The Everlasting Light

In the wake of our losses my husband and I found ourselves in profound darkness. 

Our precious son, B, was stillborn on June 30, 2018, at 22 weeks. I wandered lost for a year as we tried to understand and navigate a grief we had never felt before, which was compounded by two early term losses, one in November 2018 and another in February 2019. In December 2019, we again said hello and goodbye. This time to B’s brother, Robert, who was also born at 22 weeks and with us for one precious hour.  

The grief wasn’t new anymore, it was like a knife in an open wound. Still, we found ourselves walking through the valley of the shadow of death again.

Being asked to let another child leave this world into the loving hands of the Lord was the moment I let go of everything I had. I walked away from the hospital with empty arms into darkness. The darkness felt complete and blinding. But the promises of the Lord through John’s gospel kept my eyes focused on His presence that I could feel but struggled to see. John 1:5 proclaims: 

“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”

I dropped to my knees more than once in desperate prayer. I searched for the light. I thought long and hard about what exactly the light is that John was referring to. He was referring not just to goodness, but to the Lord, Himself. 

Jesus Christ died for our sins to give us life everlasting. He defeated death. 

….“Death has been swallowed up in victory.”
“Where, O death, is your victory?
Where, O death, is your sting?”
1 Corinthians 15:54-55

It’s hard for me to imagine. Death still feels so final. In moments where I’m gripped by lies, I turn to John 1:5 as a bold reminder that God has the final say, and He is present and good even in tragic situations—in ways I cannot understand. He is the light.

I can find peaceful rest knowing His sacrifice gave my babies life everlasting. I can dream endlessly about the life they are living to the fullest in heaven, in His presence. 

Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.” Matthew 19:14

How beautiful that we have a Lord that finds children’s lives to be so valuable—that our Lord understands our love for our children. His sacrifice fills me with the hope that we will one day be reunited. That they are welcoming each family member in Christ to eternity with open arms. What a gorgeous light this is. What truth that washes over me amidst my grief! 

The light in John’s gospel reminds me of His promises, that my boys are with Him, and I will see them again. One day my family will be made whole. Jesus and His promises are light in the darkness, a light the leads directly to heaven and our babies. 

His light can shine through me, too, if I let it. What a challenge that can be for my grieving, hardened heart. However, even in the thickest of grief spells, I can feel His love like a light if I allow myself to look for it. I feel it with every butterfly visit, every powerful sunset, every flower blossom in my garden. All little gifts to bring light into my world. All gestures from the good Lord above that He has not forgotten me. 

I hope I can always be like John and proclaim with unwavering certainty that the darkness has not overcome His goodness and light. Nor will it—Amen! 

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In addition to her Hope Babies, Paige is a mom to Joseph John here on this earth. She and her husband are avid gardeners of wildflowers, roses, herbs, and veggies at their home in Texas. In the quieter moments you’ll find her running, knitting, or reading.

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