WalkerFamilyLife Blog

I’ve just finished listening to the broadcasts that will be broadcast next week (June 15-19) recounting the events one year ago when little Molly Mutz was born and died in just one week. These broadcasts literally take you inside the hospital room, including audio from personal video recordings, and help you process with the Mutz and Rainey families this seemingly senseless tragedy. Find a station or listen online at http://www.familylifetoday.com next week. You’ll be inspired and have your faith strengthened!

If you’ve been following the heartbreaking journey of Jake and Rebecca Mutz (Dennis and Barbara Rainey’s daughter and son-in-law), you may know that they recently lost their second child. Rebecca has been keeping a blog called What’s Cooking? through the process and it has much to teach us about faith in the midst of suffering and how best to minister those who are going through suffering. Articles like this one can be so helpful in learning how to help when you don’t know what to say.

For those of you who remember the story of Molly last year, read this latest post from Barbara Rainey about their daughter’s most recent challenge. If you haven’t read it, you need to.

Barbara Rainey recently shared on FamilyLife’s MomBlog about how Jake and Rebecca are doing two months after they lost their daughter. Read the story here from bottom to top

This is the 3rd in a series of emails that I received from Dennis Rainey concerning their granddaughter. I post it for your encouragement in your own difficulties

Thanks to all of you for your prayers and emails of comfort. Please continue to pray for Rebecca and Jake as they continue their journey through the valley. Also, if you know of others here at FamilyLife or your church who have lost a child in the past few years, I’d encourage you to pray for them as well. We are finding that there are a whole lot of moms and dads quietly mourning the loss of a child. I now better understand why the pain doesn’t stop after a couple of years.
We arrived home yesterday afternoon. I could not have answered you at that time, How are you doing? But Barbara did in her email to our family below. (Please feel free to forward to any person you know who could benefit, but without our email address, please.)
We love you,
Dennis

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Today we flew home, Dennis and I. Part of me was ready to go home, but part of me wanted still to be near Rebecca and Jacob. I said as we boarded the plane that all I wanted to do when I got home was go to bed for about 24 hours. The long 12 day journey with Rebecca and Jacob was beginning to catch up with me.
When we arrived home and I did a quick scan of the house and yard to survey what had changed while we were gone, but it felt so empty, so like it was when we left.
But I was not like I was when I left.
I immediately got the box that held all the stuff that didn’t fit in my carryon bag and unloaded it to find the photos safely placed in the sturdy flat bottom of the box. I wanted my house touched by Molly. The page of Molly’s sunset photos, the black and whites of the memorial service and the pink card with her footprints are propped up on the kitchen counter. And I cried again. I missed Molly.
I don’t want to return to ‘normal’ life.
I tried to take a nap and eventually dozed off for a short while, but my mind was whirling with the memories, the songs, the verses, the hundreds of evidences of God’s mercy and love we saw in 12 days.
Yesterday Rebecca and I went to visit Molly’s grave. We cried a little, I did more than she, I think, but it was a sweet hour spent sitting on the grass talking about Molly’s precious life, about God’s purposes, our faith, and the amazing work of the Holy Spirit within us. It’s the kind of talk a parent dreams of having with their child, friend to friend, sister in Christ to sister in Christ, with no rush, no feelings of being preached to, just pondering the wonders of the Creator God. Only my vision of that conversation was never imagined at the side of a tiny grave freshly mounded with sod baking dry in the summer sun.
Dennis is opening the stacks of mail as I write. It has to be done, but I’m not ready for the mundane. We’ve been on holy ground. We’ve experienced the power of the Almighty. We’ve been touched by Molly and I don’t want the scent of her sweet life to go away. The nearness of God is now more precious than ever. I know the trivial numbs me. I wish it didn’t.
Our families have been in a valley. A sacred valley. Hemmed in on all sides by the pain of loss and grief and suffering. We’ve discovered the meaning of words we’ve known but haven’t been close to in many years, or for some of our children, words they’ve never known: anguish, darkness, sorrow, mystery, agony, distress. But each of us has also been touched by sovereignty, purpose, kindness, grace, mercy, presence and immeasurable love. Molly led us there.
I can’t quit singing “Untitled Hymn” by Chris Rice. I keep imagining Molly dancing with Jesus, laughing in glory. She brought us a touch of heaven in her seven days on this planet and left us with a greater vision of God. Her life was indeed mighty and magnificent.

Several years ago I discovered a book of Puritan prayers. This afternoon as I’m resisting the pull of normalcy I remembered the first prayer in the book, “The Valley of Vision”. A few lines from that prayer are:
“Thou hast brought me to the valley of vision,
Where I live in the depths but see thee in the heights.
Let me learn that the valley is the place of vision.
Lord, in the daytime stars can be seen from the deepest wells,
And the deeper the wells the brighter thy stars shine;
Let me find thy light in my darkness,
Thy life in my death,
Thy joy in my sorrow,
Thy grace in my sin,
Thy riches in my poverty
Thy glory in my valley.

I want to stay in this deep well where we’ve seen stars shine. I want to stay in this valley that I may continue to see the light of the glory of God’s great goodness. Yes, we have been touched by Molly, but it was God who gave her and took her and revealed Himself to us in a myriad of ways that we might know Him more fully.
I gave Rebecca this quote about suffering that has given me great hope over the years.
“The suffering caused by shattered dreams must not be thought of as something to relieve if we can or endure if we must. It’s an opportunity to be embraced, a chance to discover our desire for the highest blessing God wants to give us, AN ENCOUNTER WITH HIMSELF.”

We have been embraced by God.
We have encountered the Almighty in the valley.
We have been touched by Molly.
Molly touched us with His great love.

Molly, we will never forget you because you brought us the sweet and powerful embrace of God.
We will love you forever and can’t wait to see you soon in the palace of the King!

“Mimi”
Barbara Rainey

This is the second in a series of emails that I received from Dennis Rainey in June concerning his granddaughter. I post it here for encouragement in your own struggles.

On Thursday, Miss Molly made her way to her new home in heaven around 6:15 pm. Her last day with us began with a pretty average sunrise, but the sunset that closed out her Coronation Day was spectacular.

As we left the hospital, thunderstorms had blown up over the mountains resulting in a dazzling sunset splashing platinum gold shafts of light all over the Rockies. The light behind the clouds was brilliant. It was as though the sun was declaring, Magnificent Molly is home! What a homecoming it must have been…saying good bye and letting her leave this earthly home was one tough assignment for a young mother and father and a couple of families that had become hopelessly attached to this fragile little girl.

The Scriptures declare, “This is the day the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it.” That verse challenged our faith all day long, but it was nonetheless a day ordered by God’s sovereign hand of love and mercy.

Jake and Rebecca spent nearly all morning with Molly. As we arrived, Beth, Molly’s nurse and an angel herself, told us that Molly’s vital signs were slipping. Her little heart was racing at over 170 beats per minute and she was receiving 100 per cent pure oxygen, yet, her oxygen saturation level in her blood stream was down to 80. She was losing color. The nurse told us that it was Molly’s way of telling her parents, “it’s time for me to leave you and go home to heaven.” I am weeping as I write these words, none of us wanted Molly to leave.

Around noon, Rebecca and Jake honored all of us as grandparents by giving us the honor and privilege of holding Molly and gave us a moment to say good bye. None of us expected we’d get that treat. We didn’t want to rob them of one moment with their precious daughter.

Barbara got to be first. It was quite a maneuver to make sure all the wires and tubes that were supporting Molly’s life didn’t get tangled, but finally there she was in her arms, Mimi’s granddaughter. Barbara kept saying how much of an honor it was hold this little princess of the King. She held her close and cooed words of love and admiration over her beautiful face. Smiles and tears mingled.

Jake’s parents soaked all of her they could in and when it was Bill’s turn, he stroked her face, tenderly whispered his love for her and shared his favorite Scriptures with her. Pam beamed as she gently rocked Molly and sang “Jesus Loves Me” to her. Both Bill and Pam just held her, kissing her face, holding her little hands and weeping as they said good bye.

As Molly was placed in my arms she felt so warm, just like every other newborn. I tried to sing to her and I doubt that she recognized “Jesus Loves Me” as I choked out the words through tears.

Jake who was video-taping, asked me, “Papa, why don’t you tell Molly a story…one of your ‘Speck People’ stories?” I have to tell you that ‘speck stories’ are adventure stories of tiny little people and equally tiny little creatures who live in a make believe microscopic world, facing any number of challenges that demand courage and faith. Our kids were enthralled with these tiny people stories and now I am telling them to my grandkids. The stories always take the Speck People to the very edge of danger…and then I close, by saying, “And you’ll have to wait until tomorrow night to hear the rest of the story.” My grandkids love these ‘continue’ stories. (honestly, I’m not all that good at it…I just make it all up as I go.)

So here’s Jake asking me to tell a story…and I respond to Jake, “You aren’t going to ask me to do that, after I’ve just blubbered my way through a simple song like “Jesus Loves Me”, are you?” Jake was joined by Rebecca in saying a resounding yes—they wouldn’t let me off the hook.

So Rebecca and Barbara surround me as I held little Molly, looked into her face and began my story. A Speck grandfather and his Speck granddaughter went fishing for tiny speck fish. My story was less than 60 seconds long and I looked up into Rebecca’s face and she had the biggest grin, dimples and all. She was loving the moment. As I concluded my story, I told Molly, “the Speck grandfather and granddaughter took their fish and ate them, and then they encountered something that you would never expect or believe…and… you will have to wait until I get to heaven to hear the rest of the story!” At this point I was sobbing, but I got the words out…and Rebecca and Jake started laughing. I will never forget the look pure joy on this young mom’s face.

Rebecca’s laughter has always been contagious and I too began to really laugh. One other detail of importance is that all of us had been gingerly holding Molly, afraid that the stress of handling her might be more than her little body could handle. Jake and I looked at the heart and oxygen monitor to see if our hearty laughter had stressed her system, but the opposite was happening—they were going up! Her oxygen saturation which had been at 80 shot up to 92, then 94, 97, 98, 99…we just kept laughing and her oxygen level went to 100 per cent, which it hadn’t been in 24 hours. All four of us cheered with raised arms like at a football game. It was a moment of sheer delight and mystery. A small thing, perhaps? Yes, no doubt. But in the valley of the shadow of death, God gave us laughter.

Christians are the ONLY people who can laugh in the midst of such a crisis without despair—we KNOW where we are headed. Heaven is certain because of what Jesus Christ did for us through His death for our sins. Because He lives we who believe have the hope of life after death. If a person places faith in Christ for forgiveness of his sins, surrenders his life to Him, then he can be certain of heaven too. It’s the ultimate reason why death is different for a true follower of Christ. And it’s why we could laugh as our beloved Molly was about to leave us.

Laughter stopped and the tears flowed again as I was told it was time for me to say good bye. Rebecca was now holding Molly. Barbara and I knelt beside her as I read her my good bye letter:

Mighty Molly

I just met you—I feel cheated.
I don’t want to say good bye.

I know I’ll likely see you in a couple of decades or so—in light of eternity, it won’t be long, really.
Still I don’t want to say good bye.

You will always be My Molly, my granddaughter.
I’m really sad that I won’t be getting to spoil you
with a doll,
or go sneak chocolate,
or take you on ice cream dates,
and eat chocolate pie and pudding.
Laughing all the time at what your mommy and daddy would say if they knew what we were doing.
I don’t want to say good bye.

Your 7 days sure brought a lot of joy to your mom and dad’s face—
I’ve watched them drink you in with their eyes, kiss you from head to foot, stroke and caress you.
Your parents loved you well—God couldn’t have given you better parents. Courageous parents.
They have loved you with a sacrificial love that only a very few little girls like you ever get to experience.
Because it hurts their hearts so much,
Oh, how I really don’t want to say good bye.

And so, Sweet Molly until that day in heaven
When we will celebrate the Greatness of our God together,
(then we will go sneak chocolate and go on an ice cream date)
I MUST say good bye.

Good bye Molly Ann.

I love you,
Papa

Molly Ann Mutz
June 13, 2008—June 19, 2008

We cannot Lord, Thy purpose see
But all is well that’s done by Thee.

Dennis
Psalm 112:1-2

The following is the first of a series of emails that I received from Dennis Rainey in June of this year. I share it with you because it is a great example of how a family deals with a heartbreaking situation with honesty and faith. I hope that as you read it you’ll be encouraged in whatever difficulties you may be facing.

As the sun is coming out here in Colorado, and The Son will soon be welcoming home Rebecca and Jakes daughter, Molly. A gift, entrusted to them for 7 days, to be ushered home, undoubtedly by a band of the gentlest and mighty angels dispatched from the throne of God to carry her into the presence of The Savior.

What has been tough, is about to get much tougher. Pray for Rebecca and Jake and forward this email to anyone you know who will pray for them.

Our days here have been so full of the presence of God. Honoring Him for Molly Ann.

Friday morning she was born… she didn’t cry for nearly 4’ because she was suffering from congestive heart failure. Her mom held her only for seconds before she was whisked away to be placed on life support. We think her problem is a heart murmur. Oh how I wish that was all she had. She is rushed by ambulance to The Children’s Hospital here in Aurora. We arrive that evening to hear Jake say she is going to need brain surgery. I am thinking…I wish it was a heart murmur.

Saturday was a day of testing, in more ways than one. She has x-rays, ultra-sound, and MRIs around 11. The radiologist makes a copy for Jake and me from her text book about the Vein of Galen. I go on line and find out that Molly is up against a serious abnormality in the middle of her brain that it is VERY rare and VERY destructive. Around 4 we are seated in a private room with a neurologist, cardiologist, neonatologist, and nurse giving us the news that over 50% of Molly’s brain is permanently damaged and that the damage affects both halves of the brain. 10-15-20 dangerous surgeries, she MIGHT be able to have A FEW functions as a human being. (Later I talk to a friend who has been a neurologist for 30 years and he puts it in perspective—“In cases like Molly where there is so much brain damage, I have never seen a good outcome through surgery.” Never is a strong word. Yet we hope and pray for a miracle…even today) It is as though this young couple have been hit by a truck, news beyond comprehension. Joy turns to mourning.

In other words, it would take a miracle for Molly to live.

Sunday Jake’s parents, Bill and Pam Mutz, arrive along with some of their family. Laura flies in from DC, Samuel and Stephanie and their three children fly in from Seattle, Ashley flies in from Memphis where she was on vacation with her husband and 5 sons and Ben and Marsha Kay come to the hospital. Rebecca and Jake want to introduce their new daughter to each family member. Many come and kneel at Rebecca’s feet and just sob. When a family is being a family it is powerful. Worshipful. God honoring.

Jake and Rebecca spend a good bit of Sunday and Monday praying, talking, seeking second opinions trying to decide what is God’s will for Molly…what is the loving thing to do?

Monday we surround Molly and have a baby dedication, read Scripture, pray and sing a couple of songs. More than a dozen of us weep our way through the familiar hymn:

Turn your eyes upon Jesus.
Look full in His wonderful face.
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim,
In the light of His glory and grace.

Again many of us kneel at Rebecca’s feet as she hold’s little Molly in her arms teethered to life support tubes.

Monday night Bill and Pam Mutz and Barbara and I witness the unimaginable…we sit in a hospital room as Jake hold’s Molly…listening for over 2 hours as Jake and Rebecca process their choices. God is God, but it’s impossible to NOT feel, this just shouldn’t be. What a choice for a young couple to have to make. They decide to not pursue the several very dangerous and complex brain surgeries and remove life support later in the week.

Tuesday, honestly, I don’t know what happened to Tuesday. But I do know that if love could heal, Molly would be well. Instead, we can all see Molly’s little chest pounding, her heart beating faster and faster, trying to keep up with what she needs to live. 60-80% of her blood is going to her brain when it should be 10-15%.

I do know that Wednesday was an incredible day. Videoing, picture taking, making a mold of Molly’s hands, Rebecca and Jake holding Molly still teethered by life support tubes. Rebecca and the mom’s giving Molly her first, and only bath, washing her hair. Stroking her little naked body. This is not what this young mother expected. Doing footprints and hand prints. Ask me to show you my bible and I’ll show you her footprints all over Psalm 127 and 128…and her handprint on my life verse, Psalm 112:1-2…Her life may have been short in terms of days, but her life has been mighty. Mighty Molly Mutz.

Wednesday closed out with this email at midnight from Jake, on the close of the last full day that Molly will likely live:

I just got done holding Molly chest-to-chest for the last 3.5 hours! Heavenly! I could feel her beating heart on my bare chest! 2569 kisses later I relinquished her to Mom.

She is an Angel!!!!

Now Rebecca is experiencing this delight! I just looked over at Bec & she nodded, as if to say – I WILL be sleeping here with my Sweet Pea for the next 12 hours!

We love you guys!
Jake & Rebecca

And now today. Molly’s coronation day. Read Ecclesiastes 7:1-4. This morning we will all say goodby one by one and then leave Rebecca and Jake to spend the afternoon with her. She is expected to live only a few minutes after being taken off all life support machines later on this afternoon.

Pray for Jake and Rebecca today.
And for the Mutz family and ours.
Our hearts are breaking.

You are loved and appreciated,
Molly’s Papa
Ps 112:1-2