I was going to write a story about a sweet gift the Lord gave me yesterday. But I have changed my mind.
It’s Monday night. The NCAA championship is tonight. Michigan State vs. North Carolina. I remember the last time that NC won the National Championship. My memories are vivid and I have a very specific reason for cheering for NC.
Four years ago, I was living with a friend near Highlands, North Carolina. This friend was expecting a baby and was on bed rest for the duration of her pregnancy. I was staying with her and her husband to help with the house and the cooking.
In the end of January 2005, Drew was born two months premature in a hospital in Chapel Hill, NC. He was healthy, for the most part, and there were times when it really looked like my friend and her husband were going to have a son for keeps.
Sometimes, pain comes. When it does it often appears useless, meaningless, pointless, and any other adjective that fits. It doesn’t make sense. My friends had lost three babies before Drew was born. It seemed unfathomable that God would choose to take another baby away from them.
The last week in March, I drove up to Chapel Hill to stay for a week. I held Drew in my arms and thanked God that He had seen this baby that I had spent so much time with en utero safely into the world.
The evening after I met Drew for the first time, I watched the Final Four with my friends. I became a Tar Heels fan. I returned home, rejoicing that my friends had a son and that I had finally been able to meet that son in person.
A few days later, Drew became sick. His little life quickly spiraled downward. During the week that I held my breath, praying God would spare Drew’s life, I watched the National Championship in which North Carolina took home the trophy.
That same week, God chose to take Drew home.
But what a sweet God who gives us the assurance that every story of one of His children always has a happy ending. Always.
Last week, I joined with thirty other friends in an Airport and waited eagerly for three travelers to arrive. Two of those travelers were my friends who had lost their baby four years ago. The third traveler was their adopted little girl from Guatemala.
Stories, good stories, always have a little pain, a little heartache, and a little conflict. Stories, good stories, always see their characters triumph over that pain, that conflict. We close the book, satisfied that the characters will live happily ever after.
In our own stories, the stories where God is king and we belong to Him, we can be satisfied that no matter what pain, what heartache, what conflict, we will triumph over it and live happily ever after. Even if that happily ever after is not here on earth, it will be forever in eternity. What a blessed assurance.
Oh God, who could ask for anything more?