Leah Stirewalt

Out of Deep Waters

You Not Die Mommy?

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Those words from my little three-year-old blonde bundle pierced my heart this morning, “You not die Mommy?”

I carried him into preschool as those very words came from his lips. I stopped in my tracks.

I’ve had some very difficult drop-offs with Austyn lately at school. He loves going there, and this didn’t happen until after Joel went to Heaven. I’ve left that place many a time with tears streaming down my face, begging God to let me just take him back home. But, God hasn’t revealed a way for that to happen yet. In the meantime, we trudged through the difficult drop off mornings.

This morning…those words illuminated my little man’s fear and pain. He might only be three-years-old, but he gets it. Loss, that is. He may not remember his birth parents, since we’ve been part of his life since he was six months old, but he remembers his adoptive daddy…the one who sang him to sleep most nights, who changed his diapers, who taught him to build things with Play-Doh, and who wrestled with him on the floor most evenings. He also remembers Daddy went to Heaven to live with Jesus 22 days ago.

And now…he wants to know if Mommy is leaving him too. It took everything in me to hold my composure when he asked me that question this morning. But, the tears are pouring now as I type these words.

The truth…I didn’t know how to answer him. If I told him the truth in that moment, would I increase his fear of losing his mommy? If I lied to him, will he one day not trust the promises I make him?

Holy Spirit…please give me the words to speak in this situation…now!

Austyn…mommy plans to be here to pick you up this afternoon. Mommy will not die until God says it’s time for me to go to Heaven, but I believe He wants me to be your Mommy for quite awhile. So, put a smile on that face, have a great day, and look forward to mommy coming to get you this afternoon!

That’s it friends…I had nothing else to offer in that moment. But, he seemed content with that response, and it was the best drop off we’ve had in the last 22 days.

Abba – please let my children know you intimately as Daddy right now, as I am simply not enough.

The Last Words We Shared

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I’ll never forget the last conversation I had with my precious Joel. Those words will both forever bless me and haunt me.

The conversation was beside his bed in the ICU. He drew me in close. We both knew the ventilator would be inserted soon, and we didn’t know how long it would be before we’d be able to exchange precious words again (little did I know then…those would be the last words we’d ever share this side of eternity).

He told me a few housekeeping type things that would be helpful in case he were in the hospital for a few days…little did we know. Then, he started to pray…with tears streaming down his face. I won’t go into the details of his prayer, because that will remain forever between the two of us. However…some of the things he included…(1) asking God to spare his life to be available to me to help parent our newest adopted children, (2) asking for forgiveness of all his sins, and (3) asking God to be ever by my side.

Soon after he prayed with me, one of the surgeons walked into the room – a man he knew from working with him in the same hospital system. I’ll never forget the words spoken between the two of them:

Joel: “Doctor…please do all that you can to save my life. We have four little children back home, in addition to our older children. I need to be here for them and for Leah.”

The doctor: “Hey buddy…keep your chin up. It’ll be okay.”

Very few words were spoken between us after that. The ventilator was inserted. Tubes were run all over his body. Medications were administered as often as they could.

And…a little over twelve hours later…my beloved was gone.

This picture was taken looking into the very room where my husband and I last prayed together and where his spirit departed for his Heavenly home. The exact time of this photo was shortly before the failed attempt was made to move him to a larger hospital facility. They were getting him ready, but he coded and was no longer a candidate for transport.