January Prayer Letter

Where is Kyle?

Three little words. Three little words that I will remember for the rest of my life, just hours removed from the most devastating moment of my life, just hours removed from holding my precious little girl in my arms, just hours removed from being told she is gone. These three words will forever be etched in my mind. Where is Kylie?

We returned from the hospital that day, not with a congratulatory parade of friends and family, but to a home that would never feel the same. As I cracked open the front door, I quickly raced into our home before my wife. I searched desperately for anything that would have brought to mind the trauma my wife had endured over the last six hours: a crib to be, a stray outfit tucked into the corner, and a new pacifier on the kitchen counter. “Everything needed to be perfect,” I thought, as my wife passively closed the door and entered our home, shell shocked and broken with a feeling of emptiness that filled the room behind her. Was this a bad dream? Was this real? Surely I would be waking up any second, surely.

Quickly, I came back to reality and called for our boys from the other room, “Landon! Ryan! Mommy and Daddy are home!” Wow, how I love to hear that sound, the quick pitter patter of joyous feet rhythmically tapping against the wood steps. “Mama! Dada!” they both exclaimed. Their words were literally music to my ears. I watched them both closely as they made their way down to us, my eyes catching more detail than I ever had before. Ryan, as usual, completely disheveled from a long, hard day of play, covered in a layer of only who knows what, smelling of 100 percent boy. And then Landon, Oh, Landon. His usual cat noises seem to be the song of his heart no matter how hard I try to stop them. He methodically took each step toward us as he cleaned off his favorite toy, my little OCD boy. Both were so happy to see their family arrive back home, and in that moment when I looked at my wife, the emptiness began to fade. The brokenness felt somewhat restored. Our two little amazing gifts from God lit up the room as if it were day again, and things felt better. We had a second of relief, a second of normalcy, a second of hope. I began to drift off once again and think, “Is this it? Is the brokenness resolved?” Then somewhat angrily, I questioned myself, “Will my little girl be forgotten in an instant?” It was in that moment that my ridiculous thoughts were interrupted; it was in that moment it happened that the three words that will forever be engrained into my mind were voiced. That’s when my little Landon began to pay more attention to the absent bump his mommy had so proudly named over the last nine months; that’s when my little boy of four years old asked the question everyone else was thinking, “Where is Kylie?”

Where is Kylie? The more I meditate on these three words, the more I understand my little girl’s story, her purpose. To the world, those words bring a curdling fear. They are the words that wake you up as you realize that you don’t know where your Kylie is—your Bryan, your Luke, your Uncle Steven, or your grandma Mary. Those words bring the deafening reminder that your loved one is gone, and they are gone forever; but as a child of God, those three words bring hope, hope of tomorrow, and hope of days to come! As a child of God, there is peace in the answer to this question, “Where is Kylie?” She is in the arms of her Creator, and no matter how impossible it might feel, she is with the only One that loves her more than I do. Today, we can move forward, not because she is forgotten or unloved, but because we have hope in our future. As Christians, we have faith in our Savior. When my Landon asks that simple question, “Where is Kylie?” we can wipe away the tears and say, “Kylie is not here, and she will not be coming home with us like we planned, but you will meet her one day, at the feet of Jesus.”

Thirty minutes. That is all the time she had here on earth. Our Kylie Grace had a severe congenital heart defect that was not seen on any of her ultrasounds, and after thirty minutes of fighting, her little heart gave out, but as I knelt there at my daughter’s grave, a place I never thought I would be, I know she now has a brand new heart. Through the tears clouding my vision, I am reminded not only of my purpose here in Peru but also of Kylie’s purpose. Through the tears, I see Kike and his family; I see a family who came with us to church for the first time just last week; I see a whole line of young men from the soccer fields; I see the two young men who are going to start in the seminary next month; and I see our Omega Baptist Church family. Through the tears, I see what God has done through our family so far, and I know He is far from done from using our family here in Peru.

Your Missionaries to Peru, Mitch, Jacqulyn, Landon, and Ryan McCormack

Prayer Requests

Please be praying for peace and comfort for our family during this time.
Please be praying for the several families who are unsaved and got to hear the Gospel at our little girl’s funeral.