Author: Katie Schuermann

I believe the Holy Scriptures to be the inerrant Word of God, inspired by the Holy Spirit and fulfilled in Christ Jesus, our risen Lord and Savior. Therefore, I have faith that children are exactly what God tells us they are in His Word: a heritage to receive from Him. Children are not a prize for me to earn, a commodity for me to demand, nor an idol for me to worship. They are a gift which my Heavenly Father only has the privilege to bestow and to withhold. If God makes me a mother, then I can receive His good gift of a child with all joy and confidence in His love for me. If God does not make me a mother, then I can still know with all joy and confidence that God loves me completely in His perfect gift of the Child Jesus whose sacrifice on the cross atoned for my sin and reconciled me to my Heavenly Father. I am God’s own child, purchased and won by the blood of Jesus, and God promises in His Word that He will work all things - even my barrenness - for my eternal good. For this reason, I can in faith confess that my barrenness is a blessing.

All of the children

I wasn’t even there when it happened.

Board elections of The Lutheran Church–Missouri Synod (LCMS) had finally wrapped up for the day, so I was walking back from the convention floor to the press room, tallies in hand, intent on finishing my story for the Reporter within the hour.

It was then that my husband texted me:

They’re trying to move [Resolution] 3-04 to the floor.

I stopped in the empty convention center hallway and stared at my phone. What? Floor Committee 3 wasn’t even on the agenda for that day. And honestly, after two straight hours of recording election results, my brain couldn’t even recall what Resolution 3-04 was.

IVF. Voting now on the motion. No discussion. Gonna pass.

It suddenly hit me what was happening.

This was the resolution, the one that had been five years in the making; the one Rebecca Mayes and I had talked about with pastors at roundtable after roundtable; the one the sainted +Maggie Karner+ and I had discussed as being so necessary that LCMS Life Ministry ended up hosting two Infertility Ethics Symposiums at our Synod’s seminaries; the one Stephanie Neugebauer and the Sanctity of Human Life Committee had made a priority for the good of the church.

This was the resolution that asked our Synod president to assign a task force to study issues relating to procreation, fertility, and care for the unborn. This was the resolution that asked our church to study these matters and, God willing, to speak on them.

My husband had warned me earlier that, with the amount of business in need of being covered at this year’s convention, it most likely wouldn’t make it to the convention floor, but some blessed soul – Chris from Texas, I later learned – took it upon himself to make a motion from the floor outside of the orders of the day.

I quickened my pace to get to the press room. The convention was being live-streamed there. If I hurried, I just might make it in time.

“What’s happening?” I asked, turning around the corner and dropping my bag at my table.

Several reporters looked up at me with blank faces, fully engrossed in the stories they were currently writing on other convention business. No one had been watching the live stream.

IVF task force 95.75% adopted. Thanks be to God!

It was such a quiet, unassuming moment in time. I stared at my phone in disbelief, and then I looked up at the large television screen standing against the far wall. The convention chair was calmly moving the assembly on to the next order of business as if mountains had not just been moved. No cheers were thrown into the air by delegates, no applause rippled across the convention floor. The moment passed just as quickly and discreetly as it had come, and my senses simply weren’t fast enough in the chase.

I looked around at the other reporters, all diligently working, and I did what any other barren woman would do. I stepped out into the hall and cried as quietly as I could. I cried for all of the children frozen in liquid nitrogen; I cried for all of the children abandoned in fertility clinics; I cried for all of the children aborted; I cried for all of the children waiting to be loved, respected, and parented.

And I cried in thanksgiving that my church body is going to pay attention to them.

The LORD of all life be praised!

IMG_9365

A True Servant’s Heart

heartThank you to Jane Jensen, the second of our two submissions tied for third place, for reminding us that it is never a bad thing to have the ingredients for a chocolate cake pre-measured and ready to go.

The most important thing I learned from my mother is to be prepared. Our home was always tidy but there was cleaning to do before the weekends in case someone dropped in for a visit. Monday was wash day; Saturday nights our clothes were laid out for Sunday services. Shoes were polished, my offering for Sunday School was tied in a hankie and safely inserted in the pocket of my dress or coat. The Bible memory verse was recited to her and I’d better not embarrass her by flubbing up or forgetting.

Our clocks were all five to seven minutes fast so she could sit down and have a cup of coffee before going out the door. And heaven forbid if someone dawdled. She would not be late. My mother never drove so Dad drove us everywhere. “If that bell is ringing, don’t think I’ll walk into that church!” This was said in a no nonsense tone and we knew. If you had an appointment at 9:00 and you got there at 9:00 you were late because you had not gotten yourself prepared for what was to come such as questions for the doctor, or by walking in last you drew attention to yourself, another big no-no.

But Mom had a true servant’s heart. She gathered our favorite things to eat throughout the year for our big family Thanksgiving meal. Her grandsons loved black olives, there would be two cans. My brothers were hearty eaters so a big ham was purchased ahead of time, and the freezer held chickens ready to be fried and sometimes a turkey. At Thanksgiving she started making all her various cookies which were sealed in coffee cans and kept in the cold back porch until Christmas, unless her eight grandsons found them first!

I can still see on the counter a large glass jar that held the correct measurements of flour, sugar, cocoa and baking soda. These were for a cake so that all she had to do was add the eggs and other wet ingredients. When the phone rang that company was coming, quick as a whistle she had a cake in the oven and the coffee pot was always hot.

Mom always thought of others and was often the first or second to bring a meal or cake to someone who had experienced a death. She would think ahead to what we wanted for Christmas gifts or birthdays and made us feel special. When I turned 18 she had the place, food and decorations all in mind before I asked. All I had to do was write the invitations.

She lived well into her 80s, nineteen of those years without Dad. She knew where he was and where she was going, trusting in our Lord and Savior, Jesus. She was well prepared.

Jane Jensen

Perseverance in Faithfulness

Thank you to Cindy Roley, one of two who tied for third place in our anniversary writing contest, for helping us to see that the faithfulness of her mother is the good fruit born of God’s faithfulness to her in Jesus.MP900314217

Loraine Lois Engel. Isn’t that a lovely name? And what a beautiful girl she was with a lithe build and green-hazel eyes that emanated light and life! Small wonder that my dad was smitten with her and sought her as his wife and life partner.  

I was the first-born of three children into this family, the eldest and the only daughter.  How blessed am I to have enjoyed this position throughout my life! I remember my mom singing to me, reading to me, coloring with me. Indeed, often in parenting my own children, my prayer has been that I might be more of the sweet and encouraging mother she was – and remains to this day. Now, those memories continue to encourage me, as I, more and more, have the blessing of helping her.

From her, I learned, not only of my value to her, but also of my value to my Lord and Savior. Whenever trials of illness or accidental injury occurred, my mama’s response was always to comfort me and encourage me with words from my heavenly Father; she read Scripture to me. I learned respect for myself and respect for others from this woman, my mother, who obviously had a special relationship with her father. I know that, not only from witnessing her grief, when he died of cancer at the age of 60, but also, from the relationship she has with her heavenly Father, to whom she has faithfully born witness to her own children and succeeding generations.  

Mom has suffered many trials and much heartache, throughout the years – all born with an unwavering faith in the omniscience and omnipotence of her Triune God. Her faith in the faithfulness of her Savior never wavers. The many trials she has endured include the betrayal of friends, one of her children suffering polio, the death of loved ones, her own mother’s struggle with Alzheimer’s, knee replacements, the straying of loved ones from the faith, the stripping away of reason and sensibility in the governing of her beloved country, and the continuing struggle and heartbreak of remaining wife to a man, who no longer is able to faithfully and convincingly respond to her tireless ministrations for his health and comfort. How she grieves not only the day-to-day comfort and security of the love and support afforded her by the physical presence of her husband in their home, but especially the inability to take care of his many needs herself! What a powerful gift she lives out for all around her to see, as she travels almost daily to his place of residence to faithfully serve him, thus demonstrating his continuing value by not only caring for him, but also advocating for him. She bears witness to having respect for the life that our Lord continues to allow and faithfully fulfills her commitment to the vows she made to my dad before the Lord, over sixty-six years ago.  

My mom is a servant, a nurturing wife and mother, living out her faith, which is made possible by the Holy Spirit of Jesus that lives in her. She is a blessing to all who witness her faithfulness. I think of her when I ponder Romans 5:1-5, where we read, “Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God. More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.” (ESV)

Perseverance in faithfulness to my family, my neighbor, and, most importantly, to the Triune God, in response to His abundant mercy in my life, is the most important of what I have learned from my mother. What a great gift she is to me!

Cindy Roley

 

Some Things Just Need to Be Said

Thank you to Heidi Poyer, our first runner-up in the anniversary writing contest, for reminding us that some things just need to be said.

The most important thing I learned from my mother? Easy question. It’s what I’ve heard her share many times, with strangers and kinfolk alike:

For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life. John 3:16 ESV

Looking back, no single crystalizing moment comes to mind, no great and memorable episode to share. Yet I know that Christ crucified for my sins is the most important thing one can know, and I know I must have learned it from my mother, because where else would it have come from?

Of course, saving faith is a gift that comes from God alone. But in my case, my mother was one of the primary delivery people. She was the one who (along with my father) had me baptized, took me to church, enrolled me in Lutheran school, and made sure we did devotions after dinner. Our home was outfitted with religious art and reading materials, and young me turned to her when questions about God came up.

By her words and actions, I grew up knowing that not only is it true that Jesus died for me, but it is also important. Along those lines, I suppose I do have a memory to share after all.

One time, my mother was chatting over the picket fence with our next door neighbor. He off-handedly remarked that he didn’t believe in God. My mother was scandalized that anyone would say such a thing. Without hesitation, she bluntly and emphatically replied that he was going to hell, unless he believed that Jesus died on the cross to take away his sins.

It is not the only time my mother explicitly shared her faith, but it is representative of her style. I was quite young at the time and I probably am not even remembering it right, and also there is a lingering feeling of awkwardness associated with the memory.

I like to think there’s a lesson in that awkward feeling.

I’m often tempted to shy away from sharing my faith with others because I kind of wish that when I bear witness, I could do it just right, compassionately and with eloquence. However, I would do well instead to follow my mother’s example. She is familiar with God’s Word and shares it as it comes to her, with a strong conviction that it does not return empty, but accomplishes the purpose for which it was sent (Isaiah 55:11).

My mother’s willingness to make a faithful confession to anybody at any time is one of the qualities I admire about her the most. She is a nurse, and not a theologian, but when religion does come up, she can be counted on to make sure that salvation through faith in Christ alone gets shared.

It might not be artfully expressed, and there’s always the chance that the person she is talking to may get uncomfortable, or dismiss her Jesus talk as silly. My mother won’t let any of those things stop her, because some things just need to be said. Christ crucified belongs in the center of your life and the tip of your tongue, and she will make no bones about reminding you of that.

My childhood was not all sunshine and roses. Neither is my adulthood, for that matter. But I have always had the most important thing, the only thing that matters: the assurance that Jesus is my redeemer.

My mother taught me the faith. In doing so, she gave me everything.

Heidi Poyer

20070218-1715

“Childhood”

bleeding-heart-flower copy

Happy Five-Year Anniversary, dear readers! What a joy and help you all have been to us over the years in sharing the many blessings and burdens which accompany this life together in Christ.

We very much enjoyed reading everyone’s recent submissions on the prompt, “The most important thing I learned from my mother is…” Thank you to everyone who participated. As promised, we will be publishing our top picks this week. We ended up having a tie for the third-place slot, so we will be sharing four posts total instead of the originally promised three.

Today, however, is reserved for honoring our contest winner.

Congratulations to Alison Andreasen, daughter and poet, on winning a copy of He Remembers the Barren and for beautifully depicting through rhyme the precious gift your mother has given to you – a childhood marked by the loving and faithful proclamation of God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, the “Sustainer of our life and hers.”

“Childhood”
By Alison Andreasen

Childhood- the stage, the age-
Noted time of joy and play.
Messy hair, skinned up knees;
Signs of life and being free.

She had bruises, scabs and scars,
Not all from climbing trees-
Abuse, desertion, wounds, and tears
Marked this tender bloom.

Time gone by, stage antiquate,
Bloom now grown, somewhat assuaged.
Memories linger, scars remain.
Babes of her own now in her care.

Lesser pain, lesser fear,
Fewer bruises, fewer tears.
Who to credit with this difference?
The mystery unrevealed to us.

Until….

Despair, depression ran its course,
Dependent she became on Him-
The Father never known before,
Sustainer of our life and hers.

He protected, nurtured, loved
The wounded woman-child.
On His promises she clung
And rested in unfailing love.

Always there, all-knowing, kind,
Forgiving, patient. Sacrificing
Son to save His precious child;
Showing love to generations.

Never had she felt so free:
Joy complete; life replete.
Control -the thing outside her grasp,
And for it now she felt no need.

One word she taught me- “childhood.”
Relationship- her disposition.
No need to cling to false control-
Live trusting, clinging to His Word.

Child-hood; the state of being,
Trusting, resting, then receiving
Gifts of life and sustenance,
Flowing from His providence.

Given care as His creation,
Redeemed by Brother to us all,
Made Holy everyday by Spirit,
By Grace, no work of our own doing.

In thankfulness we live and breathe.
Mercy showered gently,
Undeserving grace bestowed,
How free it makes us- free indeed!

May we all live fully knowing
Who is owed all thanks and praise.
May we all be open, waiting,
When the final call is raised.

Then home He’ll bring us, His dear children;
Home from every tribe and nation.
We’ll rest and feast and sing rejoicing
For our Father’s gift- salvation!  

Anniversary Writing Contest…

IMG_1099-2010-12-10A bit of history: Melissa DeGroot penned and published this blog’s first post on May 8, 2011. That was Mother’s Day, and this year, interestingly enough, Mother’s Day falls on May 8th, once again.

That means Mother’s Day is going to be our five-year anniversary.

Five years. Can you believe it?

So much has happened in all of our lives since then…adoptions, moves, books, births, illnesses, recoveries, and more barrenness. Some of the changes we have welcomed, and some of them we have only endured. Yet, we are the Baptized, so, in faith, we trust that God is working all of these changes (and unchanges) for our good.

Since this blog has always been about sharing in each other’s burdens and joys through the means of writing, we’ve decided to celebrate our five-year anniversary by hosting a writing contest.

The rules? They are simple:

  1. You must be an adult male or a female to submit an entry.
  2. Your entry must not exceed 600 words.
  3. Your entry must be submitted via email to katie@katieschuermann.com by noon on May 1, 2016, to be considered.
  4. Your entry must be in response to this prompt: “The most important thing I learned from my mother is…”

There are no rules for formatting or style. The entries will be judged on quality and content.

The winning entry will be published on this blog on Mother’s Day, May 8, 2016. Two runners-up will also be published on this blog the following week.

The author of the winning entry will also receive a signed copy of He Remembers the Barren.

Thank you for faithfully reading our posts over the years and for bearing with us in love. What comfort we have found in your fellowship!

Happy writing,

Your humble HRTB blog hosts/judges

A Little Joy

On days when the cross of barrenness feels too heavy to carry, God reminds me that there are those in the body of Christ who would carry it for me. And I am comforted.

Thank you, Joy, for writing this beautiful poem, and, in so doing, shouldering my cross.

Haiku: a poem
about things found in nature.
This is apropos.

What more natural
than fruit of the womb, direct
blessing fresh from God?

What more poetic
than love and pathos for those
who yearn for the gift?

Glad to bear this child–
soli Deo gloria!–
but wishing you could.

-Joy Golden

Naomi, Ruth and Obed 1876-7 by Thomas Matthews Rooke 1842-1942

My Mom’s Hat

Twenty-one years ago, my mom asked me if I would like to get on a charter bus, ride overnight to Washington, D.C., walk alongside of her in the March for Life, and get back on the bus to ride overnight back home.

I was a junior in high school at the time, and the thought of traveling to our nation’s capital to march in peaceful protest against the atrocity of legalized abortion and in support of women and children thrilled me. It held the golden appeal of a pilgrimage of sorts.

I was soon to learn that not all aspects of participating in the March for Life were golden – the grimy reality of wearing the same change of clothes for three days in a row, the face-numbing cold and bone-chilling wind, the presence of angry pro-choicers yelling obscenities from the sidelines, the heart-breaking news (during the following year’s march) that President Clinton was planning on vetoing the Partial-Birth Abortion Ban Act – but there was something remarkable about marching side-by-side with thousands of strangers in a holy endeavor. I left that march with a clear picture of just how important and necessary it is to speak up for the rights of those who have no voice of their own.

Fast forward to this year.

I called my mom to tell her the forecast for this year’s march. I was in need of a longer coat, and I asked her if she had one that I could borrow. She did more than that. She let me borrow her hat and scarf, too.

As I pulled some knitted accessories out of the bag she handed me, I sucked in my breath. There was the very hat she had worn twenty-one years before in the March for Life. I don’t know if she intended for the gesture to be sentimental or not, but the significance of the hat was not lost on me.

On January 22nd, 2016, the 43rd anniversary of Roe v. Wade, I stood before the Washington monument and put on my mother’s hat. I started to cry, because I couldn’t help but marvel at how our Lord preserves His church. My generation is not the only profile generation. There have been many, many that have come before us.

My mom is one of them.

Thank you, Mom, for teaching me to use my feet to march for the good of my littlest neighbors. It is a privilege, not only to follow in your footsteps, but also to wear your hat.

IMG_7570 copy

So Much Death

My heart can barely hold the grief.

It leaks out of my eyes as I bow my head in church. I’ve learned to pray with my eyes open, so that the tears drop straight to the floor and not onto my cheeks and clothes in tell-tale streaks.

It shudders from my lungs in seismic waves as Pastor reads the Gospel lesson. I’ve learned to hold my breath until my chest burns, camel-clutching my wayward diaphragm into submission.

It squeezes out of my larynx in pathetic whimpers as I sing, “The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight.” I’ve learned not to program “O Little Town of Bethlehem” for the Sunday school children lest they witness more sorrow in Advent than their parents want to explain on the drive home.

But my eyes, my lungs, my larynx – all rebels, every one. They get the better of me every Advent, because I know of more children dead than born.

So much death! How can I bear it?

And, as happens every year, I look to the image of my Lord as a tiny baby in the manger, and I remember, “So much life!”

I cannot bear it, so Jesus bears it for me. He is born to conquer death for my sake and for yours. He gives us life everlasting, and He gives it abundantly.

“O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?”

IMG_1443

 

What about Miscarriages?

 

Rev. Peter Eckardt – husband to Allison, father to +Jordan+, and Associate Pastor of Immanuel Lutheran Church and School in Alexandria, Virginia – recently wrote a letter of comfort and support to his congregation about the tender subject of miscarriage. We are most thankful to him for allowing us to share this letter with all of you.

*  *  *  *  *

What about Miscarriages?

What do you do when you experience a miscarriage? This is a question that no expectant couple wants to address and yet desperately needs the answers to as soon as tragedy strikes.

IMG_1454Allison and I were expecting our first child. We were excited, nervous, terrified, and overjoyed all at the same time. We were reading books and pamphlets, downloading pregnancy-tracking apps, and talking to numerous mothers and fathers—all to prepare us for the rest of the pregnancy, for birth, and for everything that was to follow. We were learning more and more about our baby’s development. At 8 weeks gestation, we had already heard and seen the baby’s heartbeat via ultrasound—how special that was! But at 10 weeks and 6 days, we were completely unprepared for the miscarriage that happened in the middle of the night.

QUESTIONS

‪In the hours and days following the miscarriage that Allison and I experienced a month ago, several questions flooded our minds, and we had little idea of what the “right thing to do” was. We were able to preserve the remains of our baby, but now what? Can we, should we, bury our child? How would we go about doing that? Can we have a funeral service at the church for our unbaptized infant? Is that sort of thing done? What comfort do we have, if any, that our baby is in heaven? Should we name him or her?

Those of you who have experienced a miscarriage may have your own set of questions you’d like to add to this list. I will not attempt to answer all miscarriage-related questions in this letter—and, indeed, not all of them have a clear, right or wrong answer—but I’d like to at least begin the conversation with a few points.

HOPE
GOD’S POWER IS BOUNDLESS

‪If you have had a miscarriage, I want you to know that there are many promises of peace and hope for you and for your departed little one. You need not fear that, because your child was not able to be baptized, he or she is therefore unable to be included in God’s kingdom. Though God indeed attaches his promises of grace and forgiveness to His holy sacraments, He does not limit His power to these sacraments. Unbaptized, the thief on the cross comes to faith in his final hour and is told by our Lord the he will be with Him in Paradise (Luke 23:43). God is the maker of heaven and earth; He can do all things.

GOD HEARS OUR PRAYERS

Moreover, we know that “the effective, fervent prayer of a righteous man [i.e., a Christian!] avails much (James 5:16). Our Lord tells us to ask and it will be given to us (Matt. 7:7) and that whatever we ask in His name, He will give us (John 14:13). Likewise, God says in Psalm 50, “Call upon me in the day of trouble; I will deliver you” (Psalm 50:15). And even if we have not prayed as we ought, the Spirit offers prayers for us in our weakness (Rom. 8:26-27). The Lutheran Service Book Agenda, which has a rite of “Burial for a Stillborn Child or Unbaptized Child,” states: “While alive and in the womb, this child was brought and commended to Christ in our prayers. We should not doubt that these prayers have been heard, for we have God’s own kind and comforting promises that such prayers in the name of Jesus Christ are heard by Him” (132).

IMG_7208 copyMartin Luther wrote a letter of comfort for women who have had a miscarriage, and in it he also emphasizes the power of Christian prayer: “One should not despise a Christian person as if he were a Turk, a pagan, or a godless person. He is precious in God’s sight and his prayer is powerful and great, for he has been sanctified by Christ’s blood and anointed with the Spirit of God. Whatever he sincerely prays for, especially in the unexpressed yearning of his heart, becomes a great, unbearable cry in God’s ears, God must listen, as he did to Moses, Exodus 14 [:15], ‘Why do you cry to me?’ even though Moses couldn’t whisper, so great was his anxiety and trembling in the terrible troubles that beset him.” (Read entire letter here.)

THE HOLY SPIRIT CAN WORK THROUGH THE WOMB

‪As Scripture teaches, we believe that infants can receive the Holy Spirit and the gift of faith without yet being able to rationally hear and understand the words of Scripture. The infant John the Baptist leapt for joy in Elizabeth’s womb when he heard the sound of Mary’s greeting (Luke 1:39-45). This was surely the work of the Holy Spirit, for He is able to create faith even through the womb. It is indeed true that “with God all things are possible” (Matt 19:26).

JESUS LOVES LITTLE ONES

‪Consider also how our Lord Jesus shows compassion toward the littlest of children, praising their faith. In one instance, Jesus sets a little child in the midst of his disciples and says, “Unless you turn and become like children you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. . . . See that you do not despise one of these little ones. For I tell you that in heaven their angels always see the face of my Father who is in heaven. . . . It is not the will of my Father who is in heaven that one of these little ones should perish” (Matt. 18:3, 10, 11). In another instance, “they were bringing even infants to [Jesus] that he might touch them. And when the disciples saw it, they rebuked them. But Jesus called them to him, saying, ‘Let the children come to me, and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of God'” (Luke 18:15-17). There is no question that Jesus has a special, tender regard for the little ones.

GOD KNOWS US FROM CONCEPTION

‪Psalm 139 speaks beautifully of God’s intimate knowledge and care of his children, even from their conception in the womb:

“For you formed my inward parts;
you knitted me together in my mother’s womb.
I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. . . .
Your eyes saw my unformed substance;
(Ps. 139:13-16)

WE SHALL GO TO THEM

‪Finally, a passage I find particularly poignant and comforting is the account of the death of King David’s first child in 2 Samuel 12:15-23. David’s son is afflicted by God upon birth and dies after seven days (significant because his circumcision—the Old Testament equivalent to the sacrament of Baptism—would have been on the eighth day). During that time, David beseeches the Lord to be merciful and to spare his son from death. But when the child dies, he stops mourning, worships the Lord, and says, “I shall go to him, but he will not return to me.” With these words David appears to be expressing hope in the resurrection and in a blessed reunion with his son in heaven.

With all of this in mind, answers to some of the previously-mentioned questions start to become clearer. Yes, you may have comfort that your unbaptized child who died an untimely death has been brought to the arms of Jesus in paradise and awaits the resurrection. Yes, you may ask your pastor for a funeral service in the church. And yes, you may give your miscarried children a Christian burial.

BURIAL

There is no single right way to bury your miscarried baby, nor is it even possible in many cases, depending on the situation. Sometimes, the remains are not able to be preserved, parents do not know that they can preserve them, or they unknowingly dispose of them. If the miscarriage happens at a hospital, for instance, the couple may have to insist that they be given the remains for the purpose of burial. Otherwise, the remains may simply be disposed of by the hospital as a matter of protocol. For Christian parents who did not or were not able to keep the remains of their child for burial, there is no need to be burdened with guilt or regret. Take heart, and know that our good and gracious Lord holds your child in His arms regardless of the state of your baby’s bodily remains and that He can and will resurrect your child on the Last Day even without a burial site. Our God is abounding in steadfast love, forgiveness, and mercy to both you and your little ones.

‪For those who are able, however, it is a good and commendable thing to keep the remains of a miscarried baby and to seek an appropriate avenue for Christian burial. Ask your pastor for guidance, as each situation may be unique. Though the world around us pays little attention to miscarriages and often expects mothers and fathers to simply move on or to get over the miscarriage quickly, we Christians have an opportunity to boldly confess that a baby who dies by miscarriage—and who may only be a few centimeters long and a few weeks old—is just as much a human life created by God as you or I. Whenever a miscarriage happens, we ought to acknowledge both the very real life of the child that has ended, and the very real loss that the parents are undergoing. And as Christians, we must not forget to confess our hope in Jesus Christ, our God and Savior, whose good and gracious will is always better than ours. “And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose” (Rom. 8:28).

‪Allison and I decided to have our baby Jordan buried in Richmond, VA, at Mt. Calvary Cemetery. This particular cemetery donates land specifically for the burial of miscarried babies. Burial services are also provided through the goodwill and cooperation of the The Catholic Diocese of Richmond, Bliley Funeral home, and Richmond area hospitals. They conduct burials of miscarried infants about once month, reverently interring several miscarried children together in a single plot of land. Tiny white caskets are used with the names of the babies placed on each. Allison and I were in Richmond this past Wednesday for our baby Jordan’s burial. We are extremely grateful for this gracious program and have talked about how nice it would be if more such programs were available for Christian families.

‪There is much more to say on this entire topic, and I plan to do so another time in order to comfort and assist those who have been and will be affected by miscarriage. It is, unfortunately, a common tragedy among us, but its frequency does not make it any less sorrowful.

‪”The last enemy to be destroyed is death” (1 Cor. 15:26).

‪In closing I’d like to offer this prayer from the LSB Agenda for all who have lost children, grandchildren, nieces and nephews, through miscarriage:

Heavenly Father, Your Son bore all our griefs and carried all our sorrows. Strengthen the faith of these grieving parents and all who bear this heavy burden. Help them to rely on Your boundless mercy and to trust that their little one, who has been gathered into Your loving arms, will rise on the Last Day; through Jesus Christ, Your Son, our Lord, who lives and reigns with You and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen.

‪Blessings in Christ,
Pastor Eckardt