Tuesday morning at 2:11 a.m. our friends’ baby took one last breath and slipped into the hands of Jesus. Gentle, healing hands much bigger than ours.
Her parents have known for six months as she fought to grow in her mama’s tummy, that short of a miracle, her breaths would be few, if at all.
Every time the doctors asked if they wanted to abort, they gently said “No”, grateful when the question stopped coming. They are strong. They cling to Jesus.
With a good idea of what was ahead, they read with faith and heartache, “I knit you together in your mother’s womb. You are fearfully and wonderfully made.” But she was. Continue reading
