Today, we celebrate love and we remember a tiny baby, who was welcomed home to heaven at birth.

Today, as we ponder the Lord’s Passion, we also ponder the passion of two parents, who, on this day, remember their own journey to the cross.

It was a day in January that the doctor told them they had to have an abortion because their unborn baby would be dying. The doctor’s office thoughtfully made the appointment.

They told me it was the most freeing moment of their lives, the moment they made the decision not to have the abortion. They told me that they were able to let go, to leave their baby in God’s hands and to grieve without guilt.

This day in March is reserved for Logan. His parents changed my life with their decision.

I remember picking up my mother-in-law from the hospital where she had gone upon the news, to hold the baby and comfort her daughter. We had lunch at Bob Evans. She didn’t cry; she talked about how beautiful the baby was, how small, how frail, what a blessing.

I remember watching the funeral director cry when I took my mother-in-law to make the arrangements. He took her hand and told her he was sorry. She comforted him. “We need him in heaven praying for us,” she explained to him, tears in her own eyes.

It was the third time she made arrangements, and the second time for her second daughter.

I remember sitting in the pew at the service, and I remember not being able to look at the man I would later marry. We drove by the grave, though there was no service. The day was gray and appropriately dreary. I couldn’t think about the little baby in the ground. I couldn’t think of dear Susan and strong Al and their girls. It was too much.

I realized, when I saw that small white casket from the back of the chapel, that there was no fence. My theories and confident explanations about a woman’s right to choose were, all of a sudden, inapplicable.

I realized, when I saw two small girls sitting on their father’s lap, holding their mother’s hand, that God gives us miracles in many ways.

I realized, in looking back, that it would take nothing less than a buried baby to turn me around.

Today, we remember Logan, and we think of the impact he made. Today, I remember the Cross and the way I watched God comfort Susan. Today, as on so many other days, I long for the day when we shall meet face-to-face.

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