Two weeks ago today marks the beginning of the fight of our lives. Jace Anthony Kaufman entered this world to change ours forever. As we started the battles, calling all of you to join our fight, we felt honored and incredibly loved by all the support we received. Little would we have suspected when we discovered the existence of our little boy nine months ago, the overwhelming impact he would have, not just on our life but all of yours as well. You all rallied to the fight on your knees before our Heavenly Father and put up your fists alongside us. With your prayers alongside ours, we plunged into #BattleKidneyFunction, #BattleSeizures, #BattleMedicalTeam, #BattleWarmingProcess, #BattleBrainFunction, and #BattleMRI. Some battles we won, some were stalemated, and some we lost. But the most important battle, #BattleMRI was the final and most climatic. Jace's MRI determined the entire outcome of the war for his life. 

For four long days we waited and prayed and held on to our little boy. Monday, July 6, 2020 came as a warm summer day. The sun was barely peaking over the hills surrounding Boise as I walked the hallway to Jace's room for one last squeeze of his tiny hand before the nurses started the process of transporting him to radiology. Cole was already there, having spent half the night sleeping in the chair next to Jace's bed. My beautiful little boy looked so peaceful as he lay there pink and wrinkled after the warming process. I took his hand in mine and felt the ever so slight squeeze as his fingers wrapped around my finger. My heart was happy as the night nurse informed me of the progress made in the night. The warming process had went well with his kidneys kicking back into gear as we had hoped. The seizures had continued but did not appear to be worsening. I was elated when the nurses asked me to help change his diaper and swab his little mouth with milk. I never knew that a diaper full of urine could give me so much joy, but in that moment I was overflowing with the thankfulness for the battle won. 

Cole awoke from his slumber as the assisting nurses came in to start the process of moving our little man. We watched the hour long process of unhooking him from his tubes and wires and moving him to the portable machines that were safe for use in the MRI. His little body was surrounded by scrub clad adults as they carefully maneuvered him into the hallway. We followed along as far as we were allowed to go and, with strength not our own, whispered our goodbyes. The hour we waited for him to return, the moment we once again held his little hands while we waited for results, and the sight of the doctor and neurologist coming in to share the verdict was the longest I have ever experienced. But

I was at peace as the doctors came in. I was at peace as we looked at the screen and saw the severity of brain damage and the hemorrhage we had no idea about before. I was at peace as the doctors declared no hope outside of a miracle, and I was at peace as I looked into my little boy's face and knew that this was goodbye.

Some might say that we lost the war. Some might say God did not perform a miracle. Some might say God was not listening to the multitude of prayers but I don’t believe those lies.

I believe our God is Sovereign and that in His great wisdom He already had a plan for our little Jace. From the moment He fashioned each part of his body in my womb, God knew Jace's allotted time on this earth would be four days. And somehow, in four days, I believe Jace touched more hearts for God than he would have in a full lifetime. So some may say we lost the war, but I believe Jace won #BattleMRI. He won eternity where he can ride horses more cowy than any we could have given him here on earth. He is roping calves and gathering the herds of Heaven with the most amazing Cow Boss a little boy could ask for. I’m sure he has his very own cow dog that rides by his side looking for strays in the far reaches of glory.

It does not change the hurt in this mama’s heart. It does not lessen the pain of knowing I will never hear my little boy’s cry or hold him in my arms. It does not ease the sorrow on my husband’s face as he watched his dreams of a child of his own to teach and raise fade away. But we cling to the knowledge that we got to experience the best worst four days of our life with the cutest little boy that ever existed and know that he truly was perfect. 

In all of our battle plans and objectives for war, there was one thing that we prayed for most. We prayed that we might bring our little boy home. Home to our house in Unity where we had so many hopes and dreams. A little less than a week after we gave Jace our final kiss and hugged his little body one last time at the hospital, God answered that prayer. The memorial service was last Saturday morning on a hill top overlooking the Burnt River Valley. As Pastor Ryan spoke of Jace’s short but amazing mission here on earth, I looked out over the valley of sagebrush covered hills, green pastures, and oh so many cows, my heart was sad at the thought that Jace never got to experience life in this place. As we drove down the mountain to have lunch surrounded by family and friends, I was sad that Jace never got to meet all these amazing people. Afternoon turned to evening and the time for going to the cemetery drew near. My heart was heavy as I felt unprepared for the final goodbye. How could I lay to rest my little child when I never got to experience life with him? How could we quit before we even began? I was trying not to think about all of this as I stood chatting with friends. A tap on my shoulder alerted me to the arrival of Jamin and Kara Mohler, our good friends that had graciously taken on the task of transporting our little boy from Boise to Unity. My heart sank, knowing what came next. But to my surprise, I heard Jamin asking if we would like to see Jace one last time. With delight, we asked if we could take him home. Could we hold him just one time in our house and share our life with him for just a moment? The feelings now in my heart were bittersweet as we sat on our couch and held our baby one last time. We gazed into his perfect little face and squeezed his tiny little hands as we held him close. We could now lay him to rest on a sagebrush covered hill overlooking the valley and know that God honored our prayers yet again as for a short moment, we got to take our little boy home.

Our human perspective says we lost the war. We don’t get to experience life on earth with Jace but if we have learned nothing else from his short stay with us, it is that we should never give up fighting. The war has only begun and our rallying battle cry has become not to #Fight4Jace but to #FightLikeJace. To fight like Jace is learning to pray again. To fight like Jace is uniting our community. To fight like Jace is reaching out to the brokenhearted and surrounding them with love. To fight like Jace is to never give up hope in the God of miracles. To fight like Jace is to trust that even in the most hopeless of situations, God has a greater plan that we may never understand this side of heaven.

So once again, we are calling on our fellow warriors in this war. Please join us as we go forward, learning to #FightLikeJace until the day we join him on the Great Ranch of Heaven and stand before the Cow Boss and hear Him say, “Well done, my good and faithful servant.”