Ryan

“He was a boy. The baby was a boy”
I had just picked up the phone and was a little startled to hear my mother begin a conversation in this way.
“What?” I screwed up my face, not sure what she was talking about.
“He was born this afternoon at two o’clock. He was just perfect. A beautiful little boy, but……I’m sorry to tell you this, he was born dead. Lisa’s in intensive care”.
I gasped deeply as I said three times “Oh no..I can’t believe it.”
I didn’t know what to say. My mother was clearly in shock and could hardly bring herself to speak.
“They think she’ll be okay though. The ambulance came just in time or Lisa would be dead too.”

I didn’t want to upset my mother so I didn’t ask too many questions but I found out that my sister Lisa’s womb had ruptured earlier that day and by the time they got her to hospital the baby had drowned in the leaked fluids. Lisa was within minutes of losing her own life. I prayed a quick, silent prayer that my mother would be so relieved at not losing her daughter that it would actually help her cope.

When I came off the phone I felt completely weak and helpless. I felt sick and wanted to cry. The evening service was about to start at church so I ran there for refuge and solace.

My heart went out to my unsaved sister, married to a Muslim but with no faith of her own. I knew she’d find it hard to cope. After the service I asked several Christians if they’d pray for my sister. I felt her pain all the more acutely because only three months earlier I had suffered a miscarriage myself. However, although it had been devastating at the time it was not a crisis the way this was, and I knew that to lose a baby only four weeks before it was due was like having a stillborn child and the disappointment would be overwhelming.
Although my younger sister and I had never been close, I just wanted to reach out in Christian love and do whatever I could to help.

“Lord, let my words be from you. Nothing more and nothing less than what she needs just now. You know her inside out. Help me be a good testimony of your love. Lord, inspire me to write a poem that will minister to her,” I prayed.