Wednesday, February 17, 2010

My prayer for my son

I wish I could write a poem, but I'm not a poet. I wish I could write a song, but I can't. What I feel right now is something that straight exposition cannot communicate. My heart aches, and I can't pen a reasonable-enough argument for it that you can't help but comprehend. This seems like something that only a song can communicate, so I will use someone else's.

Psalm 6

1 O LORD, do not rebuke me in Your anger,
Nor chasten me in Your wrath.
2Be gracious to me, O LORD, for I am pining away;
Heal me, O LORD, for my bones are dismayed.
3And my soul is greatly dismayed;
But You, O LORD--how long?
4Return, O LORD, rescue my soul;
Save me because of Your lovingkindness.
5For there is no mention of You in death;
In Sheol who will give You thanks?
6I am weary with my sighing;
Every night I make my bed swim,
I dissolve my couch with my tears.
7My eye has wasted away with grief;
It has become old because of all my adversaries.

I prayed verse 5 over and over again. I was on my knees while they were doing the C-Section. They offered to get me gowned up so I could be there, but I knew I had important work to do, work I could only do on my knees with my tears. I just wanted them to do their job while I did mine. I prayed: If he dies, who will praise you? Who will tell of your mighty deeds?

It seemed like a few minutes but it had actually been much longer. There is a peace that comes after a time. I think peace can either come through the belief that something good is going to happen or it can come from an exhausted submission. The latter is what I felt. I finished the 100th rendition of my prayer and then in my quiet misery, I softly spoke “I will. I will still praise you. No matter what.”

My cries grew louder as I began to pray “Lord, please save my son. Please take him in your loving arms. Please accept him.”

The stillbirth certificate reads: Athanasius Creed Skrip. Born 2/15/2010, 3:47am.

I couldn't remember which Psalm I was praying. I wanted to read it in full. A little bit of searching led me to the reference: Psalm 6.

I had forgotten how it ended.

8Depart from me, all you who do iniquity,
For the LORD has heard the voice of my weeping.
9The LORD has heard my supplication,
The LORD receives my prayer.
10All my enemies will be ashamed and greatly dismayed;
They shall turn back, they will suddenly be ashamed.

The Lord heard my prayer. He knows my heart. He saved my son. He didn't save him to a life of pain and fleshly struggles, but he saved him to Himself. I will see my son again, and I will never hear him cry.


  1. Beautiful, and I am sorry - so sorry. Better days are ahead, as I know you know. I am praying for you here and feeling for you from afar.

  2. Zack, I am so sorry for your loss, you are and always will be a wonderful father. You and Leanne are in my thoughts and prayers; I hope and pray you both will find peace and comfort during this difficult time.