It almost began to feel like God wasn’t breaking into the moment, but he was the moment.
Pastor Ricky stepped in to handle all of the logistics we were in no frame of mind to handle. It was an extraordinary gift. When he asked us how we wanted the burial of Luca to be handled, we told him cremation. He immediately took care of every detail to allow us the chance to do nothing more than grieve.
A few days later, through the generosity of our Rock family, we were on a boat on a sunny day, traveling out to sea with an urn of Luca’s ashes. A nearby docked ship gave Luca a cannon salute. We stopped the boat and Ricky and his wife, Nova, led us in a ceremony to say goodbye. When it was time, we took the urn and opened it. Luca’s ashes spread out over the water and as they touched it, they glistened brightly in the sun, like gold leaf everywhere. Bringer of Light, I thought, as I cried once more. That’s our girl.
In the weeks that followed, there were no shortages of God’s mercies just as there were no shortages of moments of unfathomable pain and feelings of loss. Friends stayed and people prayed and meals were delivered and it was a strange combination of being broken-hearted and lifted higher than I’ve ever been before.
The Rock’s Safe in Heaven ministry was an extraordinary comfort as the leaders, Michelle and Ryan Icenhower, were able to offer the kinds of words that can only come from those who have been there.
The crib sat untouched in Luca’s room until it was time for us to address it. With a pained look in his eyes, Chris said he was going to go in the room and take it down. I knew how Chris felt about that crib. This was going to be his saying goodbye as much as anything.
I sat on the couch and prayed for Chris as he dismantled it and I could hear him in her room, just feet from where I was. His sniffling was gut-wrenching for me. He had been such a kind, thoughtful, generous, loving husband throughout the entire ordeal. I wished there was something I could do for him. And so I continued to pray. And that is when the voice that I heard in the hospital spoke again. “Please don’t worry,” God said. “You’re going to have a son and you’ll name him Luke.”
My eyes popped open and I looked around the room. “Luke!” I whispered to myself in awe.
A few moments later, Chris walked out of the room, puffy eyed, but peaceful. “How are you?” I asked.
“That was the hardest thing I’ve ever done,” he said. “But God just said to me, ‘You’ll rebuild this crib for a son named Luke.’”
Exactly one year to the day after the birth of Luca, Luke was born. He looks exactly like his sister did, with a head full of thick black hair. We took him down to the ocean, so we could all be together and we talked about what a beautiful sister he has and how he’ll get to see her one day. He may not quite understand yet, but he will. Hopefully he will also understand what kind of God we serve, with his life being a testimony to God’s graciousness.
Today, whenever I see the ocean, I think of my baby girl and the light she still brings. She’s out there, somewhere—dazzling gold leaf reflecting the light of God.
Postscript
A few months after Luca was born, the Meador’s received a letter from the Arizona Children’s Hospital. A former co-worker of Chris—someone with whom Chris had lost touch years before—had donated a large sum in Luca’s memory, and with it several children’s lives were saved. The Meadors have no idea how he learned about Luca’s life or passing. With those saved lives, Luca’s life continues to bring light.
The Meadors are now a part of the Safe in Heaven ministry believing God hand picked it for them so that they could come alongside parents who experience the loss of their babies and offer them the hope that was given to the Meadors by trusting in him.
Permission and courtesy of Rock Church, one of the largest churches in the U.S. with a weekly attendance of over 15,000 people in three locations in San Diego County It is home to over 140 outreach ministries. © 2014 Rock Church
