The pale pink walls of the nursery beckoned to me when I walked past the open door. I strolled in and sat down on the wooden rocker. I began rocking back and forth, back and forth. The gentle rhythm calmed my somewhat frayed nerves.
My twin girls were due any day and I was anxious. It’s not normal for twins to be born close to or on their due date, but mine had decided to arrive in their own sweet time. Actually, it was God’s timing. These were my first children and I was in nesting mode. I’d been cleaning frantically for days and it felt good to sit and rest my weary body.
Could they be starting?
I hoped so!
Oh the joys of pushing and giving birth – only women understand this. Nothing will ever top that feeling. I was rejoicing in giving birth, praising God… when…
“CODE BLUE – PEDIATRIC – CODE BLUE”
My world spun out of control.
“Mrs.Jamison, keep pushing, please. We have to get this other baby out so we don’t lose her too.”
What? Lose her too? Oh God, please, no! God, what are they doing with my other little girl. Jesus…
A piercing cry filled the air.
“My babies, are they okay?”
“I’m sorry Mr. and Mrs. Jamison, we did everything we could… the first twin had the cord wrapped too tightly around her neck…. I’m so sorry… the other twin is fine.” As the Dr. said this he laid her on my tummy.
Tears streamed down my cheeks. Peter stood right beside me, tears running down his cheeks too. Then, “Oh, she’s beautiful.”
This is a ‘perfect’ day for a funeral – if there is such a thing. God how could you let this happen? How is it that I’m standing here burying one daughter while the other is at home? They are both supposed to be living, God! Is this drizzle from the sky your tears? God do you see my pain? Do you?! Tell me, how am I supposed to nurture Natalie when my heart is in shreds over the death of Natasha? How?
My grace is sufficient.
Okay, prove it.
The pale pink walls of the nursery beckoned me… not only that, I had to keep checking on Natalie. Fear was my constant companion, gripping me with fierce tenacity. We had removed everything from the nursery that there was two of, and now as I sat rocking Natalie in that same rocker I had sat in just weeks ago, I gazed down at her sweet little face, saw her tiny fingers wrapped around my thumb as she nursed hungrily.
I should be feeding two babies … oh, God…
Tears were never far from the surface.
“Tanya?” my husband called for me as he came through the door, just home from work.
“In the nursery, Peter.”
He walked in and as usual when he saw us together, a sad smile crossed his face.
“Peter, do you really think God’s grace is sufficient?”
“Tanya, it has to be. God promises us in His word that it is.”
“Okay, how long until I know it is then? Tell me that!”
“Honey… I don’t know… but please, keep talking to God; don’t shut him, or me, out.”
“I’ll try.” I whispered.
Days turned into weeks, weeks to months and Natalie grew into a curious little girl, crawling everywhere, exploring.
I talked to God often… asking Him to help me make it through each day. I was desperate for His grace, for His touch. I did realize that without Him I wouldn’t be making it, wouldn’t be able to mother this precious little girl… sorrow was always with me but so was joy… I was learning that God’s grace is sufficient when we yield to it.
One day when Natalie was about nine months old, she was on the kitchen floor playing with some pots, pans, and wooden spoons. She looked right at me and said…
I bent down and scooped her up in my arms, nuzzling my face into her sweet smelling baby neck. She squealed with delight, her arms flapping. I kept nuzzling… taken in by this moment of pure delight. Peter walked into this scene, took us both in his arms and held us tight.
Natalie squirmed to be let down. I set her down. She resumed banging the pots and pans, every once in awhile looking up, grinning real big…
God’s grace is sufficient.
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