Crying at the Crib | Previous Challenge Entry

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TITLE: Crying at the Crib | Previous Challenge Entry
By Paul Linzey
05/17/21
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Crying at the Crib

Ninety days after arriving on the Army base, chaplains were put on the after-hours duty roster. When my turn came up, I was handed the logbook and beeper. I had absolutely no idea what to expect.

I got home about 4:30 p.m. that day, and planned to eat an early dinner before anxiously waiting for the pager to go off. Instead, no sooner had I walked in the door than the alarm sounded. I needed to go to the base hospital ASAP. So, I jumped in the car, prayed on the way, and because I was traveling opposite the heavy traffic, got there pretty quickly.

When I walked into the Emergency Room, the nurse told me there was a young couple whose baby had died, and the medical staff needed my help getting the mother to give the baby to them. I had no training for this kind of situation. No way to prepare for the gut-wrenching, raw emotions I would see in that young couple . . . or in myself. I walked into the room, shut the door, and faced a sobbing young woman who was holding a lifeless little baby in her arms. It took several hours, but I finally managed to persuade her to give the baby to the nurse. We cried together, and I reassured the young couple many times that they would survive and that the Lord would be with them through the pain. I went home about 1:00 in the morning.

As I walked into my house, I looked in on my own daughter, asleep in her crib, and about the same age as the baby who died. I went into her room, knelt beside the bed, thanked God for her, and cried again, this time for a long, long time. Before this night, I never even imagined what it might feel like to lose a child. Now, it tore me up just thinking about it.

I finally got to sleep around 2:00 in the morning, but about an hour later, the beeper went off again. I was needed at the hospital. As I walked in this time, the nurse said, “We have a lady who miscarried, and she wants to speak with you.” In all honesty, I felt drained with nothing more to give. But I stood there with that young lady, wept with her, then prayed with her. By now, I was running on empty.

Over the next few days, I wondered what I had gotten myself into. I didn’t quit or walk away, but I could have. Instead, I reflected on that night in Jefferson City, Tennessee, when God called me to be a Chaplain. I remembered the appearance of the moon as I heard God’s voice telling me what He wanted me to do. There was a long series of events that led me to this point, so I had no doubt that God called me to this ministry, and that He would provide the stamina to continue. But privately, I wondered where this trail would take me, and how many nights I would spend crying at the crib.

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