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Out Of The Mouths Of Babes Come Words Of Wisdom | |
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| God's Love for His Own
I nor my husband were attending Church when I met my tall dark handsome husband, had a whirlwind courtship and pretty soon were married. Our first son was born premature but appeared to be strong and healthy, we named him Michael, a good strong name. When Michael was just a few weeks old I had a dream, my baby had died, I saw the little white coffin, I woke my husband up crying, "No! No!". We checked the baby and he was fine. Pretty soon I forgot the dream, Michael was strong, healthy and such a happy baby. We decided we would have another baby soon, we wanted them to be close in interests so they would grow up as close friends as well as siblings. When Michael was thirteen months old I gave birth to my second son, we named him David (means beloved). David came home from the hospital with a cold, it seemed to get worse and worse. I took David to the military hospital where he was born. The doctor grabbed him out of my arms and rushed him to X-ray, I held him while they X-rayed him from every conceivable angle. We waited for the X-rays to be developed, good news, the X rays showed nothing. One day I was sitting holding David in my arms, watching my son Michael romp and play, I found myself telling God out loud "I don't have time, maybe when the boys are older, maybe when they're grown." I had visions of little league baseball and scouts and all the other things boys like to do. I guess God was calling me back, I don't remember Him talking to me, just my reply. When David was 3 months old, my friend Sue stopped by for a visit, her husband had dropped her off at my house. Like us they only had one car. After a while Sue needed to go home, my husband was going to drop her off at her house, he told me after he dropped Sue off he was going to play some pool at the base, I told him in that case I wanted to go with Sue and he could pick me up when he was through. I got Michael ready to go and, went to pick up David to get him dressed to go out. I started to pick David up and knew instantly that something was wrong, he was limp. I carried him into the kitchen and tried to give him mouth to mouth but, I was inexperienced and it wasn't working. I cried out to my husband "Barry come here," he was engaged in conversation with Sue and did not immediately respond. I guess I shrieked it the next time and instantly he was by my side. We ran to the car leaving Sue to take care of Michael as we rushed to the hospital, we did not want to wait for an ambulance. It was too late. The medics and doctors did everything they could but it was just too late. Someone had looked up my husbands records and saw he was Southern Baptist, and sent for a minister. I am Roman Catholic and when that minister walked through the door I went hysterical, because of my husbands beliefs David, like Michael had not been Baptized. The grief I felt was nothing to the pain I was feeling now. The Baptist minister tried to tell me that all babies that die go to heaven and there was no need to Baptize David. I pushed him aside telling him I would do it myself. Gently caught my arm and told me he would do it. This was truly a man of God, he put my feelings before his own beliefs and Baptized David right there in the hospital. For the next 6 weeks I became like a Zombie, the only thing I responded to was my son Michael, making sure he was taken care of. My husband did all the cooking and cleaning, I just sat there lost in my own world. I kept telling myself (at least I thought it was me) that Michael needed a mother. Slowly I began to do more things and one day after we had eaten (I ate maybe 2 or 3 bites, only because my husband always begged me to eat) I got up went to the kitchen and started to fill the sink to wash the dishes. My husband came into the kitchen and said "That's OK honey I will do them." My mother, who had come to help called my husband into the living room where I heard her tell him "If she wants to do something, let her, or you will never get your wife back." Shortly after that she went home knowing that at last I was beginning to cope. My husband worked most Sundays so, I got Michael ready and took two buses to get to Church. As the scriptures were being read I became aware of something over my head. I looked up but saw nothing. Slowly this thing (don't know what to call it) descended on me. As it passed over my head all the pain in my head and confusion left, it did not stop there, it continued on down, as it passed over my heart the pain there just melted away, but it did not stop there, it continued until it reached my very toes. I left the Church in perfect peace, the peace that surpasses all understanding. Jesus is right, the world does rob us of our peace, by Wednesday the pain would be back and I couldn't wait for Sunday to come. Every Sunday I had the same experience until I no longer needed it. After Mom had been home for about 4 weeks I got a letter from her saying that my young, two and a half year old niece was playing on her kitchen floor when, all of a sudden she stopped as though someone had called her name, twisting her head around, she looked out Mom's kitchen window, Mom looked to see what she was looking at but saw nothing. Lorraine then got up off the floor went to Mom and said "Don't cry for David anymore, David is happy, Jesus has David in His arms." We don't know if Lorraine saw an angel who told her this or, she saw Jesus with David in His arms, obviously she was too young to question, too young to know about Jesus or what death was. This was what I needed, I still had had doubts as to whether or not David's Baptism had been in time. I now knew that David was OK, that was when my healing began. I would like to tell you that from then on I was a model Christian but, that is not so, it took another 6 years for me to give my life to Jesus, ah, but, then that is another story. He is so loving and patient, He waited for me. He waits for all He calls His own.
Mary E. Cole
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