Twenty years ago today was one of the saddest days of my life.

It was the day we learned that our five-month-old grandson Elijah did not survive the surgery to repair his tiny heart.

As we joyfully welcomed Anthony, our first great-grandchild, this weekend, I thought about how the Master Weaver has interwoven the light and dark threads of my life ~ the incredible joys and sorrows that have shaped me into who I am today.

Elijah was born on December 2, 1993, the fifth child of our daughter Diane and her husband, Mark. When this hospital picture was taken, they had no clue of the trauma that would happen in a few short hours.

They took him home thinking he was a healthy baby boy, but soon knew that something was wrong as his little body became increasingly cool and he became listless. It happened after a heart “valve” closed ~ which should happen in all babies a day or so after birth. However, when it happened to Elijah, the blood no longer traveled to his lower extremities.

By the time Mark and Diane and the doctor knew there was an emergency, he was rushed to Maine Medical in Portland, Maine, and hooked up to life-giving machines.

I quickly drove to Maine to help care for the other children, as Mark and Diane needed to be at the hospital.

Surgeons tried an experimental surgery to repair his heart ~ which they declared temporarily successful.

By the way: in the above picture, Abigail ~ the granddaughter who made us great-grandparents over the weekend ~ is the little girl in her daddy’s arms. 🙂

Elijah at two months.

He spent as much of his short life in the hospital as at home due to heart and surgery complications.

Cerwin and I visited in April to see him and help with the other children during doctor and hospital visits. It was a great period of time for him and us.

I went back to Maine again in May because his little heart needed another surgery ~ which he did not survive.

It was one of the most painful days of my life and in the life of our family ~ especially for Mark and Diane.

I  stitched this picture in his honor and memory, which is on the wall with the stitchings of our other grandchildren.

I look at it and wonder what he would look like today as a twenty-year-old.

Would he look like either of his brothers ~ Josiah or Hezekiah?

Though I cried with gut-wrenching sobs that day and in the days that followed, I never doubted God’s will or purpose for Elijah’s life, because He is the one who formed his little body.

His tiny body was lovingly placed in little a casket ~ beautifully designed by Mark and Bianca ~ friends of Mark and Diane ~ and buried in a graveyard not far from our house.

We planted a small dogwood tree that summer ~ in our backyard ~ in his memory.

I asked the funeral director if we could have the temporary grave marker ~ to place next to the tree ~ when the permanent stone was put in place at the grave.

He granted my request.

The little tree has been beaten up by the winds and weather, and one time a large branch landed on it, temporarily changing it’s shape.

It has grown tall and beautiful during the warm spring and fall seasons.

Right now ~ today ~ twenty years later ~ it is filled with beautiful dogwood blooms.

 Elijah, we know that we will see that great smile again someday.

We cry now and then (I’m crying now) when we feel the pain of not being able to hug you like we do our other grandchildren, or enjoy your birthday parties, or take you out for meals.

But mostly we have continued to live ~ walking by faith with God ~ the same God you live with in a way that we can only imagine.

I wonder if you know that your big sister, Abby became a mother three days ago and that you are now an uncle to a cute little guy named Anthony.

I missed you today, Elijah.