I’ve been in the ministry for 16 years now, and I’ve been a part of the funeral industry for over 8 of those years.  I wouldn’t say that I’m calloused by any stretch of the imagination, but when you deal with goodbyes, and tragedies, and funerals every day of your life, you are affected differently by death.  It’s not that I’m unaffected; it’s simply the fact that, when death is placed before me, I have a job to do.  I meet people everyday on the worst day of their life, and they are looking to me for guidance, and strength, and confidence.   With that in mind, when the unthinkable happens, when someone’s world is turned upside down, that’s when it becomes the mission of me and my directors to be a calming presence.  We exude a demeanor that isn’t caught off guard, a demeanor that is confident, and a demeanor of professionalism that is so badly needed in this time.

With all the different scenarios we face on a daily basis, the one that still rocks my world every time is when a baby dies.  People gather into our funeral home to honor a life that ended before it really got started.  It’s a situation that renders people speechless.  When grandpa dies, people tell you about how hard a worker he was.  When momma dies, they tell you how good her pasta salad was.  But when a baby dies…we don’t know what to say.

Stephanie Page Cole said, “I don’t think most people truly understand how much is lost when a baby dies. You don’t just lose a baby, you lose the 1 and 2 and 10 and 16 year old he would have become. You lose Christmas mornings and loose teeth and the first days of school. You just lose it all.”

The fact is, we come together knowing the who, the how, the what, and the where…but we may never know the why.  We shouldn’t have tiny caskets at the front of our chapels.  We shouldn’t have to decorate a funeral home with stuffed animals and toys.  We look into those tiny caskets and we see cute little onsies, fluffy little socks, and maybe a little ball cap or a big pretty bow.  But do you know what I see?

I see a picture of perfection; pure innocence.  Well nobody is perfect Andrew.  THEY are.  The babies I’ve served are.  They are perfect little boys and girls.  They had perfect little hands, perfect little smiles, and made the perfect little sounds when their mommas sang to them.

These babies, the ones that I’ve been privileged to help get ready to see their mommas and daddies one more time…these babies got to slip into eternity having never tasted of sin.  They never felt the shame of a poor decision.  They never suffered the heartache that you and I have felt so many times.  Many of us will enter eternity with the marks of sin, and the scars of turmoil.  These babies got to go to heaven…perfect.  Satan, the accuser of the brethren didn’t even have an accusation to throw at him.  And they are now in the hands of Jesus.

I’m not talking about a mother’s hands…soft with the fragrance of her favorite lotion.  I’m not referring to a father’s hands…rough and calloused from the day’s work.  I’m talking about the hands of God.  As a child in church, I remember singing a little song that said, He’s got the whole world in his hands.  And one of my favorite lines as a youngster, mainly because of the motions that went with them were this…He’s got the little bitty babies, in his hands.

These are the hands that hung the starts in space.  That placed the planets in their orbit. These are the hands that formed the mountains, and set boundaries for the sea.  They are the hands that hold tomorrow, and that took the nails for me.

To every grieving parent that has had to lay a child to rest, I’d like to leave you with this.

There is joy after sorrow

There is gain after loss

There is peace after suffering

And there is a crown after a cross

God bless you…