Choosing to SEE - Mary Beth Chapman [98]
Lori and Ray had tried to help her every way they could. They’d taken her to therapy and counseling, but nothing had really broken through.
Anyway, Alex is a teenager now. And on the night of Maria’s accident, Alex was sitting with one of her friends, crying and praying for us. And then as she was crying out to God to comfort Will, God gave her words she had never uttered before. She began talking about the night of the crash that had robbed her of her sister and her peace. For the first time in 10 years, she verbalized her feelings that she was responsible for her sister’s death. As she prayed for Will, Alex felt a peace and rest she hadn’t known before.
In God’s perfect timing, He used my Will’s pain as a trigger for Alex’s healing. And now she’s volunteering at a counseling center, and she’s studying for a degree in counseling, so she can help children deal with trauma and brokenness!
September 25, 2009
Today is just one of those days, when it all seems very surreal again, and if I take a nap maybe I’ll wake up to life being different, with Maria running up and down the steps a million times like she always did. Maria was loud, as I’ve told you all before, so her absence is a huge void around here.
For the most part, everyone is adjusting to the new normal – you know the one with a huge elephant in the room that some days you just have to ignore to make it through the day . . . or on other days, you talk it out, cry it out, fight it out, or pray it out of the room.
I’ve now read so many books on grief that I should have a degree, but you know what? There isn’t any one way to do it. My story isn’t yours and your story isn’t mine. I’ve come to the conclusion that the only thing people who are suffering and grieving have in common, at least if you believe as I do as a Christian, is the One who suffered for us. And the Father, who grieved for Him going to the cross, understands.
Now, whoever is sitting there saying, “Yeah, sure . . . right,” I’m with you! There are days that God is sooooooo quiet that I begin to question Him. I’m just being honest. There seem to be days of silence.
And even with all the seeds sprouting from planting the story of Maria into the hearts of thousands, it still seems quiet when I most need to hear Him. I am still assuming that this is where faith, hope, and trust enter the picture. If I stop believing, then what? Maybe that is what God wants me to learn through all the silence. And some days I’m hopeful.
On other days I’m screaming, “I believe . . . help my unbelief!”
The chronic pain that lives in my heart and my soul wants surgery to fix it . . . get it better quick! But sixteen months into this journey, I’m beginning to realize that God perhaps wants me to heal slowly so that as many things that can be learned about Him are learned. I’m not being a very good student today. Maybe tomorrow my attention will be better!
I am trusting He has the Chapmans’ best plan scripted out for us until we are with sweet Maria again. I’m sure it won’t be all happy and pain free. I know that suffering is one place where He ministers to us the most. So to think that we’ve had our quota would be foolish. I am just longing for the day when all the pain stops.
Until then, may we face each struggle with the hope that He is working out His salvation in us, looking to the day when all things will be made new and suffering ends.
I know Maria knows that now. I can’t wait until she can give me the VIP tour of heaven! Have a great weekend, and again . . . for those hurting . . . I’m just very, very sorry, and you need to know that God does understand.
October 13, 2009
Twenty-five years ago today this Ohio girl with big eighties