Remembering

This morning I've been thinking back and reflecting. My mind is going back four years to the time we spent with our tiny, sick babies in the NICU. On one hand, it seems like so long ago that it takes on a dream-like quality. It's nearly impossible to reconcile the loud, boisterous, hurricane-like forces of nature they are today, with the helpless little beings they were back then. It almost seems like it happened to someone else. But even though I have a hard time seeing the boys as they were then, all I have to do to remember the place, and the feeling of being in those rooms, is close my eyes and be still.

The NICU at St. Mary's hospital is a place unlike any other. The lights are dim, and it's quiet, broken only by the occasional cry of a tiny baby. The rhythmic beeping of SAT monitors and the sometimes shrilling alarms are a constant reminder that things can change here in an instant, but over time they become background noise that's easily tuned out. I remember the sounds, and the quiet bustling of nurses who are kind beyond measure. But the thing I remember most is the presence of God.

I have never been in a church, or ceremony where I felt His presence, love and comfort more clearly and constantly. In our time there, we saw joy and miracles, and we saw sorrow beyond comprehension, but we also saw God in every single moment. Through every bit of fear and every bit of hope, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that God was with us, holding us tight as we struggled through the hardest days of our life.

And today I remember all of that clearly. Today is the fourth anniversary of the passing of Zach Kirk. He was our NICU next door neighbor, and his parents became our friends and guides through the sometimes treacherous waters of hospital life. Despite spending months in the NICU with their sweet boy, they never lost their faith. Not only did they stay strong day after day, they shared their hope and strength and encouragement with others. To this day, they are one of the most amazing examples of faith and grace that I have ever seen.

I am thinking of them today, and reflecting on a the time that we shared. I am sad that we didn't get the chance to see Zach become a wild, rambunctious little boy. Based on the tales his mama tells about his adorable little brother, Samuel, I have no doubts Zach would have been a pistol. But I will always be grateful for the example that his family set. The way that his parents showed that you just keep going, day after day, no matter how hard it gets. That you keep your faith and your hope, and you just keep loving each other through the darkest days. Faith, hope and love- and the greatest of these is love.