by Lianna Davis
– Homeward Bound Series – Lianna’s Story –
I hung a new ornament on my tree this year—an angel. I bought it in memory of my daughter, Noelle, who was stillborn nine years ago. My grandfather called Noelle an angel—the similarity being that she had never chosen sin, just like the angels in glory. Thinking of Noelle always points my gaze heavenward. She is a light in my life—that true living is the life to come. I glory in all that she skipped: a fallen world, broken relationships, the decision to sin, illness and disease. And when I think of her, I also rejoice that whenever I share her story and her name, hope comes alongside.
My heart is open to her, open to the future. It is open to meeting her again. My heart has had a progression toward her. It started with feeling empty and barren with her loss—as if no heart were to be found within me, as if my heart had flown to be with her. When I regained the sense of having a heart, it ached and cried out. And then, it overflowed with love for her—that instead of an earthly life together uniting us, it is the love of Christ that unites us. For, we are both so overflowing with His love, Him being first in our hearts. And now, these years later, my heart feels wide open to her—to meeting her and coming to know her. Seeing my seven-year-old reminds me of how much I don’t know yet about my Noelle—about her interests, likes and dislikes, personality.
What I do know is that she and I share the same passion: the glory of the Lord Jesus Christ. I am forever blessed as a mother to have a daughter who lifts my eyes to eternity, to feel as though a part of me is already there. Heaven feels real in a different way. It feels solidified in a different way. It’s not as though Noelle gets me to heaven—of course not. My heavenly admission is solidified through the Way—Jesus whose blood sacrifice secures me a place in glory. But the feeling of having a piece of you in another distant land just beyond the horizon of this world makes the taste of glory stronger.
And there is great benefit in living life in view of what’s ahead—it actually means that not all of my tears need to be cried. That’s how I have come to take the Scripture’s admonishment that we are not to grieve as those who have no hope. Hope erases some of my tears even here—if I did not have hope of being forever with the Lord and of my daughter being there too, my tears would be different. But no, I have hope of a shared glory and passion. Thus, my tears are filled with rejoicing. And some that start to surface are simply reminded that life is brief, and they dissipate into that reality.
This life is brief—that is a point marked by having a stillborn child. In light of eternity, my days are not many more than hers. Am I living with this hope? Am I living wondering how I might bless the Lord of eternity in these days? Am I living with the light of His future presence with us being the light for my path and the lamp for me feet? I ponder these questions often. For, the Lord is my first love, and He is bringing me home through every day of this life, just as He brought my dear little one to her home with Him.
Lianna B. Davis is a graduate of Moody Bible Institute. She lives in Illinois with her husband and daughter. You can read more from Lianna at www.liannabdavis.com and on Facebook.
Thanks for sharing your story. It is beautiful ❤