An invitation: the most costly gift I could possibly offer

Linking up with Velvet Ashes: The Grove, for this very personal post on the theme of Invitation.
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The first week of October 2016. A week permanently burned into my soul, changing my world forever.

I welcomed October on it's first warm day, chuckling ... our firstborn child, still in my womb, decided that she would finally make preparations for her long-awaited appearance. After quite the adventurous day of bumpy taxi rides, insane traffic, and unexpected relatives dropping in... my Love and I welcomed her into the world with much rejoicing in the midnight hours of the following day. Quite the spunky little one, even from the first moments of her newborn autonomy... with the lungs of a lioness. Healthy and perfect, she was everything we could have wanted.

After 48 beautiful, sleep deprived, blissful hours with her, she became mysteriously listless and started having erratic shrieking episodes and catches in her breathing. As the dawn broke, we rushed her to the hospital. It was the fastest I'd ever experienced their reception, and within 30 minutes... I heard the words: This child has sepsis. In a frenzy of activity, she was swooped out of my arms and hurriedly admitted to the NICU, leaving me standing with a handful of newborn clothing and blankets, still warm from her feverish skin.

We had named her Ayalon, after the valley of Aijalon in Joshua 10. A place of holy miracles. A place of divine intervention, through the faith-filled prayer of a mere man. A place where God brought victory for His people. We camped on these prophetic words, sitting on the coach in the NICU waiting room -- alternating between the sterile room, the doctor's office, and updating friends and family.

She took a turn for the worst. Our hearts dove, but we clung to hope. She rallied. We rejoiced. She responded to my touch, wrapping her hand around my finger as I whispered prayers over her. Then, less than an hour later, her heart stopped. There is no horror like that of watching people perform CPR on your child. I think I, too, had stopped breathing in those minutes. She responded. I finally exhaled. Test results came back. She was now showing signs of anemia, and we signed the papers for an emergency blood transfusion. We returned to that worn coach and prayed our hearts out.

We were carried on the prayers of so many, and felt supernatural peace God was working. It was touch and go. Her heart stopped again, and she fought her way back to us. She stopped breathing. They put her on a ventilator. She fought to breathe once more on her own and succeeded. We got to see her a couple more times. My Love ran to get a couple items from home, so we could stay the night at the hospital. He returned and we went together to get another update.

When we stepped into the NICU waiting area, I was acutely aware of the nurse’s face. She looked exhausted, and ... defeated. The last time I had seen this particular nurse, she had been pumping oxygen into my daughter’s lungs with a hand oxygen pump... as I was hurried away from the window and an electric ventilator was being wheeled in. Now, she stood slouched against the door frame, with sorrow and exhaustion in her eyes. I knew... it resonated through my body and my fuzzy brain. And then I immediately shoved it away. No. I would not give up hope. Divine intervention. Victory. A miracle. Ayalon. This is our fiery little daughter.

The doctor came to the doorway, as we were putting on the sterile coats to enter. I will not repeat the words he choose to use to break the news. Suffice it to say, I had to ask him in plain English if he was telling us she was gone. She was. Fifteen minutes before, after her fourth cardiac arrest, she was whisked from that little NICU bed and into the arms of Jesus... never again to face sickness, pain, or suffering. Complete. At peace. We walked in to see her little body... she had such a restful look on her face, it brought a sliver of comfort.

I want to fast forward. There are many details I could include, and may add later, but want to condense for brevity sake.

She was buried in the smallest cemetery plot I have personally ever seen. In a miniature coffin covered in red velvet with gold embroidery. I remember thinking red wasn't her color. But by the beautiful, personal hand of God... my breath was taken away when I saw the location of her grave. It was smack in the center of an enormous grove of 4.5 feet tall yellow Ethiopian meskel daisies in full bloom. The same daisies that bloom with vibrant ferocity for only a couple of weeks, marking a change in the seasons, and then quickly fade and die... until next year. Fleeting. Here and then gone. But loud and colorful, and not to be missed or ignored. Like our daughter.

We were carried supernaturally, with such peace and divine comfort, in those days and weeks. God does not take us through any grief or valley without providing His grace to empower and strengthen us. He was so near, even still IS so near. We clung to Job 1:21, quoting and singing, "The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away. Blessed be the name of the Lord." We rejoiced and gave His glory for the very real ways He was revealing Himself to us and holding us, and for the immense privilege of being chosen to love and carry Ayalon on this earth, and the gift of our 66 hours with her here.

I was given Angie Smith's book, I Will Carry You: The Sacred Dance of Grief and Joy in the weeks that followed. I underlined paragraphs on almost every page. This particular section stood out to me, as I sought His heart for His purposes in this loss, this sacrifice if you will:

“Is it possible that we are chosen to undergo something then all the while the Lord knows that it will be given to Him in sweet surrender? ... I pray that you continue to worship the Lord, keeping what He has given you until the moment you are called to give it away. ... And as the glass shatters all around you... know this... It was always meant to fall from Your hands. And He is glorified in the shattering.” (Angie Smith)

A couple of weeks later, I was making dinner listening to songs on my iPod. Sara Groves' song, "Open My Hand" came on...

“I believe in a peace that flows deeper than pain
the broken find healing in love
pain is no measure of His faithfulness
He withholds no good thing from us...
no good thing from us.
I will open my hands, open my heart....” (Sara Groves)

Tears poured down my face, and I recalled Psalm 84:11 - "No good thing does He withhold from those who walk uprightly." My heart was in absolute turmoil, "How then, God?!  How could this happen? How was our Ayalon not a good thing??? That You would take her from us? It doesn't make ANY sense!!!!" The Holy Spirit wrapped me in His love as He whispered, "No, My child, she WAS a very good thing. But what I am doing through this sorrow and suffering... My purpose... is a better thing... an even greater thing."

The very next song to come on my iPod shuffle was from Keith & Kristyn Getty's new hymn, “Perfect Wisdom of our God”:

 “...Teach me humbly to receive the solid reign of Your sovereignty.
...each strand of sorrow has its place, within this tapestry of grace.
So through the trials I’ll choose to say: ‘Your perfect will in Your perfect way.’”

 On Ayalon's one month birthday, had she still been with us, I was sitting facing the early sunrise. The Lord was asking me to surrender something to him... and I immediately started arguing with Him: "Lord, I already gave you my daughter, didn't I? ..." I stopped short, as I felt a weight of conviction settle over my spirit like a blanket.  I had been speaking the words of Job, "You gave and You have taken away." And He was revealing the underlying accusation in my heart... "You... You did this... You took her."

In that moment, He extended me an invitation... He asked me if I would actively, willingly offer my sweet Ayalon back to Him in worship rather than passively "allowing Him" to have taken her. What a subtle and yet crucial shift in my heart's attitude and posture. I accepted and right there, I willingly, actively, wholeheartedly offered my precious, beautiful daughter back to Him, declaring anew: Blessed be Your Name. Peace. A holy rightness of being aligned with Him. All glory be to our loving, sovereign Father... who reminded me that He, too, is intimately acquainted with the unique grief of offering up an only child, a firstborn.

My daughter is the most valuable gift I could possibly offer to Him, and she came from Him. What a holy privilege that He would entrust us with such a costly, priceless gift to offer back in a sacrifice of praise. He is worthy beyond measure.

"Glory be to God the Father! Glory be to God the Son! Glory be to God the Spirit! The Lord is my salvation!" (Keith & Kristyn Getty, bridge from The Lord Is My Salvation)

I've had glimpses of the Lord's hand at work through our little girl's life... and I smile through tears. He doesn't owe us any explanation for His ways, but He has been measurelessly gracious to invite us to peek into His heart's purpose in all of this. There were those who had dismissed her easily with the words, "It is no matter, you will have other children." At first, those phrases brought an agonized mama bear roar from my chest... but now I almost... gloat. Because, my friends, I KNOW my daughter's value--her incomparable worth--and how God has been using her life mightily for His glory, touching souls, calling rebellious hearts home. I now UNDERSTAND that the span of our lifetime here on earth is not what matters, but rather the weight of it.

And I chuckle to myself, because Ayalon's life was not to be missed or ignored. There was NO way... our little fighter. (I mean, c'mon... who defies death and comes back from cardiac arrest THREE times, at only 2 1/2 days old...) Even as I have seen her numerous times, unbidden, in my mind's eye... freely flitting around heaven bossing around the angels, leaning over the arm rest of the throne telling Jesus her thoughts, and her opinions. In her arrival and departure, she not only left permanent stretchmarks on my body and permanent imprints on our hearts, but she created holy ripples across time and eternity... for the glory of God. I am proud and honored to say she was ours.