Nay, we are but men. Rock!

I am happy–immensely happy, but at the same time, tragically, deeply anguished.  The perpetuation of my emotional dichotomy stems from the fact that my wife and I just found out that we were going to have another child.  That, in and of iteself, is mostly the source of my unbound joy; however, we also found out that we are not going to be the ones to raise our little one–that honor, in all its joy, belongs to Jesus.

You see, our little one was brought home from this world earlier than I ever could have imagined; I never would have thought that I could feel a part of me so barren, but so alive.  Not alive and blossoming with vivacity; rather, alive in the sense you get when you have a sudden, deep injury.  That part of me is rubbed so raw, bleeding, but feels so alive because of it.

I mourn the loss of my child, but how awesome would it be to be raised by God Himself? I mean, my dad was great, but he kinda pales in comparison.  Let’s see….a wooden house….or golden streets?  Which would you rather see every day? : )

Though it pains me that I will never be able to hold this baby, snuggle it in bed, sing it to sleep, and watch it grow, laugh, learn, and love, I do feel grateful knowing that my child is in the best of hands, and will be waiting there for me, welcoming me into the arms of the Father, who has raised my baby in His glorious perfection.

I am dying inside–but I rejoice in the Lord and all He has provided.

–Aaron