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In loving memory of
Matthew Thomas; who was with
us for a short 18 hours.

See the original at author's site


See also

God is really there

The will of God


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Were You there…Father,
When our son was first conceived?
Did You form his inward parts,
Knit him together…unperceived?

We do praise You…Father,
For the wonder of each birth;
With all our being…we praise You,
How awesome is your worth!

Were You there…Father,
Fashioning our tiny son;
Into a very unique person,
Another like him…not a one?

‘Tis said that in your Book,
All the days of our life are written;
Did You know his time was short,
To You…he’d soon be returning?

Were You there…Father,
When complications arose?
Did You guide the hands of those in charge,
Giving them wisdom…in what they chose?

Such a comfort afforded us,
As we felt your presence there;
It’s these very hard times,
That we learn just how much You care!

Were You there…Father?
Did You hear the prayers offered up;
By so many caring people,
Across the land…and close-up?

After hours of pain and suffering,
Passing on…and then brought back;
Still, this baby fought to live,
But, there was too much he lacked

Were You there…Father,
When his little heart stopped and began again;
‘Til there was nothing left of him,
Obvious…this battle…he couldn’t win?

About that time…the prayers changed,
“Lord, that he not suffer anymore…”;
And then…our son was gone,
The pain and suffering o’er

Were You there…Father,
Did You take him in your arms?
Did You bring him to Paradise,
Far away from all harm?

I know You took him…gently,
Cradled him…held him close;
I’m trusting in your Word,
Father…You were there!

Psalm 139:13-17

You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body
and knit me together in my mother’s womb
Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex!
Your workmanship is marvelous—how well I know it
You watched me as I was being formed in utter seclusion,
as I was woven together in the dark of the womb
You saw me before I was born
Every day of my life was recorded in your book
Every moment was laid out
before a single day had passed
How precious are your thoughts about me, O God
They cannot be numbered!