Choosing to SEE - Mary Beth Chapman [81]
Then I saw Caleb – who happened to catch the bride’s garter, which was a bright Irish green – wearing said garter around his head like a ninja, with a bright pink bunny tucked into it on his forehead. Other guys had their hands full of bunnies. This couldn’t be good.
And as the happy bride and groom ran for the getaway car, it began. Bunny wars. Tanner tried to shield a perturbed Emily as they were painfully pelted with hundreds of cute little rabbits . . . which was not quite the fairytale end to what had, thus far, been a perfect Cinderella day.
Emily’s Smile
“Emily’s Smile” is the melody I heard in my head as I tried to picture my sweet little girl slowly walking down the aisle, dressed in white, with that beautiful smile on her beautiful face, to become a bride to the man of her dreams. Her mom and I know that this is a day that she has dreamed of since she was a little girl. We also know how incredibly happy she is this day because of the goodness and faithfulness of her Heavenly Father. So there’s no doubt that while there will certainly be a few tears, this day will be lit up brightly by Emily’s smile.
Steven Curtis Chapman,
note on wedding program
33
Journaling, Blogging,
and Sobbing
The quickest way for anyone to reach the sun and the light of day
is not to run west, chasing after the setting sun, but to head east,
plunging into the darkness until one comes to the sunrise.
Jerry Sittser
I’d been a faithful blogger before Maria’s homegoing, sharing photos, fun, and Chapman news for our friends online. After the accident, blogging was either impossible or terrifying. I had nothing to say.
But bit by bit, I started expressing myself again . . . in blogs or journal entries or even text messages.
But I started short and sweet. Here’s my first blog after we lost Maria:
September 19, 2008
He is God!
I couldn’t do much more than that. But I did need to write what was happening. In October I sent this text message to Steven after a trip to Florida with my best friend, Karen, during which we prayed, read the Bible, walked the beach, looked at photos, cried about the past, and prayed about the future:
October 18, 2008
I love you. Ready to see you tomorrow, but unfortunately this trip was not a magic pill to “fix” me.
I knew it wouldn’t be.
It has been great and I’ve remembered a ton.
But in the end, Maria is still gone and her life was lived so full – but also just full enough for this mama to want her back with everything inside of me . . . thus leaving me with the same questions I came with . . . and a bunch of head knowledge as to how to live with this catastrophic loss.
I’m not sure when my broken heart will ever let the knowledge of my head in, or if it can.
I’m afraid to trust God (obviously a past issue) because in my humanness we’ve trusted and lost over and over.
So where do I go from here?
Once again . . . wanting Maria back and feeling as though God forgot our cumulative prayers of protection on May 21. Which sucks cuz I’ve read some awesome stuff this week, but it is hard to let it sink in. I love you.
The same day, I wrote Steven a card, which was as much for me as for him:
October 18, 2008
Take my hand . . . that’s really it! All we can do is to grab hands, hold tight, and start taking steps!
It feels like we are walking into hurricane-force winds, but maybe, just maybe if we hold tight to each other, and then tie ourselves to the Creator of the hurricane in the first place, we will survive the storm that we are surely in!
I’m only prepared to say survive . . . not yet able to see the calm sunshine and beauty that comes after such devastation, but I’m willing to hold on, which in the end is the true meaning of faith and trust.
Thanks for helping me and not expecting me to be OK too soon. I’m scared, very scared. I’m holding tight. It’s all I know to do.
All my love,
Me xxox
Most of my grief those first months went into my journals:
October 2008
Maria,
I’m sad. Brokenhearted and wounded. You are momentarily gone from me, taken without notice,