Missing Audrey and Luke

Tonight, after our youngest son, Jack, and his wife Molly and their two darlings left our house, I went outside and took a look at our neglected yard. Five out of the eight months of 2008 we have spent in Nashville and/or Georgia. Yard work has not even been on our radar. Who cares about the yard when you have lost two little souls?

We saw our beloved Audrey Caroline on April 7 for the first and last time, saying good bye to her just hours following her delivery. Todd and Angie welcomed their cherub with open arms and shouts of joy at her live birth. The doctors had given hope for a life expectancy of perhaps 2 or 3 minutes and predicted she would struggle for every breath. Instead, the Lord gave us 2 1/2 wonder-filled hours with little 3 lb. 2 oz. Audrey. She was free of suffering and never showed any signs of labored breathing. We all (grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and dear friends) held her, prayed over her, told her how much we loved her, took in her lovely features, kissed her sweet baby face, explained we would never forget her, and sang over her. Peace filled the room. It was as if we were standing on holy ground; Jesus' presence was so real. Her heart simply stopped beating. We miss you so much, darling baby Audrey.

Just three weeks before we said good bye to Audrey, Luke Sponberg made his entrance into the world in Georgia. Greg and Nicol were absolutely thrilled to embrace this 9 lb., handsome boy. Thick, dark brown hair covered his perfectly round head after being delivered Cesarean. We were all so grateful for his healthy entry into this world with no complications. His future looked so bright. Luke's older sister, Summer, couldn't wait to get her hands on him as he was brought out of the delivery room in his daddy's arms. She kept saying, "hold it, hold it." Luke was the first Sponberg grandson. "The Sponberg name will live on," Nicol journaled.

Life is such a mixed bag. Here we were acutely aware of our precious Todd and Angie facing the impending loss of Audrey at any time now, while at the same time we were enjoying the blessing of a second grand baby boy in less than 3 months. Jack and Molly, had delivered their son on December 31, 2007. What an amalgamation of joy and sorrow and hopeful anticipation and horrible dread. We tried to prepare ourselves for Audrey's departure and concurrently take in the wonder of two new grandsons in this short span of time. We were so grieved for Angie and Todd but were exultant in the gifts of Jackson and Luke. Living became very complicated and emotions ran every which way.

Luke was with us for 10 short weeks, 71 days. As I stood in the yard tonight not knowing where to begin, I just began to sob. I sobbed yesterday as well as I walked Altar Road praying for my children who are forever altered by their losses, and asked the Lord to allow me to bear some of their terrible burden of grief. I numbly began raking leaves and remains of shrubs Jim had just trimmed. At first, I felt overwhelmed but knew some work had to be done. The for sale sign just pounded into the ground in front of our house kept gnawing at me to get enough strength together to make some progress. I set a small goal of cleanup and then noticed how weedy and grassy the ground had become around two huge walnut trees that grace our property. It felt good to dig into the soil with my bare hands and water it with my tears. Oh Luke! how I wish I could hold you again. I miss you so much, darling boy.

On Thursday, we will bury Lukey in Nashville very close to Audrey. The decision is explained by Greg on his blog. As I clear the ground around the tree, the grief hits hard and mercilessly. We already did this once, Lord. Why again? Why ever? A grandchild should never go before a parent and what about before the child's grandparents? It's so out of sequence. Why couldn't I have gone in Luke's place? Death is such an ugly enemy. God never wanted it. Man chose it.

Once again we look death in the face. It's a face none of us ever dreamed we would stare into so intensely, twice within seven weeks, relinquishing two babies. Truly, life here on earth has become a vale of tears. If this were all there were, Paul says he (as well as us) would be of all men most miserable. After 44 years in ministry, believe me, we know the best is yet to come. Audrey and Luke are more alive than ever before. Eternity never ends, and the real living will begin in Glory. No more good byes. No more tears. No more sorrow. Until then, as we continue to ache for them, we place our hand in the Hand of Jesus and allow Him to carry us. We will continue by the grace of God to lay our grief at the foot of the cross. Luke and Audrey have gone before, but for those of us grandparents who remain behind and have lost our grand babies, Isaiah 46:3 and 4 says, ". . . you whom I have upheld since you were conceived and have carried since your birth, even to your old age and gray hairs. I am he, I am he who will sustain you. I have made you and I will carry you. I will sustain you and I will rescue you."

Father, once again, your Word comes rushing to our aid. Thank you, Lord for rescuing us over and over again. Thank you for your sustaining right hand of righteousness. Thank you that despite the reeling grief, you promise you have your way in the whirlwind and the clouds are the dust of your feet. Thank you, Lord, that you are yourself a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. Thank you, Father, that you and the Godhead intentionally decided on a plan of redemption for all of mankind, even though it meant sending your son to the cruelest and most humiliating of deaths--even the death on a cross. Jesus, you laid down your life willingly for us. What a hero you are. Thank you that you do not change. There is absolutely no shadow of turning with you.

There are so many things I cannot control. But I can choose to surrender. I can choose to allow you to rescue me. I can choose to trust you and continue to walk with you down this new path of sorrow. I can choose not to walk it alone. I can choose to call in my distress, and you promise to deliver me. You will answer me in the secret place of thunder. And just as you granted consolation and joy to those who mourned in Zion, so you will give me an ornament of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, the garland of praise instead of a heavy, burdened, and failing spirit--that I might be called an oak of righteousness, the planting of the Lord that you may be glorified. Isaiah 61:3