My brother shared with me the story of Felicia Cash, a woman who lost her baby at 14 weeks 6 days, two days after I lost my Noah. I cried when I read it, and knew I had to reach out to her.

Her story came to me a week-and-a-half after Noah’s death. That same day I had an episode of despair that grief can bring about, but this episode was different because it gave me a small glimpse of what it would be like to fall into that pit and not have the hope of salvation in the Lord. I may or may not write about it in the future, as it lost it relevance a few minutes after it happened.

Because it was soon covered over with beauty…

I reached out to Felicia via Facebook and told her about my Noah. I told her I was in the storm with her, and that I was so thankful she had the courage to share pictures of her beautiful Japeth, as I was not ready to share pictures of my Noah. She sent me a message on Facebook, and the first thing she said was “I am sorry for your loss” and shared this song with me:

…Noah, hello, goodbye
I will see you on the other side
Noah, sweet child of mine
I will see you on the other side…

I couldn’t believe it! A song with my baby’s name on it, as if I had written it to him. It came in the time of my most intense pain, a burning pain. I expressed to Felicia how much it meant to me. She gave of herself in the midst of her pain. I don’t think she will ever fully know the significance of that song at that moment. Only in heaven…

What took me out of the pit of despair was not the song. Although absolutely beautiful, the song was just the icing on the cake. What took me out of that pit that day–and what takes me out every day–is knowing that there is a promise for me, a hope beyond this pain. A promise written thousands of years ago and fulfilled in Jesus. A promise that there will be joy instead of mourning.

…and provide for those who grieve in Zion—
to bestow on them a crown of beauty
instead of ashes,
the oil of joy
instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise
instead of a spirit of despair.
They will be called oaks of righteousness,
a planting of the Lord
for the display of his splendor
Isaiah 61:3

Felicia reminded me that there is a Hope that we have that pain and death cannot touch because it has been overcome in Christ. And even in our darkest pain we can be “oaks of righteousness … for the display of his splendor.” I will forever be grateful to Felicia for the beautiful reminder wrapped in the perfect song.

My little Noah: I will see you on the other side…