Now when Jesus returned, the crowd welcomed him, for they were all waiting for him. And there came a man named Jairus, who was a ruler of the synagogue; and falling at Jesus' feet he besought him to come to his house, for he had an only daughter, about twelve years of age, and she was dying.
While he was still speaking, a man from the ruler's house came and said, "Your daughter is dead; do not trouble the Teacher any more." But Jesus on hearing this answered him, "Do not fear; only believe, and she shall be well." And when he came to the house, he permitted no one to enter with him, except Peter and John and James, and the father and mother of the child. And all were weeping and bewailing her; but he said, "Do not weep; for she is not dead but sleeping." And they laughed at him, knowing that she was dead. But taking her by the hand he called, saying, "Child, arise." And her spirit returned, and she got up at once; and he directed that something should be given her to eat. And her parents were amazed; but he charged them to tell no one what had happened.
Luke 8:40–42, 49–56 (RSV)
We have a rule in our home, it applied to our children, and now applies to our grandchildren: "There is no jumping on the beds." There are no circumstances in which it is allowed. There is no celebration marvelous enough for this rule to be suspended. We would have written it on the stone tablets Moses brought down from Sinai if we had the opportunity.
We had just moved to Williams, IA to St. Paul Lutheran Church in the early Fall of 1979. Our twins were not quite two years old. We loved the small town. We love the fact that Jackie's folks were only twenty minutes down the road. We were glad to be back in Iowa.
I can't quite remember the phone call. One would think that it would be seared into my memory, but I can't recall it. I remember the drive to Des Moines to the Children's Hospital, where I met the family for the first time.
Little Brenda had been jumping on the bed, goofing with her older brother, when she fell, striking her head on the dresser. Her parents could not wake her, a panicked call for the ambulance, and a high-speed trip to Des Moines. Brenda was only a few days older than our girls.
She never regained consciousness. They made the heart-wrenching decision to turn off life support. I held my girls close that night, tears streaming down my cheeks. What could I begin to say to a mother and father whose little girl we would bury less than a week after she fell?
Jairus and his wife would know what Brenda's parents knew. The heartache that no words can describe the pain they shared. They felt their world shrink the moment death came for their daughter.
Jesus has raised them both. Jairus' daughter for a time, until she would know death once again, and Brenda, through her baptism into His death and resurrection. It was the hope that her parents clung to as they let their little girl go.
Brenda sleeps, as did Jairus' daughter until Jesus says to them both: 'Talitha cumi, Little Girl, Arise."