How do we, as Christians, come to grips with the loss of a child?

Death is such a strange companion, but a constant companion of life. Just as life and the joy of living lift us, then comes death and the agony of loss.

I certainly cannot explain why a young life with so much promise is ended in a split second, any more than I can explain why others are allowed a long life of misery and desperation.

Is there a reason? No. None that I can find. None that makes sense. None that can offer comfort. None that can explain.

No, there just isn’t a good answer. It’s just life and death and being.

Is there any good that can come from the death of a child of promise, a child of destiny — any child, for that matter? The feelings of our personal loss and God’s apparent betrayal overwhelm us. How can it be God’s will that a young life be closed out so early with no warning, no restitution, no justification and no peace?

If I could just be sure that there was more to life than these bodies we drag around. If I could just be sure I would go to a heavenly home of peace after I cross the finish line. If I could just be sure there was more to my existence than this life.

If I could just be sure ...

Life is hard. It has its ups and downs, failures and successes. It is life, nothing more, nothing less. But it is important to remember that before life there is God, that after life there is God, and in between we struggle in this world to be in God, of God and with God.

Death is not the end of our journey but the return to the final reality of our Lord and Maker in heaven. If we blindly accept this world and this life as our only reality, we can never be more than the limits this life allows.

To be living and working in preparation for a return to our heavenly reward to the loving care of our Lord makes this life meaningful and full.

And life goes on.

For services this Sunday past, there were five roses on the altar at my church, each representing a new life, born into our church family last week. Five reasons to glorify God, five reasons to sing His praises, five reasons to believe. I was privileged to be the grandfather of one of those newborns.

I saw the beauty of a cherished life when I held my little granddaughter, Abigail, hours after she was taken from her mother’s womb. Straight from heaven into our world and into my arms.

The last one to hold her was God in heaven. And when her time comes, He will be the first to embrace her on the other side.

It’s the in-between time, life, that God challenges us all to care for her as if we alone were caretakers of God’s precious wonders.

Life is a gift of the Almighty. We know not how long or short, how rich or poor, how sick or well, how sad or happy. Life is not a well-defined calculation; at best it is random and chaotic. And when it ends and slips to another reality, we will return to the warm and loving embrace of our Lord. 

The loss of Alana Hester is such a tragic blow to our community — seemingly senseless loss of a child of promise, a child of love. But as with all God’s children, He was waiting for her at the gate last Thursday. She is in a place that we will all one day call home.

Her race is done. The simple peace and happiness that only comes from a joyful homecoming is with her. May she rest in the peace of the Lord.

Meriwether’s column runs every other Thursday on the editorial page.