Yet even now, I was
desperately- almost frantically trying to run from the pain of another heart
break. I wanted to not feel the ache so
deeply. Once again, I had no control of
the moment, only my response to it. It
was not the loss of my child, but it was the loss of a dream for my child. Why could I in one instance consciously
choose to 'turn' and face the pain- yet in this moment, flail miserably trying
to avoid it?
The decision 6 years
earlier, I had shared with only a
few. For me it held great depth of
emotion and angst, and yet peace. Would
I be willing to submit myself to that level of intentionality again?
Just a couple of
weeks after our daughter, Leisha, had died, a pastor friend sent us a book that
I already had on my shelves. I had heard
Jerry Sittser, the author, speak years earlier, which was just 3 years after he
had experienced the loss of his wife, his mother and his 4 year old daughter in
a single accident. I had purchased his
book then, called A Grace Disguised, because I knew that if this man could
speak with such hope after experiencing such pain, many others would want to
hear his story too. I had passed it to others in their times of loss, but had
never read it in its entirety myself. I
immediately knew that this was my time to do just that.
On one of the days
when the darkness of my own grief seemed to over take me, I read these words;
words that couldn't have described more accurately my own emotions if I had written them
personally. So I'll let Jerry's words
speak for themselves.
"I had a kind of waking dream...of a setting
sun. I was frantically running west, trying desperately to catch it and remain
in its fiery warmth and light. But I was losing the race. The sun was beating
me to the horizon and was soon gone. I
suddenly found myself in the twilight.
Exhausted, I stopped running and glanced with foreboding over my
shoulder to the east. I saw a vast
darkness closing in on me. I was terrified by that darkness. I wanted to keep running after the sun,
though I knew that it was futile, for it had already proven itself faster than
I was. So I lost all hope, collapse to the ground, and fell into despair. I
thought in that moment that I would live in darkness forever. I felt absolute terror in my soul."
That was what it
looked like for me at that moment! He
got it! He described the chase in exact
detail. I too was urgently trying to
make the day last, because the night did indeed bring absolute terror!
Jerry
went on to share, "A few days later I
talked about the dream with a cousin…. He mentioned a poem of John Donne that
turns on the point that, though east and west seem farthest removed on a map,
they eventually meet on a globe. What therefore
appears as opposites- east and west- in time, come together, if we follow one
or the other long enough and far enough.
Later my sister, Diane, told me that the quickest way for anyone to
reach the sun and the light of day is to not run west, chasing after the
setting sun, but to head east, plunging into the darkness until one comes to
the sunrise.
I remember slamming
the book shut and throwing it on my bedside table as if it had just stung me
suddenly. I COULD NOT DO what he
suggested. I WOULD NOT DO it! To
turn to the east meant to turn toward the scene of my daughter's accident. It was all I could do to know her absence- to
embrace it and all that might come with it seemed insurmountable.
Yet I returned to
the book several days later, he continued,
I discovered in that moment that I had the power to
choose the direction my life would head, even if the only choice open to me, at
least initially, was either to run from the loss or to face it as best I
could. Since I knew that darkness was
inevitable and unavoidable, I decided from that point on to walk into the
darkness rather than to try to outrun it, to let my experience of loss take me
on a journey wherever it would lead, and allow myself to be transformed by my
suffering rather than to think I could somehow avoid it. I chose to turn toward the pain, however
falteringly, and to yield to the loss, though I had no idea at the time what
that would mean."
The more I pondered
his words, the more I came to grips with the futility of trying to avoid the
pain, I soon came to realize the only way to find hope in this journey was to
'turn east'; to walk through the darkness to the sunrise after.
It took several more
days of pondering what that might look like before I began to realize that for
me to truly turn east, I had to take that walk that my daughter had taken that
day, down our long lane and the mile and a half east of our house. I had to stand at the corner where she had
darted across the intersection to meet a friend, only to run out in front of a
car and be killed instantly.
I stood there
pondering what her response was when she realized the friend she met instead
was Jesus. Had there been a Narnia door
that opened for her to pass through; a portal that we could not see, but she
witnessed first hand. A friend had said
at the funeral that he could imagine her almost tripping into heaven and
falling to her knees and saying, "Ooops! My bad!"
But as I stood
there, I sensed that as she passed into heaven's home, she was instantly aware
that she stood before the Son of God and fell to her knees in humble
worship. The week before she died, I had
committed to read through the book of Revelation. So that morning after her
accident, I had picked up chapter 1 again.
When I saw him, I fell at his feet as though dead. Then he placed his right hand on me
and said: "Do not be afraid. I am the First and the Last. I am the Living One;
I was dead, and now look, I am alive for ever and ever! And I hold the keys of
death and Hades.
Revelation chapter 4 had given me a description of the throne,
A rainbow that shown like an emerald encircled the throne.
Of course it would be green. Green was her favorite color. She had come running in one morning a few weeks before and declared, "My favorite color means my favorite word. Green means HOPE!"
Surrounding the throne were twenty-four other thrones, and seated on them were
twenty-four elders. ... In the center, around the throne, were four living creatures,
and they were covered with eyes, in front and in back.... Day and night they never
stop saying:
"Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty, who was and is, and is to come."
Whatever I had believed about heaven before, I had this very real sense at that intersection of roads, the intersection of each and west, that my daughter was there, in the throne room with those elders and living creatures, laying down her crown, kneeling in His presence saying, "Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord God Almighty, who was, and is, and is to come."
Whenever the living creatures give glory, honor and thanks to him who sits
on the throne and who lives forever and ever, the twenty-four elders fall down
before him who sits on the throne and worship him who lives for ever and ever.
They lay their crowns before the throne and say:
You are worthy, our Lord and God, to recieve glory and honor and power,
for you created all things, and by your will they were created and have their being.
I was a LIVING creature. Even though I felt like I was dying, even though I felt such pain, I could choose to join Leisha in this moment also. I could give him glory, honor, and thanks to him to sits on the throne, to the LIVING ONE who died and now is alive forever and ever. I fell to my knees by the side of the road where I had last seen her broken body and wept.
Over and
over I repeated the words
"Holy, holy, holy",
"who was, who is, who
is to come",
"Living One who died"
"Oh God!"
***********
I don't
know how long I sat there, it seemed like hours, but was probably only a few
moments. I don't remember ever noticing
a car passing or a runner on the road.
We may not have a lot of traffic on these country roads, but it was rare
that there was no one that afternoon.
I
remember standing to walk home and feeling completely spent. I didn't know how I was going to make the
trek back. I had no energy for it. I began to reason, if I could make it to the
driveway, perhaps I could get the Suter's to take me home. And then felt like I had enough strength to
go on to the Diller's driveway. Once
there, I knew that I wanted to go back over the bridge where I had last seen
Leisha's vibrant smile and wave. From there, I was sure the Basinger's could
take me the rest of the way. But I don't
remember the rest of the walk until I was walking up to front door of my the
house. I collapsed in the sofa in my living room- a fragile, emotionally spent,
but somehow at peace mother.
Jerry said, "My decision to
enter the darkness had far-reaching consequences, both positive and
negative. It was the first step I took
toward growth, but it was also the first step I took toward pain. I had no idea then how tumultuous my grief
would be. I did not know the depths of suffering to which I would
descend."
…"but that is only half of
the story. The decision to face the darkness, even if it led to overwhelming
pain, showed me that the experience of loss itself does not have to be the
defining moment of our lives. Instead
the defining moment can be our response to the loss. It is not what happens TO us that matters as much as what happens IN us. Darkness,
it is true, had invaded my soul. But
then again, so did light. Both
contributed to my personal transformation."
That was
6 years ago! God met me then, and has
journeyed so intimately with me in the walk since then. So what will I do today!
Do I
dare 'turn east' again?
Would
you?
