"We lost Jenni yesterday evening".
Hadn't we celebrated the birth of Jenni's baby in our cell group yesterday afternoon ... premature and many complications ... but all was fine with both mom and baby?
Now my phone is the harbinger of terrible news... Jenni has gone. Surely not! I read the message again. This is the twenty first century! Mothers no longer die in childbirth! Is this a mistake? Medical science has all these complications covered, doesn't it?
A phone call to Jenni's mother confirms the message. I go numb with shock and disbelief.
I remember the blond haired, sparkle-eyed beauty who was my son's good friend throughout their school years. Her bright smile that never failed to melt my heart. The happy, innocent days of childhood play and friendship, Sunday School classes and shared joy.
Thoughts turn to her husband whose dreams of a happy family life lie shattered,
and the newborn baby who will never see her mother's beautiful face and loving smile,
and her elder daughter who sleeps, blissfully unaware that life as she has known these past three years will never be the same again,
and her loving and admiring parents who will never thrill at seeing her name on the caller ID or be able to share coffee or a meal together, as they have done for 28 years,
and brother, sister and friends who will feel the gaping hole of loss.
There are so many questions with no answers ... no words of comfort ... no understanding ... but to trust in God's sovereign wisdom (He who lost His own Son) ... and take courage from the apostle Paul:
We pray that you’ll have the strength to stick it out over the long haul—not the grim strength of gritting your teeth but the glory-strength God gives. It is strength that endures the unendurable and spills over into joy, thanking the Father who makes us strong enough to take part in everything bright and beautiful that he has for us. (Colossians 1:11b-12 The Message).
Rest in Peace, Jenni, until we meet again. Deepest sympathy to my special friend Ruth and the family.
