Ernest Hemingway was once asked to write a story in just 6 words. He wrote . . .
“For Sale. Baby Shoes. Never Worn”.
Yesterday, high in the Smokies in a graveyard behind a small, century old church nestled in the forest I read Hemingway’s hauntingly untold story on a tiny tombstone.
Standing there, the “Why?” of this nameless infant’s fate begged an answer that only faith in God’s unfathomable sovereignty can leave unanswered until revealed in heaven someday.
Standing there, this nameless infant’s tombstone silently spoke of the uncertain, fearful brevity of life that only the certainty of God’s love and Christ’s sacrifice can calm.
Standing there, I imagined the tears fallen on this nameless infant’s tombstone that would mingle with mine . . . tears not from Pro-Life or Pro- Choice eyes, but pure, heartfelt tears shed over the priceless sanctity of life.
Standing there, the sun’s warmth touched on my neck and embraced me with a peaceful assurance that someday I will see, know and share eternity with this nameless infant who now has a forever name where . . .
“He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.” – Proverbs 21:4
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