. We were just sent. We were put exactly where we were, when we were, to be doing what we were doing in that moment. Not only were we sent to that hospital that night, but I had people who never met these people praying for them like they were their own brothers and sisters. It only took a simple text message.
Jesus was not kidding when said he that he would build his church on himself as a rock and then make us the extension of himself into this world.

This moment of life was much, much bigger than me.

This faith, that our God loves us, was something these people knew. And in that horrible moment, despite not being able
to feel
it, they were trying so, so hard to cling to those truths we prayed over them. When we found words of praise, they echoed them. It was one of the most incredible expressions of faith I have ever seen.

My job? To go. My job was to pray the words. The words that came to me like someone wrote them on a piece of paper and hand them to me.

That our God has saved us
That there is comfort for his people
That those who walk in darkness
will see a Great Light

The baby did go to be with Jesus today. Please keep this family in your prayers.


  1. Chrissy, your words say exactly the same things I have told others and how I felt. It was a privilege to be there. I can't explain why God sent me there, but I felt honor to walk this horrible path with my friends. Thanks for coming with me. Thanks for praying. Love, **MOM**


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