The Story of Elijah

On November 3, 2003, at 7:32 pm, Elijah Amos Covak came into the world. He weighed 9 pounds, 9 ounces (and was even a skosh early, mind you) and measured 21 1/2" long. His name means "Jehovah is God" and "I was borne and carried." He is Craig's first born son. And he looks just like his father. Yes, JUST like him. There is a story behind that, too.
Grace was not yet 2, and I was having a conversation with Craig's grandmother at a kitchen table. Her only son, Larry (Craig's dad), passed away from cancer at age 48. Her husband also died - also from cancer - just about a year before that. Can you imagine? Talk about left in the world without the men God gave you...
Well, she commented that each one of her three grandsons reminded her in some way of her departed son, and she treasured every one. But, she said, her eyes brimming with tears, there were certain ways that Craig made her feel like her son still walked amongst us. "Why is that?" I asked, curiosity certainly peaked. "Because," she retold, "he IS his father in the soft tone of his voice, in how he half smiles like only he knows a secret...even in the way he holds his fork. I can close my eyes, and there is my son, alive in my grandson...a gift from God above."
This story had great impact on me in many, many ways. But, particularly, I felt it emblazen an imprint on my very soul about my own yet-to-be-born son. I knew I wanted that same story, if for no other reason than because I wanted to know that, somewhere, a son born to Craig by my body would walk the Earth long after he departs it...and that son would leave some indelible mark behind.
So, when we became pregnant with our second child, I related this story again to Craig and told him I was going to pray for a son. I told him I would ask God for a son with blond curly hair. I would ask Him to form this son with Craig's eyes, nose, and mouth. I requested that He create this child to appear so much in the image of his father that people would even remark on the likeness of their hands. But nine long months passed before I could see if God answered my prayers.
Since we don't find out who we're having (nope, not for any of them), we held our breaths as the final portion of the C-section was performed (yes, C-section. That's a story for another entry). And Dr. Weary - who knew this story and so was as anxious as us to discover what God had done - held our baby up and announced, "You guys, it's a BOY!" And Craig kissed my forehead and stood to meet his first-born Covak son. He stepped away from my view to cut the cord and then to wash Elijah and note all the important measuring, washing, and inspecting. As Dr. Weary stapled away, Craig returned, then, to my side and leaned down close, pulled away his mask and whispered, "He looks just like me." And I cried.
I knew that God, in the midst of war and famine and genocide and lack of pretty much everything in this world, had first heard and then ordered those prayers to come to pass. Of all the singular moments in my life, NEVER do I remember feeling God make me feel so implicitly, devastatingly, uniquely important to Him.
And I got that son for whom I prayed.
And years later, on a dark night, alone in our bed while my children slept next to me, I held Elijah's 4-yr-old hand. Craig was in the hospital in a critical state, and we didn't know if he would live or die. But I held that hand, and I remembered this story, and I looked down at my son's hand and saw a miniature of my husband's. For the first time, perhaps, I truly understood the importance of Helen's story. And I was comforted. God reminded me, sure and strong, that my first gift was indeed my son's father, for whom I never even knew how to pray...I just knew I wanted him.
So every November 3rd, I remember that story, and I tell it to my son. And I remind him that he was borne and carried, and that I am proud to have done this for this precious son.

And I point to his heart, and I say, "You must leave a mark, my son. Let that mark be your namesake: let it be that you tell the world, 'Jehovah is God.'"