The Healing Journey

August 10, 2025

The following excerpt is from Henri Nouwen’s “Turn My Mourning into Dancing: Finding Hope During Hard Times,” compiled and edited by Timothy Jones.

This afternoon, my good friend Jonas called, his voice trembling, shock muting his voice. His daughter, he told me, had died four hours after birth.

“Margaret and I and our three-year-old son, Sam, had so been looking forward to the new baby,” he said. “She had been born early in an emergency C-section, but still, it looked as if she would come through.” The vital signs soon told them that Rebecca could not live long.

In the intensive care unit, Jonas and Margaret held the tiny life in their arms. Then it was all over. Jonas said a prayer for the baby, he told me, and made the sign of the cross. I was struck by what Jonas said next. “Driving away from the hospital, I kept telling God, ‘You have given us Rebecca and now I return her to you. But I know a beautiful future is being cut off. It hurts so much to lose her. I feel such emptiness.’”

I searched for the right words. What could I say? I did not want to interfere with Jonas’s grieving. But I also knew that Jonas would not have to face this grief without consolation.

“Rebecca,” I said, “is your daughter—yours and Margaret’s. She always will be. Sam will always have a sister. Rebecca was given only a few hours, but they were not futile. Your prayers are not in vain. She lives now in God’s eternal embrace.”

It was a long conversation. I know my words gave only modest comfort. More than anything, Jonas and I wanted to hug one another and cry. How important did our friendship seem at such a time! And I wondered again, as perhaps we all wonder when grief hits hard and hurts us deeply: Why did such a thing happen? To reveal God’s glory? To remind us of the fragility of life? Or perhaps to deepen the faith of those who carry on? It is hard to answer yes when everything seems so dark.
©The Estate of Henri Nouwen

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