Micah's Smile

If this is how wide Micah's smile is on a nice spring day with his parents, how much wider is his smile now that he is in the midst of his Savior?

More on Purpose

I've thought a significant amount about God's purposes for Micah. While I will never know all of the purposes God accomplished through Micah, I know I should not underestimate the purposes he successfully accomplished.

Lorraine Boettner says, “Clearly, accomplishment in life cannot be measured in terms of years alone. It often happens that those that die young have accomplished more than others who live to old age. Even infants, who sometimes have been with their parents only a few days, or even hours, may leave profound influences that change the entire course of the life of the family. And undoubtedly, from the Divine viewpoint, the specific purpose for which they were sent into the world was accomplished. It is our right to neither to end life prematurely, or to insist on its extension beyond the mark that God has set for it.” Lorraine Boettner, Immortality (Philadelphia: Presbyterian and Reformed Publishing, 1975).

In his funeral meditation for Owen Schramek, Pastor John Piper similarly noted that God can work great purposes in each and every life, regardless of how long that life is on earth. “God's designs for Owen were decided before he was born. He would exist for the glory of God. Ten minutes of that work was on the earth. The rest will be in heaven. None of us can even begin to estimate the magnitude of either. Who knows what has been set in motion on earth by the birth and death and life of Owen Shramek. It would be wild and unwarranted folly to think he has not changed the world.” http://www.desiringgod.org/ResourceLibrary/Sermons/ByOccasion/19/1687_Funeral_Meditation_for_Owen_Glenn_Shramek/

While I know I will never know all of God’s purposes for Micah, I think it is permissible to guess what some of them could be.

1. Micah's death drove us to our knees

A friend told me yesterday at lunch that Micah's death shattered his conception that tragedy and heartbreak is what happens to people outside of our "bubble"--these things might happen in the Middle East or Haiti, but not to us. When tragedy like this happens, our only response is to cry out to God in pain. Our friends and family--and so many kind and generous people who didn't know us beforehand--have been heartbroken for us.

Jesus said, "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted." Matthew 5:3-4. To the extent that people have trusted more in Christ, or were drawn closer to God, or who have cried out to God in tears, or even those who have asked difficult questions of God for the first time, than Micah’s short life served a very noble purpose.

2. Micah's funeral gave glory to God, not anyone else

Could it be that, in some way, Micah’s short life actually made his funeral MORE purposeful? For every one person that might be positively impacted by the work of the Holy Spirit in our lives, there might be another person who was negatively impacted by our sin. For example, if it were my funeral, my funeral would be too much about me, and not enough about God. The fact that none of us were able to know Micah on earth as an adult made his funeral service about God, without having Micah himself in the way. God created and sustained Micah, caused Micah to breath and sleep and giggle on this earth for about 9 months, and then to take his last breath. And then God, in His grace, saved Micah eternally. It is only fitting that Micah's funeral was about God, and not about Micah. So it should be with all of our funerals.

3. Micah's death points to the gift of free salvation.

Ephesians 2:8,9 says, "For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast." Just as Micah's funeral was more purposeful, so also is his salvation a testament to God's saving work on the cross. There was nothing that Micah did to earn his salvation. But neither is there for anyone else. What a better place to display the awesomeness of the gift of salvation than an infant's funeral.

4. Micah's death puts parenting, and everything else in life, in perspective

For so many friends of ours who attended the funeral, parenting is such a big deal. Having children of their own, they were able to empathize with our deep grief. And for them to see our loss is so significant because for them, as it was for us, the worst thing that could possibly happen in our lives. As much as we try to be good parents, we cannot control children falling out of chairs and pneumonia and the attention and care of doctors or emergency responders. God is in control, and his ways are not our ways. "For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are my ways your ways, says the Lord." Isaiah 55:8. While good parenting is vitally important, I think that Micah's death is a reflection of the fact that God's eternal purposes outweigh other good things, such as good parenting. I pray that Micah's death reminds us constantly of the centrality of God in all things.

God's purposes for Micah are found in the summation of all the God-honoring things that have come about in our lives by reason of Micah’s short, sweet life and sudden, unexpected death. As far as I can tell, Micah's legacy is that our life is not about us, about our good deeds or our bad deeds, about our accomplishments or about the family we come from. Our purpose, our reason for existence, lies in God alone.

Imagining Micah & Me

Following Micah’s death, I have spent a considerable amount of time, and space on this blog, imagining what our life would be like now if Micah were still with us. I’ve pictured scenes from the life that I thought I would have with my son. I don’t think that my imagination will ever stop. If the Lord sees fit to have us continue in this life, I think I’ll always consider what life would be like at that point in time with Micah. We can look ahead and miss those first days of school, or playing with his little brother in the backyard, or perhaps playing right field or point guard or left wing.

In C.S. Lewis’ A Grief Observed, Lewis noted how his deceased wife would have disapproved of Lewis’ ongoing practice of projecting what “H” (his wife) would be doing now, if she were still with him. Lewis noted that, the longer he kept up his practice of projecting what “H” would say now or do now, the greater the disparity between the “real” H and the “imaginary” H—the wife that he had created in his imagination.

Of course, our situation is different. While Lewis knew “H” as his wife, we never knew our son as a grown adult. We weren’t blessed with the opportunity to know the sound of his voice, the way he interacted with others, what he desired or what he looked like. I know he likes cartoons, but which ones are his favorites? He loves to eat, but what is his favorite ice cream flavor? I would throw soft balls his way, but I couldn’t determine whether he was left-handed or right-handed. Does he prefer to swim, or skate, or run, …or maybe just sing? Our love for our son is certain; what Micah Robert Wessman is like, as a boy and as a man, are merely abstract projections for us on this side of eternity.

The stalwart truth of God’s sovereignty takes the steam out of my imaginations of the life I wanted with my son. God ordained the number of Micah’s days on this earth, and his days were numbered just less than 9 months. “All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.” Psalm 139:16. We can say with certainty that God never created Micah to be with his parents and his little brother all at the same time. Before Micah was conceived, it was certain that would never be such a family picture.

But just as Psalm 139:16 states that God did not ordain our family to be together, so also scripture gives me the opportunity to imagine – not in what I have Lost but to imagine what my life with Micah WILL BE on the New Earth. My imagination seems better served to imagine what it will be like to hold my son, at long last, when I see him again on the New Earth.
In Revelation 21, we are told about the New Jerusalem. “And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God.” While we can’t realistically say that we know what he would be doing with us NOW (on our earthly life during our earthly existence), my imagination allows me some foretaste as to what my life will be like with Micah for all eternity.

In the movie, “The Passion of the Christ,” the Jesus character comes upon his mother, Mary, as he is carrying his cross toward Golgatha. The pain of her son’s inevitable death is etched on Mary’s face. Jesus looks at his mother and promises her, “Behold, I am making all things new.” (Revelation 21:5). Our living hope is that Jesus has made all things new, and is continually making all things new, including the death of a little boy---by his death and resurrection. We can cry in hope because of the hope that God will redeem it all in the end. By making “all things new,” I believe that EVERYTHING will be made up for: every lost embrace, every lost look, every laugh of my little boy that I didn’t hear; every meal together; every lost holiday, birth day party; all those lost Christmas and Thanksgiving dinners; each of those days I would have taken him to school, to baseball or band practice; even those high school days when he wanted nothing to do with his parents; all these days, all these moment will be redeemed in the end.

After Steve Curtis Chapman lost his daughter Maria Sue in a tragic accident, pastor Greg Laurie sent a note to Chapman saying, “Maria Sue is a bigger part of your future than she is of your past.” I pray that my imagination be used not mainly to mourn what was lost and was never ordained to be, but to point me toward my future eternal life with my son Micah.

A Gift Unopened

A poem by Micah's Uncle Reed and Aunt Rachael:

Micah we wanted to write you
So we wrote a little poem
To tell you how we’re feeling
Your first Christmas at home

Your parents would have told you
About this Christmas story
How two-thousand years ago
Jesus left his seat of glory

And in a cold manger born
Such humble state begun
From angels, kings, and shepherds
His high praises were sung

This Jesus grew up, you would learn
He was no normal man.
Even prophets of old foretold
He’s part of a sovereign plan.

Your parents would have told you
Bedtime stories for sure
About amazing miracles
How He was perfect and pure

And what significance to learn
Payment of sins He sought
Unless He died and rose again
Christmas is for naught.

Like a lamb on to slaughter
On Calvary’s hill you’d find
He took our sins for himself
And He had you in mind.

By now you know the whole story
Clearly you now can see
I’m sure Jesus has told you
As you sit upon his knee

For being in God’s presence
To what can we compare?
There’s nothing quite like it
I’m sure you’re now aware.

We’ve opened gifts this Christmas day
But there’s a sad sight to see
One gift remains unopened
Laying under the tree

Amidst the bows and paper
A beautiful package still lay
Written in fine letters
“To Micah” does it say

We certainly do miss you
To see that big bright smile
To watch you open your gift
And giggle for a while

But the giggle we imagine
Is nothing really like
The Jesus inspired giggle
To Joy’s no end delight

It makes that gift unopened
Seem pale, old and small
For even as we speak
You’re having the best Christmas of us all.

So as we sit and ponder
That last gift under the tree
It makes our hearts hurt
But there’s great hope for eternity.

Our Christmas Blessing

Cory and I decided this year that we need to take a break from most of our annual Christmas traditions: decorations in the house; buying and receiving gifts; baking Christmas cookies and spending time watching children become excited for Christmas day. This year, as the pain has been so intense, we are venturing out of town to enjoy the beaches of Mexico.

Before we left for our vacation, this morning we were able to have an ultrasound to check on the health and development of our “BabyTwo” (as Cory calls “it”). We are thrilled to report that BabyTwo looks great and is developing very well.

We were able to see, quite clearly, that we will be having another boy, God willing, in May of 2010. Tears flooded our eyes in excitement, nervousness, and sadness. Excitement, in the thought of loving another child. Sadness, because Micah will not be able to play with his baby brother on this side of earth. Nervousness, of having another boy and the possibility of this baby resembling the likeness of Micah.

I have such a flood of emotions, one of which is feeling terrified to become a mother to another baby boy. I so long for Micah to be here to meet his brother and to watch the two boys grow up playing ball, running after each other and becoming best buddies at only 19 months apart. I pray that having another boy will keep me close to the memories of Micah’s life and will continually be a reminder of the love that I have for my first born. I am so thankful for this new life and that God has blessed us with another child as I know God created me to be a mother to His children.

Micah in the Snow

Tonight, I pictured what my life might be like if Micah was with us during this Christmas season. There are so many things I wanted to do with my son in a Minnesota winter—so many lost experiences that I thought we would share together.

I can picture us heading out together for some time in the snow. I can see him stumbling along in the snow in his snow pants and coat, so bundled up in the cold Minnesota air that one can hardly make out his little eyes and nose. I can feel those little arms embrace me again as we walk the streets of our neighborhood in the dark, taking in the sight of the Christmas lights. I can see his mouth agape as he consumes the sight of each house with Christmas lights, looking at each successive house as it was the only house that ever displayed lights. I can see his little hand raised to catch, with considerable curiosity, some falling white snowflakes.

I can picture us heading down the sledding hill near Lake Nokomis in south Minneapolis. I can hear his shrieks of delight coming from those little lips as we slide down the hill together. I can hear the big, hearty laughter interrupted by the silence that lasts only for that moment after our sled hits a bump in the snow and we fall face-first into the snow together. I can hear the silence only for an instant, until I hear again the sound of more gut-busting laughter. I can feel the cold on his rosy red cheeks after his daddy kept him out in the bitter winter wind far too long.

I can imagine holding Micah in my arms above the rows of onlookers at the Holidazzle parade in downtown Minneapolis together. I can picture the quizzical look on his face as he sits in Santa’s lap, not sure whether to laugh or scream at the old man and his silly red outfit. On the way home, I can see him sleeping in the backseat of our Toyota, tuckered out from all the fresh air and lights, his blonde hat hair shooting in every direction.

On Christmas morning, I can imagine Heather and I taking turns opening our son’s Christmas gifts, curious to determine which of his mother’s bargains he will play with first, only to discover he spends most of the morning playing with the wrapping paper. I can picture him chasing our dog Sadie around in his Christmas outfit, nearly knocking the Christmas tree over on multiple occasions, and getting far too close to the fire in the fireplace. I can feel what he feels like in my arms as he sits and patiently listens to me read the story of how baby Jesus was born in the manger.How we grieve the loss of our son and of our time together. How we mourn the loss of those desired experiences of just being mother to son, father to son. How we hurt so deeply because of the loss of the opportunity to love so unconditionally.

The Micah Wessman Foundation

Following Micah's death, Heather and I benefitted from a tremendous support network. So many family members and friends provided us with their love through their prayers as well as other forms of practical assistance. We believe that not everyone who loses a child has (or will have) the same access to this support network.

Last week, we incorporated the Micah Wessman Foundation for the purpose of funding some ideas we have for providing practical assistance to families grieving the death of a young child.

Here is our mission statement:
The Micah Wessman Foundation is a Christ-centered ministry assisting families grieving the death of a young child. The Foundation provides assistance with practical immediate needs of grieving families, logistical and educational resources for their support networks, as well as financial support for those grieving families seeking to benefit from Christ-centered counseling or retreat opportunities.

The Foundation's mission statement is executed by providing the following forms of practical assistance:
(1) Care baskets to the family, which include items of practical assistance, such as day-to-day living necessities, gift cards to local restaurants and grocery stores, and books and audio media;
(2) Lists of local families, Christian counselors, and Bible-based churches who are able and willing to provide Christ-centered spiritual counsel and support;
(3) Logistical backup support and Biblical counsel to those individuals and groups seeking guidance on providing support to grieving families; and
(4) Scholarships to allow grieving families to attend Christ-centered grief retreats, such as Smile Again Ministries in Cross Lake, Minnesota.

The Foundation will be funded, in part, by some of the memorial contributions provided to us following Micah's death. While we don't know where the Lord will direct us in our ministry in the coming years, we believe that this Foundation will help us to honor Micah's memory.