Gratitude

Vienna, the little downtown coffee shop, is always bursting with life throughout the day.  It’s more than just the freshly brewed coffee that invites locals in, but the laid back, eccentric ambiance.  It warmly welcomes a myriad of different patrons inside its doors from hip college students to mothers with active infants and children, to church leaders having meetings to executives conducting informal interviews.

After my morning coffee date, I ran into a friend who was meeting for a crochet group led by a lady named Barb.  I had spoken to her on Facebook a few times, but had never met her in person and my friend offered to introduce us.  

We greeted each other with a hug and I immediately felt a connection with the beautiful lady with silver hair, kind eyes and a gentle smile.  As Barb and I began chatting, I saw a soft, delicate pink crocheted square sitting on top of the table.

I asked her, “Mrs. Barb, is that a blanket you are making for Sparrow’s Cry?”

Apologetically, she said, “Yes, but I just wish I were quicker at making them.”

My heart felt such love for this woman as I reassured her that her blanket would fill the arms of the grieving parents it was created for at the perfect time.  

When I made it to my car, I thought about what I had just witnessed.  There, in the middle of that busy little shop with it’s activity of people and tables topped with mugs, dishes, laptops and paperwork, stands a table with a simple, delicate pink crocheted square, yarn and crochet hooks spread across it.  Most people wouldn’t even notice it, let alone know what it is being created to be. For they are blankets given to parents who have lost their unborn or newly born babies to catch tears and fill aching, empty arms. They provide something tangible for the intangible losses of miscarriage and abortion and honor the life of their child.  What a priceless gift from the hands of one Mama to another to acknowledge that her baby isn’t forgotten and her grief doesn’t go unnoticed.

A vision popped in my head and there were multitudes of healthy, content babies all around me, each one wrapped up in the blankets volunteers have so lovingly made.  And I heard Him say, “Thank you. Thank you for giving these lives worth on earth.”

You may think you’re not important to Sparrow’s Cry, but your contribution is that beautiful pink blanket that stands out amid the hustle and bustle of life.  You are the one, like Mrs. Barb, who chooses to validate the lives of the unborn or newly born babies, no matter how short, as one of worth…to their parents…to society…to God.   You honor the least of these…each tiny human who is not forgotten, but is loved and fully alive in heaven. You see past the brave faces of those who have lost a baby and see their deepest grief while others minimize or dismiss it. You are the ones behind the scenes, changing the lives of others with your compassion and love.       

So to those who make blankets, booties and hats…

to the potter who donates tear jars…

To the prayer warriors…

To the crafters…

To those who give of their time, talents and money…

To those who lead and support me…

To those who share their wisdom and advice…

To those who encourage and inspire…

To those who send boxes to others…

To those who share posts…

To those who reach out to grieving parents…

To those who aren’t afraid to talk about it…

Thank you for being a Mrs. Barb.  

“The Lord has sent me to comfort all those who mourn, to give to those who mourn in Zion joy and gladness instead of grief, a song of praise instead of sorrow. “  Isaiah 61:2-3