Your Name, ending at the beginning

I have loved writing these letters to you, Miah, even though it was scary for me to share them. I loved how these little notes gave others a glimpse of your sweet personality. It was so fun to watch you after you were born, and realize that I already knew you. I was not surprised at all that you chose not to complain when you were uncomfortable. I was not surprised that you liked cuddling, and people singing to you. I certainly wasn't surprised that you enjoyed visitors who came to hold you. At times, it seemed to me that you were holding on to life so that you could meet just one more person. You would coo and gurgle in their arms, like you were trying to tell them a million important things in the few moments you had with them. I wonder what you were trying to say.

I have already told about the scripture that inspired your name- Jeremiah 1:5.

"Before I formed thee in the belly I knew thee, and before thou camest forth out of the womb I sanctified thee..."

As I watched your life, I came to realize the following 2 verses were equally appropriate:

"Then said I, Ah, Lord God! Behold, I cannot speak: for I am a child.

But the Lord said unto me, Say not, I am a child: for thou shalt go to all that I shall send thee, and whatsoever I command thee

thou shalt speak."

Without words, you spoke to hundreds of people. I'm not fully aware of what you taught them, but I know you did it bravely and honestly and quietly. I suspect that those lessons were very personal and individual. In a very intimate way, you taught me about the nature of God. Your lessons, over and over again, taught me that God is not some airy formless thing that watches over the universe as a whole. He is real. You have taught me that He watches over me with even more intensity and carefulness than I did the 120 1/2 hours I watched you without sleeping. He cries over me when I struggle with more compassion than I cried over watching you struggle for breath. There have been times, that I didn't recognize before, when He held me with more tenderness and commitment than I did when you died in my arms. And He looks forward to my coming back to him with even more ache and anxiousness than I feel for you, my precious baby girl.

I wrote these letters, even though it was really scary, because you couldn't. I believe you had things to speak and teach. I know that you wanted to visit everyone, but you couldn't. I hope that I said things right...the way you wanted them to be said- honestly and bravely. This being your last letter, I need to say again that I am so proud of you. You lived a perfect life. I assure that you will never be forgotten or overlooked by your family. You will be a part of every Christmas card. You will be mentioned in every bedtime prayer. You are forever a member of our family and we love you.