Once Upon a Time

Once upon a time, way back in the 1900s – the 1970s and 80s to be exact – a young girl who loved babies dreamed of growing up and having babies of her own.  Her dreams included boy babies and girl babies. Often those childish dreams were detailed enough to specify a certain order for their births and usually involved a set of twins somewhere along the line.  Names were given in anticipation of the fulfillment of these dreams. (Nevermind the fact that there would be a father in the picture who might have the misguided idea that he should have a say in these plans or name choices.)  The number and order and names of the dreamed-of babies were adjusted in various ways over time, but always in that little girl’s dreams was the heartfelt desire to be the mom to a little girl of her own.   

Once upon another time – December 12, 2006, to be exact – a dream came true!

Well before the sun came up on an icy winter morning we were on our way to the hospital for a scheduled C-section that would deliver our baby girl into the “outside world.”  By the time I got married, my dreams had become more realistic, and I was far more ready to rely on God’s decisions for how our family would be blessed. (And I had been firmly educated, blessedly so, about the importance of allowing the father a say in making decisions such as choosing names.) Most definitely, I was thrilled to have had two sons; I loved mothering those little boys and at times wondered if it would be best if we could keep on with what we were comfortable with – another boy would be wonderful!  But I couldn’t deny the eager anticipation after discovering that this baby would bring bundles of pink and a different kind of sweetness into our little world.  

At 8:15 that morning, Anna Lynne, a dream-come-true princess, made her entrance. Her determination and “spunk” were evident early on. At times this presented parenting challenges, such as when she determined well before the age of two that she no longer needed to stay in her crib or consent to the bedtime her parents had determined for her.  My boys had not been crib-escapers, so I was somewhat surprised when my sweet and petite little bundle of pink would repeatedly and far too proudly appear in our presence after having been put to bed for the night.  

She was smart and an early talker, and her words quickly developed into songs that she carried with her and shared with others.  Her big brothers adored her and she was fascinated with them.  There was little they would do that she wouldn’t attempt, and she didn’t have much trouble keeping up with them.  Their song and dance parties in the living room were filled with love and laughter.

She was Daddy’s little princess; she was Mommy’s little helper.  Dora the Explorer entertained her, and Cinderella and the other Disney princesses enchanted her.  She’d never pass up an opportunity to be pushed in a swing.   She was a girly girl who loved pretty clothes, sparkly jewels, and her baby dolls. But there was no denying a tough feistiness about her!

Spunky! Sassy! Sparkling! Full of life! She was all of that.  So it came as such a shock to discover that, at the age of 27 months, she had tumors growing all throughout her abdomen.  She hadn’t seemed sick that long, certainly nothing that we ever would have imagined was more than just a typical childhood bug.  How could this spunky little girl have stage 4 cancer?  How could that monster be growing inside of her and we not even know?

A parent doesn’t expect to have to teach their toddler about the types of things Anna had to learn: hospital stays, clinic visits, frequent pokes and vitals checks, x-rays, surgeries, IV’s, CT’s, PETS, MRI’s, “sleepy medicine,” and so much more that she became all too familiar with.  But throughout almost two years of horrendous treatments, there were so few moments where we couldn’t see her spunkiness and her smiles or hear her giggles and songs.  There were several periods of time that she was pretty miserable and didn’t sparkle in the ways we were used to seeing her, but she rebounded quickly and went right back to singing and dancing.  She clearly let it be known when she was unhappy about some of the things she had to suffer through, but, like so many children who battle cancer and other diseases, she resiliently endured everything in a way that could only be described as inspiring. 

Once upon a time – 10 years ago to be exact – on December 12, 2010 at a few minutes past midnight, Anna’s short life on earth ended and she was carried into the arms of Jesus.  Treatments that gave us hope of a cure had failed; after a relapse there was nothing that could be done to stop the cancerous monster. She let her little light shine up until the end, singing and even participating in a dance performance only five days earlier.  

This wasn’t part of that original childhood dream.  My expectations of motherhood had certainly become more realistic over time, and fears had always lingered way in the back corners of my mind that something tragic could happen, but I had never really entertained the idea that burying one of my children after only four years was even a possibility. 

That’s the catch with dreams, though, isn’t it?  You can dream and plan and even work really hard to make those dreams come true, but sometimes you don’t get the “life of your dreams.”  Our dreams are based on our sin-tainted desires and are limited by incomplete human knowledge. Amazingly, our wildest dreams can’t compare with the life God has planned for us.

“I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being,  so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love,  may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ,  and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.  Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us,  to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever! Amen. Ephesians 3:16-21

So let’s back up.  

Once upon a time – the last ¾ of the year of 2006, to be more or less exact – a woman was thanking God for the new life growing inside of her.  She fervently prayed for that unborn baby, as she had done during previous pregnancies, for health and happiness, of course, but most especially that God would claim that child as his own.  She prayed that faith would be created and grow and be preserved in that child until God would safely call her home to heaven.

My most passionate plea for my children has always been that, all through their lives, God would preserve them in the faith that he gifted to them through their baptisms.  I have no greater desire than to see my loved ones, my children in heaven! 

I have the unspeakable comfort that God answered my fervent prayers for Anna.  You couldn’t know Anna and doubt that she loved Jesus.  She sang her songs, such as “Jesus Loves Me,” for family and friends, doctors and nurses,  hospital cleaning staff and people she passed in the grocery store.  She knew that Jesus died for her, and so after she breathed her last breath on earth, she arose to a glorious morning in heaven – a birthday like none other!  I praise God and sincerely thank him for taking her to her eternal home.  

But oh how much I miss her!  

The “what-ifs” linger and no doubt they always will.  She would be turning 14. 14! What would she be like?  Would she still have her daddy wrapped around her little finger?  Would she still idolize her brothers, trying to keep up with them and do whatever they do?  Would she enjoy shopping and girls’ days with me?  Would she be “on my side” once in a while so that I wouldn’t always be outnumbered 3 to 1, or would she team up with her dad and brothers to playfully mock my ideas and plans? Would her sass and determined, teenage independence be causing me more gray hairs?  I daily think about and mourn the special mother-daughter moments I had dreamed of for so long.

But this truth remains:  What IS is better than what God never had planned for her or for us in the first place.  There is no doubt that Anna is enjoying the most joy-filled existence, and her birthdays are more incredible than even the best of fairy tale celebrations.  She hasn’t missed out on a thing – she experienced every single blessing God had planned for her life on earth, and she is now experiencing the far greater joys of heaven.

We haven’t missed out on a thing that God has planned for us either.  Oh yes, do we ever miss Anna!  We always will.  But we live with the joyful knowledge that each day God is granting us every perfect blessing he had planned for us long before any imperfect dreams began forming in our young minds.

Once upon a time – 2000ish years ago to be not so exact – a young mother gave birth to the only baby who could ever make every dream of a perfect life in paradise come true.  Jesus came and defeated death so that we can face the earthly deaths of our loved ones knowing that the separation is temporary and an eternity of togetherness with those loved ones, and most importantly with our God, awaits.

Once upon a time – before time existed, to be as exact as possible – God determined that a most precious soul would have four years to bring many blessings to all who knew her.  

Once upon a time still to come – a time known only to God – my hopes and dreams of being reunited with my daughter will undoubtedly come true!

I am forever thankful that God gave me the incredible privilege of being Anna’s mom.

Happy BirthdayS, my Anna!