Dear Baby Steve

Born into this earth as the son of a prostitute, you had no home. Mother and son, displaced and alone with only each other. You were born with a disease by no fault of your own. She tried her best to take care of you, I believe. You were so tiny, at three months old just the size of a newborn. It was not easy, that life of yours. Your mama struggled just to feed you while moving from house to house staying with anyone who would open their doors.  I cried the first time I held you because I knew. I knew that your life would never be easy. 

With mere human perspective, I could say you were taken far too soon.  You were not honored by man in your lifetime, and you will be remembered by few. But tonight, I reflect and in my moment of sadness I find comfort because I know:

He had a humble beginning, too, much like you. Born in a stable in a hog trough surrounded by animals.  His entry into this world was meticulously planned by His father.  He did that for you, dear Steve. He came humbly as a baby because of His great love for you.  He knew when you would be born, the number of hairs on your head, and the number of days you would have on this earth. He knew, precious one, that for you to have eternity with Him, He must come and die just as He did.  Here, you were the least of these in the dregs of society. In His kingdom, you are crowned with royalty. Tonight you are in a seat of honor worshiping with the angels singing: holy, holy, holy.  You were loved beyond measure, and loved you will be for eternity.