Yes, yes, I know. I disappear for a week and then return on this note: death. I truly am sorry. My friend's father died in a kayaking accident this weekend. It so happens that my friend is Lily's father (you know- the precious baby that I watch who doesn't like to sleep). Jeremy lived with us for a few months before Amanda (his wife) came and they bought a house a mile down the road. We did a good impression of communal living until Amanda got a job and couldn't cook for us anymore. Amanda got pregnant and I was able to witness Lily's birth just 4 months ago. I have been watching Lily and have continued to be a major part of this family.
Last night I hugged my friends, did some of their dishes and occupied the baby while they walked around doing things, anything.
So many things struck me about this situation. One was that when I found out about Jeremy's Dad- my immediate reaction was shock, and then I moved to a state of rejection. I suppose that's denial- but it felt different. It wasn't that I didn't believe it to be true, but rather I wished to reject the truth. I thought- no- this is not the way this should go, this is not what we choose. I reject it. I choose another path. I choose another outcome. I reject it. Obviously that didn't work- but the feeling was so strong that for a split second I thought the story might change.
It is amazing how normal and not normal death is. I don't know the statistics- but death is a constant and ever-present reality. Every second of the day- not one but many people are dying around the world. This is not unusual. But it doesn't make it hurt less or less strange to the ones it happens closely to. We have an amazing capacity to be completely unaware of death until it strikes close to home. I wonder what that is...why that is.
Something I have learned through the process of grief and watching others grieve is that grief is a very organic thing. I mean that every person, every situation, every instance and timing of grief is shaped and changed by countless variables. We all grieve differently. We grieve in different volumes, different timing, different coping mechanisms. Sometimes we are not healthy- but it's so hard to even discount that grief. When my Memaush died- I fell into depression. I had no idea that it even was an outpouring of my grief. There were countless reasons why I fell into that ditch- but I didn't see them- all I saw was the black hole I'd fallen into. When I started climbing out and sort of had an epiphany moment- I realized (with some help from my counselor) that I wasn't experiencing the same kind of depression that others have experienced- at least not exactly. I was grieving. Time helped. Support helped. Sunlight helped. Joy came in the morning. That doesn't come as quickly or as easily for others. I had no idea how deeply death had carved a hole into my heart. Luckily love was able to fill it back up. Was my depression healthy? No. Could I have avoided it? Maybe. But I learned a lot. My husband and I learned a lot. It was my way.
Now I watch my friends grieve. It is amazing to watch how closely their personalities match their grief. How all the little things about them turn up in their coping. I hope to be a presence with them- supporting them and allowing them to grieve.
Many people say that everything happens for a reason. I understand why they say that, and I understand that it is very comforting to many people. I don't agree with this statement though. At least not in faith and philosophy. Logically- yes everything happens for a reason. There is cause and effect. But what most people are really saying when they say this is that God has a purpose/reason for all of these things happening. That somehow God caused or wanted these things to happen so that the reasons/results may come about. I disagree. I have learned from experience.... well maybe the word learned is too strong- I have discerned from my experiences that God may not be in complete control of all that happens.
We heard Jim Gully speak last week. Jim was trapped in a crushed hotel lobby for 55 hours following the earthquake in Haiti. He was trapped with 4 others, 2 who later died due to injuries and medical complications following the ordeal. Jim's talk was surprisingly humble and non-dramatic. I think these are the kinds of situations when it is ok to feel or speak dramtically- it is a dramatic event. But Jim Gully kept the focus on the event- not himself. He kept the focus on Haiti and the rubble they are still slowly digging through. He has been back to Haiti 6 times since his rescue and plans to continue his deep relationship with the Haitian people. He didn't even glorify the reason he was there in the first place: he was there for a conference that was to discuss whether his group would continue financially supporting a charitable organization that was no longer functioning as well as they hoped it would. His two friends who died- he didn't agonize over the guilt or sorrow he must have felt. Jim kept it simple and honest. It felt very real because it was told so matter-of-factly. He talked about pulling out his laptop to try to get a signal. Singing songs when they got angry or worn out. The most dramatic moment of his story was when he spoke of the rescue- when they heard the workers coming and digging for them- the group broke out into song, the doxology: Praise God from whom all blessings flow, praise God all creatures here below.... It was a beautiful moment in his story. Jim said something about what he learned from his experience - and it surprised me. He said that he realized God was not in control of everything. What a powerful and strong statement! I can only imagine the toes he was stepping on to make that statement in a room full of church-goers. I was proud of him. Of course no one made any statement against him in that setting- because who can argue with his experience? He felt the chaos and randomness of nature. He felt the non-judging walls crumbling down on Haitians and Americans, rich and poor- paying no attention to class or race or intelligence. When he said that God does not control everything- I think in his statement he was saying the opposite of what people mean when they say God is in control, or everything happens for a reason. He was saying- we were on a fault line. At that particular time, the earth moved. Shabby walls fell and no one could buy their way out. It just happened. He was safe- because he was at the right place at the right time, although ultimately he was at the wrong place at the wrong time. Jim did say that God was with them the whole time, that God was with all of them.
Chaos might be the most frightening thing for humans to embrace. Death is chaotic- random and untimed. Nature often moves with a certain measure of chaos- no matter how well we try to predict it. Life can be very chaotic - and yet it is part of every day, every hour, every second. We just don't know when our slice of chaos will happen. Maybe this is a little bit of the thief in the night that Jesus refers to.
Life is precious. Our time is precious. God is with us all the time, but as scary as it seems- I believe God may not always be in control of what happens to us. The hope I pray for is that God is able, as we read in scriptures, to cause all things to work together for good. Does that mean that all things do? Not necessarily- I think we work together with God in that, and sometimes we are not able or willing to do our part- or that perhaps it will be a long long time before we can. Does that mean that God caused the accident to happen? Not in my opinion- but I do believe that God is able to perform miracles by drawing light out of even the darkest corners.
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