It was the morning after she died. The morning had the audacity to show its face through my windows. Having spent most of the night pacing and searching for someone I knew I ‘d never find in my home or arms again. . . Each hour brought a new level of physical pain and swelling. . . Weaning without warning. Searching without finding. . .dead but still breathing. . . Heart shattered but still beating. . . Gutted and Hollowed out.  I died with her but in some cruel twist of Gods unfathomable direction, I had survived. Feeling shocked and destroyed and assaulted and broken beyond any hope of repair. 

What do you do on that morning? What do you do when you cannot feel the new mercies that are promised to come with each new day?  Who could help me? Who did I know who had given a child back to the Lord? Who had survived this and somehow remained in the close fold of our Lords arms? 

I hadn’t begged God for this child. . . She was a gift freely given from the best parts of my Gods Kindness.  But I did know of someone who begged God for the miracle of the sacred time from birth to weaning. . . Who wanted it so badly  she agreed to the terms of the contract ahead of time. One I could never sign but was being asked to live out. . .

I did not know if I would survive.  If my mind would stay intact. If my family would be destroyed and forever defined by the events of yesterday. I did not know if I could do any of it.  I did not know. 

But He did. 

He knew the rays of sun that morning would fall on the open page of the book that would keep me alive. . . The same page I would read at her  funeral in 3 days.  That on the sweet pages of Samuel, I would publicly beg to be given the miraculous gift of a heart like Hannah’s.  I asked for her prayer to become our prayer. . . 

But I didn’t know He would be so faithful to answer it in the very same way. . . 

That if I let Him be the author of our family, He would write us our very own book of Samuel.  I will join Hannah in the holy moments of knowing God has heard your cry and His answer is this child , our Samuel . . .  Just as I joined Hannah in the pain of the offering of giving a child back to the Lord. Only God. 

Samuel . . . God has heard 

Ransom. . . rescue or deliverance . . . A price paid for freedom. . . 

How thankful we are for both. How thankful we are for the miracle of . . . 

Samuel Ransom Holliday. . . 

You make us sure of what we cannot see

Grateful for what we did not ask for 

And blessed beyond our heart’s deepest dreams. 

As surely as you live , my lord, I am the woman who stood here beside you praying to the Lord. I prayed for this child and the Lord has granted me what I asked of Him. 1 Samuel 1:26-27