One Day That Changed Everything

May 20, 2000. I was 26 years old, married for 5 years, had bought our first home, and we were expecting our first child. Life was going, more or less, according to the plans we had made when we were married.
On this particular day, we were at Shelby Farms just outside of Memphis, Tennessee with a group of young people from Calvary Baptist Church attending the "Passion: One Day" gathering. It was a day of praise and worship, solemn prayer, and thanksgiving. Little did we know that in just a few short hours we'd have our faith and resolve put to the test in a devastating way.
For those who weren't there, Memphis was getting a light SOAKING that day. Not much heavy rain, but a slight drizzle off and on, as well as a thick mist that seemed to saturate the very fiber of your being. We were not deterred, however, we enjoyed the day as if we expected God Himself to make an appearance among us. He did.
Jami (my wife) began to feel a bit "under the weather" as the day went on, but we all believed it was just because of the foul weather. We went back to our hotel rooms, enjoyed the evening with a lot of chatter, and prepared for the trip home the next morning. Jami never got over that sick feeling. On the trip home we had to pull over a couple of times for her to be sick.
We made it home safely and got to bed not a moment too soon. Jami didn't sleep well, and somewhere around 2:00 or 3:00 in the morning she woke me up with trembling hands. "Something's wrong, and I think I need to go to the hospital," she said. Without hesitation, we made the two block journey to the emergency room.
The doctor tending the emergency room that night was unimaginably rude, given the circumstances of Jami's pregnancy and her concern for the symptoms she was experiencing. We were confused and distressed, not knowing what to make of all of this. "Is this normal?" we kept asking the doctor, nurses, ourselves, and each other. No one gave us a direct answer. They were vague, but in hindsight I understand why. We were told they'd run more tests and perform an ultrasound later in the morning. We could do nothing but wait in confusion, fear, frustration, and, thanks to the doctor's attitude, total humiliation.
Later that morning, we were ready for the ultrasound. It didn't take long for the unmistakable look of disappointment to appear on the technician's face. He began to say "I'm sorry...," but we already knew the rest of his words without needing to hear them. Jami sobbed uncontrollably, I leaned over to hold her, and the technician tried his best to be delicate with the rest of his words. "There's no heartbeat. We can see the baby, but the heartbeat just isn't there." He was truly moved by our pain, but was powerless to do anything about it. He was silent for what seemed like an eternity, and allowed us to have a few minutes to let the shock sink in completely.
I wanted to beg him for more information. Is there anything that can be done? Are you absolutely sure the baby's dead? Could there be something wrong with the machine? The look on his face answered all of those questions and any others I might could have thought of in that moment. I said nothing. It was hopeless. The baby was gone. We could see the tiny shape of her (afterwards, Jami and I were astonished to discover that though we never found out the sex of the baby, we both secretly believed it to be a girl. To us, it always will be) - the body, head, tiny arms and legs beginning t0 take shape. What should have been a perfect little child was just perfectly still. Nothing anyone could do would ever change that.
All of the necessary procedures were performed later in the day. We were surrounded by friends and family, many of whom just sat with us silently. That was all we really wanted that day. Quiet support and assurance. No grand words of uplifting hope, just shared sorrow.
I prayed constantly from the moment we had left to go to the hospital. I had prayed that everything would be okay, until we found out things weren't okay. I prayed for strength for the both of us, until we were able to cope with the initial shock of our loss. Then I began to pray the prayer that was probably the most significant. I pledged to God that should He see fit to grant us with another chance at parenthood, my overriding goal would be to raise that child to be an intellectual giant in the Faith. This wasn't a "deal" prayer, quid pro quo, name-it-claim-it, or any of that nonsense. This prayer came from a place of understanding and acceptance of His sovereignty in all things. This prayer meant that I would be faithful in any situation, regardless of the outcome. Out of complete devastation was born stubborn resolve. I still pray that prayer.
When we got home the next day, we pulled into the driveway to a curious sight. A single small, delicate flower, pinkish-purple in color, that had NEVER appeared there before had sprouted, grown up, and bloomed right under our bedroom window. I had mowed the lawn just a few days before. The flower wasn't there. I took the trash to the curb when we had returned home from Memphis the day before. The flower wasn't there. When we left in the middle of the night for the emergency room the flower wasn't there. Yet, when we had been through so much pain in only a few short hours, there was that solitary bloom given to us in ONE DAY. We stood there looking at it for a few minutes. I felt like Noah witnessing the first rainbow. We looked at each other and agreed that this was a promise from God. He gives and takes away, but the result is always simply beautiful.
We now have the two most beautiful kids on the planet. This isn't conjecture - it's fact. I've seen lots of kids, and none of them look like Jami and I, only mine. Therefore, they have to be the most beautiful! They are healthy, happy, and a bit spoiled. Christian was born less than a year later (March 29, 2001), and when I first saw him I knew the task ahead. I'd made a promise to God and to that new baby boy, and I will keep that promise. Paige was given to us February 8, 2004, and she sings "Jesus Loves Me" in her own weird language, but she sings it like she means it. I'll let Jars of Clay explain what I feel when I watch her sing-

"Someday she'll understand the meaning of it all.
He's more than the laughter or the stars in the Heavens,
As close as a heartbeat or a song on her lips,
Someday she'll trust Him and learn how to see Him,
Someday He'll call her, and she will come running,
And fall in His arms, and tears will fall down and she'll pray.
I want to fall in love with You,
I want to fall in love with You." - "Love Song For A Savior"

This is the only truly important thing in all my life. It only took ONE DAY to realize it.