Dear Noelle: A Letter to my Hope Baby

Noelle,

My dear, we miss you. Oh, we miss you. You’re missing from every day. There’s a hole in our family. How I want you! I got to wrap my mommy-arms around you in the hospital. You were a perfect baby. Full cheeks. Sweet hair. Plump lips. You were beautiful. I’m not over losing you. Though my grief is much different now these years later, it seems that yours are the tears that don’t stop being shed. And, I’m still waiting.

Jesus. That’s who you’re enjoying now. How blessed! How beautiful! How rich! How glorious! I’ve gotten to know him better since you went ahead. Much. And, what I know without a shadow of a doubt is that I have the hope of seeing you by his grace. It sustains me, my Noelle. His grace, his peace, his comfort, his presence.

Most of all, I have learned that I am needy for his grace.

Learning His Grace

By his grace, I am forgiven. By his grace you are free. None of this can we lay claim to on our own. We only have the right to become children of God because He made the ultimate sacrifice—which I scarcely begin to grasp.

Think of it! All that you experience. All that I have hope of experiencing. It’s all due to a gracious God who gives us what we could never merit.

I know that you already rejoice in this. I rejoice with you.

I sought to grieve you well, my dear daughter. And, I did the best I could do. But, I also had much self-righteousness buried in me while I was grieving. It’s hard to hold grace and self-righteousness in the same hand—impossible, I think. And so, I grieved sometimes without the grace that I have learned and am learning.

I hope you’ll forgive me. I wanted to show myself a faithful griever so badly. And, I know that my actions reflect upon you here.

The irony is that I was self-righteous out of love for Jesus. I wanted him to be so pleased with me because I love him so. But, I was pleading my goodness for my standing before him instead of his grace.

In terms of my salvation, it doesn’t matter how I grieved. It doesn’t matter for my salvation that I grieved faithfully or unfaithfully. What matters is that Jesus is good and kind and accepting of any who would come—even self-righteous me.

It’s a complicated web, I know—someone who loves Jesus in self-righteousness, grieves with all hope, and misses so much about grace. But, Jesus has been untangling it all with me. Thanks be to God. And, I can happily say that I am pleading for my eternity only Jesus himself now.

I am relying on him and not my faithfulness. My faithfulness was like filthy rags, so says the Bible. Only Jesus’ righteousness will do.

Grieving your loss “well” and my other “righteous” acts—those never could facilitate my connection with Jesus. He’s done a miracle of grace in my heart, my Noelle.

I hope you’ll forgive me for a grief seasoned with self-righteousness instead of grace. How far that is from the heart of God that I am still learning, day by day.

My Little Beacon

You, my daughter, have been a little beacon for me. I want you to know that. I did not know how dead inside I could be. But, your sweet life being ahead in glory has been used by the Lord to remind me where home is.

And he’s now showing me that I can let some of the sorrow I’ve been clinging to in my life go. I’ve known God so deeply in the sorrow of life that I want to keep meeting him there. He kindly says no. It’s time for me to release and let even happiness ride through, along with lightness, relief, rest, airiness, triumph, celebration, and joy in greater measure. I’m sure you’re “sending” some of your joy my way.

Well, that’s a lot about me. My journey, my learning, my conviction. You have your own journey, and I cannot wait to hear about it one day. What was it like to wake up with Jesus? What was it like to look into his eyes? What was it like to never live a life here and be instantly in glory—did it all make sense or did it have to be explained to you? If explained—who did the explaining? I want to know everything.

I get to ask your sister every day what school was like and how she is. Let’s just say that you and I have catching up to do.

I know you’re happy. I know you’re well. I am grateful for hope.

Closing Thoughts

You’re our loved one. You’d be ten, and a beautiful big sister—I can only imagine. I have this feeling that you were a tender, quiet soul. The kind that opens up to people she knows well and stays reserved otherwise. I feel you have a propensity for wisdom. I’ll find out in glory if I am accurate. Still can’t wait to meet you, my baby.

Just know that you’re a part of me. And, Jesus is my Love.

That’s the update on me, sweet one.

Know you’re loved by people down here. I am sure my grandparents and you have discussed it; they know my love ran (and runs) in your direction.

More another time.

In His Grace,

Mom

Lianna is author of Made for a Different Land: Eternal Hope for Baby Loss (Hope Mommies, 2019). More of her writing can be found at her website.

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