All Will Be Well

“All will be well. All will be well” … the song plays to me from memory…

This past Good Friday we celebrated the second birthday of our seventh child. This child, our son John Michael, was born with a genetic disorder affecting the 18th chromosome (Trisomy 18). Though this condition proved fatal, we were so very blessed to be able to cuddle and sing to our sweet baby boy for two miraculous days of life . I’ve been in the process of writing a book about this experience. I try to quiet my mind so that I can go back in time and write from memory. Sometimes this process is excruciatingly painful… always, it is healing.

Shortly after my son’s death, a friend gave me a CD with various meditative songs. These songs were composed to help people experience Christ as they sit in adoration of Him. I clearly recall those days of heavy sadness as I lay there with empty arms so hungry for my baby. I was heartbroken without his soft fuzzy hair to bury my nose in. My tears would flow without ceasing as I would listen to this music over and over. The one song that I clung to repeated the words, “All will be well…all will be well”. Those words stirred my faith to believe that I would one day have the strength to smile again. Those words enabled me to pull through the darkness that I’m sure would be similar to the loss and immense grief the apostles must have felt during that second day Christ lay in the tomb.

On Good Friday. My husband, sister, and I stood by our little boy’s grave singing Happy Birthday as our tears mingled with the pouring rain. It seemed the whole world was crying. Next came Holy Saturday… I still missed my son. Jesus still would have been in the grave. And then came Resurrection Sunday. This year we celebrated the second anniversary of John Michael’s death on Easter.

I had originally felt the timing was backwards. Good Friday seemed a better fit for the sadness of John Michael’s death. And the Joy of Easter seemed a better time to remember the elation of his being born alive as we relished his every breath. Yet, God revealed His perfect timing to me as I sat in the solemn church on Good Friday and thought of the sadness Blessed Mother must have felt at her Son’s death. I realized that both she and I knew our sons were born to die. I had learned that Trisomy 18 is a condition that occurs during conception. John Michael was conceived with this disorder that doctors had termed “incompatible with life”…(more on that another day!) We knew he would not have long with us yet we were certain he was here to share God’s love with all who learned of him. And though the connection of our son’s death with Easter may have been very clear to others it was slow to dawn on me. I now know that this Easter Sunday, we not only can remember the sadness of John Michael’s tiny body falling prey to the sting of death but we can also celebrate his soul’s rising to God’s presence.

Thank You Father for the gift of my son. Thank You Father for the gift of YOUR Son. Because of Your Son’s death and resurrection, John Michael can rest in Your arms and I can rest assured, knowing that “ALL WILL BE WELL”.