THE GIFT OF THE LITTLE WOODEN BOX

THE GIFT OF THE LITTLE WOODEN BOX By Bonnie Johnson

Bonnie Jean Johnson 1992 Copywrite You may copy this free.. please do not sell…… copys are free..

Dedicated to my Youngest Children

5 1/2 mo. Sandi Dawn July 6, 1971
3 1/2 mo. Sugar Gabrial Jan. 4, 1981
3 1/2 mo. Nathanial Gabrial Oct. 11, 1991

Autopsy Experiments are unnecessary most of the time, (Cause unknown).
Terms like Spontaneous Abortion and Incomplete Abortion, are cruel to miscarrying mothers.
We love our babies.
Help me change the Law.

I could not even get a Death Certificate or Fetal Death Certificate under 20 weeks.
The Law is 21 years old. . .
Or older.
They stand-still while the Doctors & Law do as they please
with our son’s and daughter’s bodies,
It has to stop.

Twenty-one years ago, I miscarried my first child.
Two hours you were attached to me by an umbilical cord.

I touched your legs, your feet and hands. I counted each finger and toe, and
No one understands.

The records say 14 weeks. They have made a mistake.
We can’t go back they said.
5 1/2 months you are. . .You’re much too big.
They have lost the report. Only with a placenta they Judge your size. . .
They weren’t looking at your eyes.
Like your sister’s eyes, they’re blue. . .
You were twice the size of your brother & sister
that share this stone with you.

Pink tissue?. . .They lie.
What they say is untrue.
I can’t get a death certificate for you.
They said if it would happen Today, I would be entitled to it.
But now? No.
Not today. . .
Because they took my child away.

They took you, wouldn’t give you back.
How cruel they were that day.
I begged them please, let me take her home.
But they just ignored me.

Her name was Sandi Dawn
I named her anyway. . .
I loved my child & little girl.
Why would they take her away?!

In 1981 little Sugar would die.
They put him on a shelf in a cup,
and then they worked on me.
I asked them, please. . .
Let me take him home.
But again he was taken from me,
and I went home alone again.
They wrote “Pink tissue,”
But before I left for home
I saw the little legs. . .
four inches long,
To my surprise.
Oh God, What was I seeing
With my eyes.
A child they would not let me see.
Oh how I longed to hold my son to my side.
This little one was not tissue, That’s very cruel to say,
If it were not true, Why did you whisk him away?

In 1991 and Winter filled the air,
I would miscarry another child.

Oh, Lord, please Hold my hand.
Why me, Lord?
I do not understand.
Please tell me how to handle this.
I love my child so much.
Please strengthen me.
And let me stand.

They want to take this one, Lord,
Not it you hold my Hand.

To my son, I say this,
I will prove to them this day, there will no autopsy
And they will not take you away.
The nurse came in and asked the Doctor,
“Will an autopsy be done?”
I looked at her. . .And said, “Listen here.
Miss, there will be none done,” I told her.
She looked at me. . .I looked at him.
The Dr. said okay, Write “Johnson Fetus” on the Child
And take him to the Lab.
The child will go with Mom.
My child’s body safe at last.

I hemorrhaged. . .And I had to stay in the hospital several days,
Transfusions were mentioned, so I called our church to pray.

Oh God, I prayed.
Please stop the leak,
I need to go my way.
A son I have to tend to.

They ask me can we bring him to you? I said no, “We’ll pick hm up on our way.”
Please take me to the lab. . .To pick up my son.
We are going home today.
For the first time in twenty-one years
We are headed Home.
I made the lab okay, But the next step unprepared.
They laid a carefully little taped box into my waiting arms. . .
I hung my head and cried.

Oh God, Give me strength today.
I hung my head and cried awhile.
A victory after so long.
God had answered a prayer of mine.

Wanda, the nurse, and a friend of mine,
Held me ever so tightly and said go ahead and cry.
Finally, I wiped away the tears.
They were not tears of anger, but of Mother’s love.
Wanda, Let’s go home, I said.
As she wheeled me through the door, and I put my son back on my lap.
Son we’re going home. . .

The little drawer made of oak in a cabinet shop
First tossed aside beneath a bench
would someone stop and see. . .
A little remodeling
not once, but twice.

The cabinet maker knew his wood, He cut with precision.
Like he had been doing all his life.

The first thing he ever made in his new shop
was a coffin for a child.
So God knew who to send me to in my hour of need
I suppose you know the rest, he gave it to me free.

Your little clothes, they were ever so small.
I had only seen you once, So God only would know your size.
I asked him. . .What goes where?
And to my surprise, you fit right in.
Those little feet I tucked in, and pulled the double string
I thought to myself, now he’s warm. . .
The precious little thing.

The little diaper. . .
I must talk to them about the size of those gold safety pins.
A little large they were for you. . .
So a little stitch would solve that too.

The storms raged that day.
I rebuked the wind in Jesus’ name.
Above us and the cemetery, the wind grew still.
We must say Goodbye today.
I know it is the time, to put my son to rest,
So he could sleep a while. . .until the time for Christ.

As eleven of us laid my son to rest, Wendi said, mom look up. . .
It was hard for me when I did.
Thousands of little peach clouds came over us to rest.
No more beautiful, I had ever seen.
I knew in my heart right then that God was pleased.
We buried him beneath that cedar tree.

Oh yes, some ask. . .
How could you do this thing?
I tell them just like I’m telling you. . .
I am a very proud mother
and this child is my son.
The stone, it speaks for itself. . .
The Gift of the Little Wooden Box.”

This also was the thing I had waited for,
for twenty-one years. . .
unable to put their flowers anywhere.

Dear God, now I understand. . .
If I will only hold your hand, You’ll lead me and my children to a safe place with You.

No more pain.
And no more tears.
A day when the little child will play
with a Lion with a very large purr and no one on this earth will ever hurt her… A little boy will walk To ask the questions,now grown dim….. “Pick up your cross and follow me… That’s what He would say to him. .
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THIS POEM WAS ORIGIONALY PRINTED FOR MOTHERS WHO MISCARRY THEIR BABYS, THE BABYS SHOULD BE BARRIED..THE SCIENTISTS WANT THESE BABYS TO PRACTICE ON TO NOW AND ITS WRONG…. STEM CELL AND ABORTION ARE MURDER GOD HELP THEM FOR THEY KNOW NOT WHAT THEY DO…. IN THE NAME OF JESUS CHRIST .. KING OF KINGS

Article Source: http://www.faithwriters.com CHRISTIAN WRITERS




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