Choosing to SEE - Mary Beth Chapman [65]
Whenever I thought of Stevey Joy, she was the continual reminder that her almost-twin, her best friend and constant companion, was gone. They did everything together; they had even dressed alike. And in a split second, Stevey Joy was alone, her whole sense of security ripped away. She was so young, she couldn’t understand what was going on in her world and how much everything had changed. I was so old . . . and I couldn’t even understand it.
Then there was Shaoey . . . so responsible for her age and carrying the terrible pictures in her head of having seen the whole accident, a burden no child should ever have to bear. She was so smart, so logical by nature . . . and she could not make any sense of this. She wanted to be with me all the time, and she was becoming more and more angry.
And Will . . . so caring, so tenacious, so strong, so broken. Clinging, just barely, to what he knew to be true, that God was with him even in this. Such a hard concept for anyone to grasp, let alone a seventeen-year-old boy and Maria’s best buddy.
I thought of Emily, trying to be the helpful firstborn child and clinging to Tanner with all her might . . . of Caleb, the prayer warrior, who kept a constant watch on Will. He was trying to be a strong man, and he leaned on Julia for encouragement.
I felt completely numb and non-functioning, yet at the same time I was going through the motions and making the decisions that had to be made. But even in my pain I could see that my children’s pain was worse. More than anything, as a mom I wanted to fix all this for my kids. To make it all go away. To turn back the hands of time.
And of course I couldn’t.
Hours went by. I finally crept out of bed and tiptoed downstairs to Karen’s room.
“Karen!” I whispered. She was dozing and so was Reggie. She woke up right away.
“I can’t sleep!” I said. “Can you come and sleep with me?”
My wonderful friend understood my loneliness and panic. She got out of bed, and we headed up the stairs to our bedroom. I crawled into the bed, squishing Steven over against the wall on his side. I was in the middle and then Karen got in next to me, clinging to the outer edge of the mattress.
“Okay, Karen,” I said, “now you can tell everyone you slept with Steven Curtis Chapman!”
We actually had a few seconds of giggles.
Steven woke up. “What are you doing?” he asked groggily.
“I can’t sleep, and you’re asleep,” I whispered. “So I need Karen here so she can recite Scripture to me and I can go to sleep!”
My sleepy husband smiled, rolled over toward me, and fell back to sleep, totally understanding.
26
Sown in Tears
I don’t even want to breathe right now All I want to do is close my eyes And I don’t want to open them again Till I’m standing on the other side I don’t even want to be right now I don’t want to think another thought And I don’t want to feel this pain I feel But right now pain is all I’ve got
“I Will Trust You”
Words and music by
Steven Curtis Chapman
Those who sow in tears will reap with songs of joy.
Psalm 126:5
We had a public visitation at our church on Friday afternoon. Thousands of people came. The support from our community, and the expressions of love and sadness that came from across the country and around the world, were unbelievable to us.
As Steven and I greeted the people who were able to come to the church, a lot of them didn’t know what to say. The thing that helped us most was when people would just hug us and say, “There are no words.”
Some people did their best to hold it together, but as soon as they made it through the long line and to us, they fell apart.
Others would innocently try to connect our sorrow with some event in their own lives.