Stones of Remembrance

“Imagine a priceless vase or ornament is dropped on the floor and smashed to pieces. The woman who loved it kneels down. She picks up the pieces, one by one. She looks at each one in detail, turning it round, as if to remember where it once belonged. The vase was loved and so when it was shattered, every piece was worth picking up, no matter how small. A grieving person will often want to talk about the smallest detail of their loss. It is as if every broken piece is taken up and wept over. When you listen, you may feel that the detail was small, but it is part of something that was supremely valued, part of something dearly loved” (Colin Smith). Our Hope Babies are unique, precious, supremely valued, and dearly loved gifts from God to us; through this series, we speak about them together and remember them.  

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“Now I know in part; then I shall know fully,
even as I have been fully known.”
1 Corinthians 13:12b

I don’t know why my son, Zachary, went straight from the safety of my body into the loving arms of Jesus. I don’t know why he never got to play with the trucks waiting for him under the Christmas tree. I don’t know why Zach’s sisters never got to dress him up in their tutus and make him dance around the house with them. I don’t know why my daughter never got to cheer at her brother’s football game.

I don’t know.

But Jesus does.

I have hope knowing Jesus knows.

Letters to My Son

And I trust the Lord even when I don’t know. That is the essence of trusting—not knowing all the answers, while believing God’s reliable Word.

I don’t know now but someday I will. Someday I will stand face to face with Jesus and I will know completely. On that day when I stand face to face with Jesus, I will also be able to stand face to face with my Zachary! What a day that will be.

I only have a small piece of my priceless son—a short memory. A memory of expectation and anticipation. When Zach was stillborn at full term, there weren’t support groups like Hope Mommies, so I grieved alone. No one talked about their losses in an open forum. There weren’t any hope-baby-versaries. No balloon releases. No public remembrances.

For twenty-one years, I have written a letter to my son in a journal on his birthday. And I have never read those letters—until this year. This year, I drove to his graveside—for only the fourth or fifth time—and sat there and read through the book of my lament. It was a sweet, sweet reminder.

I was reminded of the grief and the grace. Though I was experiencing the worst grief possible, God was gracious enough to show me His love and compassion even in my struggles.

I was reminded of the hurt and the healing. As I read the words documenting my hurt and anguish, I also read the words of how as I looked to the Lord for comfort and peace; He brought healing to my heart.

I was reminded of the loss and the love.  Losing my son was the worst possible hurt my heart could imagine but as I chose to press into the Lord and believe His word when it says I will see my son again, I was overwhelmed by His love.

I was reminded of the hopelessness and the hope. Burying a child creates a chasm of hopelessness without the Lord but believing His Word builds a bridge of eternal hope.

I remembered.

Stones of Remembrance

In the Bible, when the Israelites finally crossed the Jordan River into the Promised Land, the Lord held back the river so they could cross on land. (Did you know God provided a way through the rough, threatening waters twice? The first time was when the Israelites left Egypt and God parted the Red Sea.) As a reminder of God’s faithfulness, Joshua instructed the leaders to stack twelve stones in the middle of the river and another twelve on the bank of the Promised Land.

This year, for my son’s twenty-first birthday, on his grave, I stacked stones of remembrance. Stones with Bible verses that reminded me how faithful God has been even in the hard times. Stones declaring that He is my hope.

Hope. The very definition of hope is the not knowing clearly now but believing in and longing for the day we will know—clearly and completely.

Dear Hope Mommy, trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding (Proverbs 3:5) because we have the assurance that we will know—someday. Being a Hope Mommy means we know Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross for our sins allows us to be reunited with our children. Hold on and be strong. Remember God is good and faithful and will meet you right where you are. But He won’t leave you there. He will draw you to His side—just like He holds your little one in heaven.

How do you remember your baby and God’s faithfulness to you both?

Shelly D. Templin is an author, speaker and blogger that shares a message of hope – with humor. She has three daughters, a son-in- law, and a granddaughter. Shelly lives in Texas with her husband, Jack, of 29 years and their two dogs.

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