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Every Easter I celebrate the beauty of the resurrection and the hope it gives.
Let me tell you about my own Easter Sunday twenty-one years ago as I related to Mary Magdalene.
The horror of Good Friday was over. It was Easter Sunday.
In the darkness of the morning she stood at the empty tomb weeping.
Where had they taken Jesus’ body?
A man asked “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you seeking?”
Mary Magdalene did not recognize Him.
She thought He was the gardener.
Then he called her by name, Mary, and she knew it was Jesus.
She recognized her Savior and with incredible joy she told the disciples she had seen the Lord.
He cared about Mary’s tears. He cares about mine too. And I hope you know He cares about yours.
Scripture tells me that He even puts them in a bottle.
I imagine he used a gallon jug the night my son was born on my own dark Good Friday in 1990. I didn’t recognize Jesus that night.
I could not grasp the severity of my son’s congenital birth defects. Our future was blurred in uncertainty.
My son, Gabriel Steven Murfitt, was born on April 13, 1990, the Friday before Easter.
After a healthy pregnancy I was ready to welcome a new sibling for our three-year old son Zane. The labor and delivery went quickly with a room full of excited medical staff. No one expected what happened that night. There had been no indication of a problem.
After my final push I heard Dr. Rogers say “Oh, oh. We have some problems.”
I sat up and got a better look at his body. He was missing his arms. There were hands coming out of his shoulders. His legs were pulled up tight and Dr. Rogers couldn’t straighten them. He was fat and purple and his cry was deep and loud.
“This boy has some healthy lungs. But he has some problems with his arms.” Dr. Rogers cut the umbilical cord and wrapped our boy in a warm blanket and placed him on my chest.
Through my sobs I leaned down and kissed his red nose. “Hey buddy. You’re a chubby little guy. Mommy loves you. Don’t cry baby. It will be alright.”
That was one of the darkest days of my life. The fear of the unknown gripped me in a tight hold. I cried out to God. “Why Lord? Now what?”
I didn’t hear an immediate reply, but in the years that followed I’ve heard Him clearly.
In the days after Gabriel was born we discovered the extent of his challenges. His birth defects are very rare with a long name – Pseudo Thalidomide Tetra Phocomelia.
He was healthy enough to go home on Easter Sunday morning. Although Friday was a dark day, Sunday was glorious.
We met my family at my sister LeAnne’s house for an early afternoon brunch. Our son Zane enjoyed finding hidden eggs in the yard and Gabriel was passed around from one loving family member to another.
Later that afternoon Steve’s family surrounded us with love.
In my darkest hour, like Mary Magdalene, I was unable to see Jesus standing right in front of me the night my son was born.
Through the love of a family and a good friend who later invited me to a Bible teaching church, I finally saw Him.
I really saw Him. Not in an untouchable way but in a new and personal way.
Then I heard Jesus say as He had said to Mary, “Gigi, why are you weeping?”
I recognized that He was there all along. In the days and years of uncertainty. He was there.
He caught every one of my tears.
He provided me with grace for every struggle.
Each Easter I am reminded that the Lord was with me in my darkest nights.
He called my name, Gigi.
He asked me why I was weeping.
And I am thankful that I finally recognized Him as my Lord.
And now, after twenty-one years of watching God use Gabe as a messenger of HOPE and teaching me to trust, I continue to tell everyone that I have seen the Lord.
He is Risen INDEED!
I pray that you will see Him in whatever you are going through today.
Because He is there.
God Bless Your Heart with Easter HOPE
Gigi
This post makes me even more excited to share Gabe’s book with you. (His Message is C.L.E.A.R.) His life has been a testimony of how God works in a soul surrendered to His will. And I can honestly say today, IT IS WELL WITH MY SOUL…
He is Risen, Indeed!
Let me tell you about my own Easter Sunday twenty-one years ago as I related to Mary Magdalene.
The horror of Good Friday was over. It was Easter Sunday.
In the darkness of the morning she stood at the empty tomb weeping.
Where had they taken Jesus’ body?
A man asked “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you seeking?”
Mary Magdalene did not recognize Him.
She thought He was the gardener.
Then he called her by name, Mary, and she knew it was Jesus.
She recognized her Savior and with incredible joy she told the disciples she had seen the Lord.
He cared about Mary’s tears. He cares about mine too. And I hope you know He cares about yours.
Scripture tells me that He even puts them in a bottle.
I imagine he used a gallon jug the night my son was born on my own dark Good Friday in 1990. I didn’t recognize Jesus that night.
I could not grasp the severity of my son’s congenital birth defects. Our future was blurred in uncertainty.
My son, Gabriel Steven Murfitt, was born on April 13, 1990, the Friday before Easter.
After a healthy pregnancy I was ready to welcome a new sibling for our three-year old son Zane. The labor and delivery went quickly with a room full of excited medical staff. No one expected what happened that night. There had been no indication of a problem.
After my final push I heard Dr. Rogers say “Oh, oh. We have some problems.”
I sat up and got a better look at his body. He was missing his arms. There were hands coming out of his shoulders. His legs were pulled up tight and Dr. Rogers couldn’t straighten them. He was fat and purple and his cry was deep and loud.
“This boy has some healthy lungs. But he has some problems with his arms.” Dr. Rogers cut the umbilical cord and wrapped our boy in a warm blanket and placed him on my chest.
Through my sobs I leaned down and kissed his red nose. “Hey buddy. You’re a chubby little guy. Mommy loves you. Don’t cry baby. It will be alright.”
That was one of the darkest days of my life. The fear of the unknown gripped me in a tight hold. I cried out to God. “Why Lord? Now what?”
I didn’t hear an immediate reply, but in the years that followed I’ve heard Him clearly.
In the days after Gabriel was born we discovered the extent of his challenges. His birth defects are very rare with a long name – Pseudo Thalidomide Tetra Phocomelia.
He was healthy enough to go home on Easter Sunday morning. Although Friday was a dark day, Sunday was glorious.
We met my family at my sister LeAnne’s house for an early afternoon brunch. Our son Zane enjoyed finding hidden eggs in the yard and Gabriel was passed around from one loving family member to another.
Later that afternoon Steve’s family surrounded us with love.
In my darkest hour, like Mary Magdalene, I was unable to see Jesus standing right in front of me the night my son was born.
Through the love of a family and a good friend who later invited me to a Bible teaching church, I finally saw Him.
I really saw Him. Not in an untouchable way but in a new and personal way.
Then I heard Jesus say as He had said to Mary, “Gigi, why are you weeping?”
I recognized that He was there all along. In the days and years of uncertainty. He was there.
He caught every one of my tears.
He provided me with grace for every struggle.
Each Easter I am reminded that the Lord was with me in my darkest nights.
He called my name, Gigi.
He asked me why I was weeping.
And I am thankful that I finally recognized Him as my Lord.
And now, after twenty-one years of watching God use Gabe as a messenger of HOPE and teaching me to trust, I continue to tell everyone that I have seen the Lord.
He is Risen INDEED!
I pray that you will see Him in whatever you are going through today.
Because He is there.
God Bless Your Heart with Easter HOPE
Gigi
This post makes me even more excited to share Gabe’s book with you. (His Message is C.L.E.A.R.) His life has been a testimony of how God works in a soul surrendered to His will. And I can honestly say today, IT IS WELL WITH MY SOUL…
