On October 24, 2007 Amber, Anna and I went to Amber's eighth month pregnancy checkup. After the sonographer quietly performed the ultrasound, she excused herself and left the room. Amber and I sat there and waited, worried yet hopeful. After a very long ten minutes, the doctor enters. He turns to us, obviously uncomfortable, and breaks the bad news to us. Our son no longer had a heart beat. It is pointless for me to explain the cascade of emotions that rushed over us upon hearing that news. It was just two days before that we had felt our little man kick our hands while dancing in the womb. And it was at this cider mill, the Louisburg Cider Mill, that we had spent that last moment with our son, Hosanna. I can still remember the exact spot where I was sitting when I felt him kick that last kick and I doubt that I will ever lose the vividness of that memory. Well, one year later exactly, on October 24th 2008, Micaiah Rich was born. He was born on the exact same date that we found out that our son had died. We felt as though the Lord meant it as a sign to us, that out of death, He brings life. Ever since then, we have made it a family tradition to visit this pumpkin patch during Micaiah's birthday weekend, to commemorate God's gift to us. The fall harvest is a constant reminder to me that the approaching winter shall not endure and that its death is not the end. Rather, it is only the forerunner of Spring's new life and a guarantee of the harvest that shall come in the fall.
