Praising God With Every Trembling Breath

By Alexander Dubois

Published September 5, 2024

I can still vividly remember walking into my bedroom to find a green sign that read, “Ready for three 3 + under?” This was my wife’s way of surprising me with the incredible news that God had blessed us with a third child. Six months later, sweat would be pouring over our faces as we stood in the blazing sun to watch our son’s body lowered into the earth in an 18-inch casket. That very morning, Pastor Matt had preached a message from John 11 that brought such comfort to our souls, but there’s truly nothing that can prepare you to carry your son’s lifeless body across a graveyard for burial. Even though he weighed less than three pounds when he died, his body felt heavy in my arms. Every step in that situation is a dreadful one. Every breath, a trembling one.

On June 14, we rushed Alaina (my wife) to the hospital, concerned she was having contractions even though we were only at the 24-week mark of the pregnancy. Canon Timothy Dubois, our little miracle, was born just three days later. Alaina and I were warned in intimate detail about what to expect should our fears come true and Canon be born prematurely. One concern was that Canon’s lungs would be dangerously underdeveloped. He would not be able to breathe on his own, needing to be intubated immediately at birth to give him a fighting chance at life.

Despite all this, by God’s grace, Canon entered the world, crying within seconds of his birth. There are few times a parent wants their child to cry, but the first few moments after birth is one of those times because it demonstrates a set of working lungs. Canon had defied the odds right away and was breathing largely on his own. He was described by nurses on the floor as a miracle and as the healthiest 25-week-old they had ever seen. Amid such great news, however, everyone still told us that the journey in the NICU for a micro-preemie is a rollercoaster for even the healthiest of babies. And they were right.

The unfortunate reality of Canon’s life is that he spent a large portion of it sick. Within a week of his birth, he developed an infection – something that is common for micro-preemies in the NICU. Alaina and I distinctly remember the knives being thrust into our hearts as we were told to have the conversation on whether we would want the nurses to try to resuscitate him if he were to stop breathing. Yet, even in this moment, Canon was doing something miraculous. A lot of babies with his rate of infection would stop moving altogether, but Canon never stopped punching. Though his hand was smaller than the average rock, he clenched it into a fist and defiantly raised it into the air repeatedly. This showed us he had a fight in him, which was disproportionate to his 1-pound, 13-ounce frame.

Even at his healthiest state, if the nurses came into the room to move him even a tiny bit and he was already comfortable, he would let the nurses have it until they moved him back to where he was before. The nurses did this with a smile on their faces, seeing the same tenacity within him that we were witnessing. It was this tenacity that aided him, by God’s grace, to overcome two infections before ultimately succumbing to the third.

Canon was not always in a scrappy mood. There was a wonder in his dark eyes. He loved hearing his father read to him from the Holy Scriptures, and his mother read to him from a compilation of notes from friends and family. To tell you the truth, though, Canon was happiest when his mama would hold him. In the transfer from the bed to Alaina, he would let the nurses know he was not very happy to have been moved, but that crying would end the second his mother embraced him. He would snuggle up close to her, wrap his tiny hand around her finger, and sleep peacefully to the sound of his favorite person’s heartbeat.

On July 23, we were told that his health was in a great spot. Then, on July 26, we held him for the last time on this side of eternity after almost six weeks of a long and difficult fight. With shattered hearts, we turned to the only place we could in the worst trial of our lives: to God. In the days following Canon’s death, we found great comfort in reflections upon our Great High Priest, Jesus, who sympathizes with us in our weakness (Hebrews 4:15-16).

The Scriptures are clear that Jesus is fully man and fully God (John 1:1-5; 14). And yet, we see through the course of Jesus’ life, such incredible instances of humbleness, including submitting to His earthly parents (Luke 2:41-51), being wearied by the elements He created (John 4:6), and taking on a servant’s form to die upon a cross (Philippians 2:5-11).

One instance of Christ’s humility, and how low He stooped to save His people, is found in John 11:35: “Jesus wept.” These two words from John’s Gospel are staggering in the depiction of our Savior’s heart. Again, Jesus is the God Man, the Holy One of God, King of kings and Lord of lords – and yet His face at this moment was wet by His own tears. Through His sovereignty, He knew that Lazarus’ death was coming, and that He would raise Lazarus from his tomb to drive home the point that He is the resurrection and the life. He knows all things – and yet He wept when confronted with the despair of His beloved image bearers as He stared down that ancient and ever-present enemy, death.

Jesus wept to the glory of God. And it has been our calling to do the same in grieving the loss of our precious Canon – what a humbling and hard privilege it is to be conformed into the image of Christ in this way.

I don’t know why Canon had to pass, and I am not entitled to know. But I do know that it was out of love for Lazarus and his sisters that Christ did not come immediately upon hearing of Lazarus’ condition (John 11:5-6). I do know God works all things for good for those who love Him and are called according to His purpose (Romans 8:28). I do know the dead will be raised (1 Corinthians 15). I do know death itself will be finally and ultimately destroyed under Christ’s feet (1 Corinthians 15:26-27). And I do know the worst thing to ever happen on this earth, man’s chiefest evil, the crucifixion of Jesus Christ, has led to the most good in the redemption of God’s people (2 Corinthians 5:21). If we can trust God with all that, we can trust Him with this trial and affliction, though it is crushing. We can trust and praise Him with every trembling breath.

“The LORD gave and the LORD has taken away. Blessed be the name of the LORD.” (Job 1:21, NASB1995)