Clearly stated.

This is a poem our friend Brandon wrote last year after losing all the babies.  It has been one of the best pictures of the babies…and stated so clearly. Thanks again Brandon this still is so perfect, thank you!

“Awake, My Hope, come run to Me,

Move quickly—don’t delay.”

Eyes open wide in delight, I wonder

From where does this beckoning come?

But the music’s first beat pulses into

My chest, calling me onward, and up,

Light feet, strong legs, carry me forward,

Straight up to the top of a hill.

My lungs that fill so smoothly,

Deeply, gasp at the sight I behold,

That City!  Oh how it shines—It moves!

How it calls me like the wind!

I set off at once, arms wheeling faster

And faster, grasping for it’s light.

This Country—It has a King!  The music

Tells me; the Voice that woke me is He!

Every fiber; my blond hair to my tan

Feet, aches to be near by His side!

This strange feeling overwhelms me—

I must be blessed being born in this Country.

Crossing a river and into a valley,

Something catches my eye—

Five familiar figures call out my name,

Standing upright, waiting under an oak,

Our faces meet, we smile, embrace,

Music pulsing from my heart to theirs.

Jacob, Evan, Joy, David, Jonathan!  The Voice

Laughs, the valley shakes, rolls under our feet.

We have no choice but to run!

But wait—I stop, looking back,

A vague hint of shadows, and tears

Knock on the door of my mind.  “Mommy?

Daddy?”  Brothers and sisters paint knowing

Smiles—grab my hands ever so softly,

Jacob points to the City, and speaks,

“My dear, He takes care of them for now.”

The music, it rolls, quickly rushing away

Any doubts or fears I could have.  The King—

He laughs again, we echo, and run!

Over a mountain, light brighter, feet lighter;

A race to the City—us Tipping girls are quick!

Oh, but Mommy, Daddy—you’ve reason to

Smile.  Even through the tears, and the years,

For though you may not can hear it yet, I just

Heard the chorus—the song of this Country!

After the King’s laugh it rings and it bellows—

The trees, rivers and rocks even join!

And until we sing it together one day,

Your children will be here; dancing, laughing,

Singing along at the table of our King—

Calmed by His peace-giving laugh,

And His song that brings an end to all tears:

The grave, the grave, where is your power?

Death, did you think you had won?

You—the last enemy, have been destroyed,

Conquered and shamed by the Son!

The King’s children forever will shout and dance

On your grave as you shiver and slumber

Your fear, your slavery is broken—we are free!

Death, your days are numbered!

Death, your days are numbered!

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