Silent Strength

She was 7 pounds, 2 ounces of a dream come true.....19 1/4 inches long. She had precious cherub cheeks, peach fuzz on top of a round little head, and the perfect pug nose like her brothers. She was the fourth child, the first daughter, the youngest sister to three older brothers, and the first granddaughter on her Mommy's side. Her nursery was done in blues and yellows, but had the perfect amount of pink added in. She had a beautiful, white iron canopy crib with the dress she was to wear home from the hospital hanging on the side. Her closet was full of sweet, simple dresses that would allow her Mommy to dress her up. She was so loved, so wanted, so adored. She was Claire.

What I don't know is what color her eyes were. They may have been a beautiful shade of blue like her Daddy's, or a deep shade of brown like her Mommy's. Or maybe the perfect combination of both and her own shade of green. I can't tell you if her cry was loud and boisterous, or sweet, quiet and angelic. I am not sure what her smile looked like, or if her cheek flashed a dimple when she laughed. However, I can tell you that she was absolutely beautiful with her eyes closed. I don't know if she was shy and quiet like her Mommy, or more outgoing like her Daddy. I will always wonder if she would have liked playing with baby dolls, dressing up, and sporting flashy necklaces as she pranced around the house in plastic high heels, or if she would have played ball, cars and trucks, climbed trees, and been a tomboy as she grew.

Her Mommy was scheduled to have her on June 27th, but she was born on June 25th instead. I can vividly still hear things that were said on that day, that were seen on that day, that were heard on that day, and that were felt on that day. I can recall events that happened almost 15 years ago like they happened yesterday. Lessons learned, emotions felt, questions asked but not answered. What should have been one of the happiest moments quickly changed to a very hard, life changing, devastating day as Claire was born without a heartbeat. Still. Quiet.

I was lucky enough to be able to see her, hold her, talk to her. It wasn't long, but the five minutes that I spent with her, holding her precious body, touched me more than some people that I have spent days with, weeks with, months with. She never moved, never uttered a sound, yet God used and continues to use her more powerfully in my life than most people who have spoken thousands of words to me. She didn't wrap her hand around my finger, or look me in the eye, yet she touched me deeply in ways that I cannot explain. Those five minutes were life changing, but so was everything else about her.

I learned the day of her birth that she shared my name. For nine months, she had been called baby Claire. Yet along the way, without my awareness, her parents had chosen her full name to be Meredith Claire. It was one of the most amazing, meaningful, thoughtful gifts I have ever been given. One that truly touched me for a lifetime. Her name challenges me, encourages me, strengthens me, and reminds me of who I am, and who I hope to become. Her name drives me. For whenever I say my name, I am reminded of her.

She never made a sound, never said a word, never even opened her eyes, yet God used her powerfully in my life and in the lives of others. God's strength was seen in her parents as they grieved her loss, God's love was witnessed in the way others poured love over that family during a very tragic time, God's comfort was felt as He carried those that missed her terribly. God's sacrifice, love, faithfulness, and goodness all became very real as we were reminded that we would see her again one day with Him. It wasn't good-bye, it was see you later.

I have learned through her life and through her death that God can and will use me. I don't have to utter a sound, say a word, move a muscle and He has the power to use me in the lives of others. It isn't about me, it isn't up to me, it isn't something I can accomplish on my own. I often find myself questioning if I am doing enough, if I have prepared myself to be used in the lives of others. However, Claire's life and death remind me that it truly isn't about me. It isn't about what I think I need to do, or positioning myself so that He can use me. It is truly about Him, His power, His desires, His will. God can speak through people, experiences, things. His voice can be heard through others without them even being aware of it. I am so thankful that He chose a 7 pound, 2 ounce precious baby girl to speak to me for a lifetime. I just can't wait to wrap my arms around her again.