For now, this is a letter Daniel and I wrote to him and read at the memorial service on Saturday:
Your brother & sister already miss you and our mommy & daddy hearts ache for you, love. When we told your brother and sister you went to be with Jesus they rejoiced. Ryder said with delight & wonder, “REALLY?” But then as the tears flowed his 4 year old heart said what we were all really feeling inside, “But we didn’t even get to have him at our home with us.” Paisley has been thinking of you a lot this week and finally she spoke in her own sweet, calm, assuring way- reminding us all what we needed to be reminded, “Gibson is with God.” She knows you are being cared for, dear.
You taught us all so much in your short life.
From the very beginning, on this stage while worshiping, God spoke to me through you. As I felt you move within God began to speak love over me. Teaching me that His love for me, and my trust in Him was not dependant on outcomes or any prognosis that doctors gave me for you. That His love for me & for you, sweet boy was unwavering. You taught us to trust, to hold tight to the grip of God’s hand and the grip of each other, to trust that God’s purpose was greater and IS greater. And with every little moment that you grasped onto our hands with your tiny fingers we learned to hold even tighter to His.
Romans 5:5 says, “Hope does not disappoint because God has poured out His love into our hearts.” You son, taught us what Hope truly is as your love was poured into our hearts. We hoped from the beginning we would hold you... and we did. We hoped you would be brave... and you were. We hoped in moments of fear you would fight... and you did. We hoped you would be feisty... and you were, more each day. We hoped your brother & sister would fall madly in love with you... and they did. We hoped your spirit would be intoxicating to those around you... and it was.
Even when we didn’t get all that we hoped for in this earthly life for you, our deepest hope was that you would be healed and whole...and now you are. We hope that your short life points others to Christ... and it does.
Most of all, you taught us to be thankful- thankful for God’s grace. Thankful for our family, for love beyond understanding, for all the hard moments we get to spend together. You taught us to take every moment we were allowed with you and savor it deep in our souls, to soak it in. At the end of the day to leave the hospital thankful that we saw your piercing blue eyes staring at us and thankful that we had your sweet scent all over us as we walked to our cars with tearful eyes. Thankful for each of the 108 tangible days we had with you.
And out of thankfulness comes worship. We named you after a musical instrument and you will always bring sweet music to our hearts. You taught us what no book, teacher, school or lesson could teach us about worship: that it is birthed out of a deep thankfulness, a brokenness, a need for more, and a deep desire to love and praise the creator of all. Even when no words come, even when we are stilled before Him we will choose to worship.
Thank you, Gibson. We are forever changed by you.
We will love you always.