I heard a story on Dr. James Dobson’s radio program while driving to the airport. I had to go and catch the plane, but I couldn’t get myself out of the car until the letter was finished. I believe this letter will touch your heart as it did mine. God bless you and know that God loves you – no matter what we are facing in life, God is more than enough to carry us through.

Here is the letter.

My dear Bristol,
Before you were born I prayed for you. In my heart I knew you would be a little angel, and so you were. When you were born on my birthday, April 7th, it was evident that you were a special gift from the Lord. But, how profound a gift you turned out to be – more than the beautiful bundle of gurgles and rosy cheeks, more than the first born of my flesh – a joy unspeakable.

You showed me God’s love more than anything else in all God’s creation. Bristol, you taught me how to love. I certainly loved you when you were cuddly and cute – when you rolled over and sat up and jabbered your first words. I loved you when the searing pain of the realization took hold that something was wrong. That maybe you were not developing as quickly as your peers. And then when we understood it was more serious than that, I loved you when we went from hospital to clinic to doctor, looking for a medical diagnosis that would bring us some hope.

And of course we always prayed for you – and prayed and prayed. I loved you when one of the test resulted in too much spinal fluid being drawn from your body, and you screamed. I loved you when you moaned and cried, when your mom, I, and your sisters would drive for hours late at night to help you fall asleep. I loved you with tears in my eyes when you were confused, you would bite your fingers or your lip by accident, and when your eyes crossed and then went blind.

I most certainly loved you when you could no longer speak. But how profoundly I missed your voice. I loved you when your scoliosis started wrenching your body like a pretzel and we put a tube in your stomach so you could eat because you were choking on your food which we fed you one spoon-fill at a time for up to two hours per meal. I managed to love you when your contorted limbs would not allow ease of changing messy diapers. So many diapers. Ten years of diapers.

Bristol, I even loved you when you could not say the one thing in life that I longed to hear back – Daddy.  I love you.

Bristol, I loved you when I was close to God and when He seemed far away. When I was full of faith and also when I was angry at Him. And the reason I loved you, my Bristol, in spite of these difficulties is that God put this love in my heart.

This is the wondrous nature of God’s love – that He loves us even when we’re blind, or deaf, or twisted in body or spirit. God loves us when we can’t tell Him back that we love Him.

My dear Bristol, now you are free. I look forward to that day according to God’s promises when we will be joined together with you and with the Lord, completely whole and full of joy. I’m so happy that you have your crown first. We will follow you someday – In His time.

Before you were born, I prayed for you.  In my heart I knew you would be a little angel. And so you are.

Love,
Daddy

First, Happy New Year! Here’s a perspective to consider as we live into 2026.

Pastor Andy Stanley tells the following story:

Sometimes I just want it to stop. Talk of COVID, looting, brutality. I lose my way. I become convinced that this “new normal” is real life.

Then I meet an 87-year-old who talks about living through Polio, Diphtheria, Vietnam protests and yet is still enchanted with life. 

He seemed surprised when I said 2020 must be especially challenging for him.

“No,” he said slowly, looking me straight in the eyes. “I learned a long time ago not to see the world through printed headlines. I see the world through the people that surround me. I see the world with the realization that we love big. Therefore, I just choose to write my own headlines:

• Husband loves wife today
• Family drops everything to come to grandma’s bedside
• He patted my hand…”Old man makes a new friend.”

His words collide with my worries, freeing them from the tether I had been holding tight. They float away. I am left with a renewed spirit and a new way to write my own headlines. 

The late Pastor John Piper once spoke to a group of young people.

Three weeks ago, we got news at our church that Ruby Eliason and Laura Edwards were killed in Cameroon.

Ruby Eliason – over 80, single all her life, a nurse., poured her life out for one thing: to make Jesus Christ known among the sick and the poor in the hardest most unreached places. 

Laura Edwards, a medical doctor in the Twin Cities, and in her retirement, partnering up with Ruby.

Both pushing 80, and going from village to village in Cameroon. One day, the brakes gave way, over a cliff they go, and they’re dead instantly. And I asked my people, “Is this a tragedy?”

Two women, almost in their eighties, a whole life devoted to one idea – Jesus Christ magnified among the poor and the sick in the hardest places. And twenty years after most of their American counterparts had begun to throw their lives away on trivialities in Florida and New Mexico, they fly into eternity with a death in a moment. “Is this a tragedy?”

The crowd of forty thousand high school and college students sat in stunned silence.

I will tell you what a tragedy is. I will show you how to waste your life. Consider this story from the February 1998 Reader’s Digest: A couple “took early retirement from their jobs in the Northeast five years ago when he was 59 and she was 51. Now they live in Punta Gorda, Florida, where they cruise on the 30-foot-trawler, play softball and collect shells…”

Picture them before Christ at the great day of judgment: “Look, Lord. See my shells.” 

That is a tragedy!