Those strange things in life that seem insignificant but later you discover them so very important? How God purposes these little details and knits them together into a story.
This is hope.
Two years ago, exactly two years ago, when our family of three was tucked all snug in a cozy apartment. When we discovered the news of baby taking shape in my womb. When we were most concerned with finding a home to purchase. Our drive to church took us past Forest Hill Cemetary. It had for years but then, a question from a little voice in the back seat. "Do we know anyone buried in that cemetary?"
An odd question for sure, what having driven this route so many times, but she was one for questions. We couldn't give a name, but were certain that there must be someone we had known whose body lay there. Our answer satisfied her, until the next time we passed. Again it came,"Do we know anyone buried in that cemetary?"
We passed this place four times a week. Sunday mornings to and from our place of worship and on Wednesday evenings for AWANA. The question, unfaltering. Every time.
"Do we know anyone buried in that cemetary?" And our answer never changed.
The months past. The baby grew. Our address changed to a little house in town.
And then one day, I woke up to the sun golden through the leaves in the tree outside my window. A golden so bright it seemed strangely heavenly. The morning held an air of expectation. My companion gone to work, I woke slowly and opened Psalm 18 to match the date of the day: May 18.
What odd verses, I thought, wondering if baby would arrive today. It is our family custom to take the Psalm that corresponds with the date and gift it a birthday Psalm. Would this baby have Psalm 18?
"The cords of death encompassed me, and the torrents of ungodliness terrified me. The cords of Sheol surrounded me; the snares of death confronted me. In my distress I called upon the Lord, and cried to my God for help"
It is a fiery Psalm. An incredible Psalm. Words of the power of God.
It became apparent, as the day unfolded, that this baby was to arrive today. Psalm 18 would belong to this active life that found every occasion to kick and move and had waved to me the night before as I sat in a tub of water to ease my aching body.
The day brought baby to our arms, but not as we planned. A little boy with a head of dark hair, he had left us before he met us. With the "cords of death" around his neck, Jesus took him from his safe little place and straight to the realms of endless day. Psalm 18 was his, indeed.
We laid his body in the local cemetary, the one we had passed four times a week for the past 9 months. The question could be answered now, but she never asked it again.
God knew. And in these ways and so many others - He handed us hope. Hope that had prepared us - unseen. And hope that told us this hurt was not meaningless.
"As for God, His way is blameless; the word of the Lord is tried; He is a shield to all who take refuge in Him. For who is God but the Lord? And who is a rock, except our God," Psalm 18:30-31
