September
23, 2019
Questions
I love how children ask
questions. Sometimes their questions
make you go search something. Like “what
is a rainbow?” or “why are leaves green?”
Sometimes their questions mirror
your own; but those you won’t speak.
You know, questions that your
doubting mind asks but your thinking heart understands.
“Why are you crying?” I ask.
My little girl is riding with me to go pick up two of her big sisters, “why did Aunt Mary die? Why is Mandy’s mom gone? Jay is a baby; he will never remember his mom.”
Her tears fall as she speaks. I let her finish talking. My heart aches. I ask those questions in my head too.
“I miss my baby sister too.” I
start, I want to connect with her heart. “Our world is broken because of sin.” She nods, she has heard this too.
“I know,” she is still slowly
crying, “but she loved Jesus since she was little like me.” (Mary
had told them once that she was five when she promised Jesus her heart. I was
there. She was telling everyone about
Jesus and was just five years old.)
Jaquline didn’t know how complex her aunt’s life had become so
fast. Because of sinful controlling people
in her life that kept her bogged down, in fear of her life or her family’s
life, and assaulted her mentally as they tried to keep her quiet and separate her
from anyone who truly loved her. As a
young teen, some guy misused her, showed her that from a certain spot he could
see her father’s bedroom, and told her one shot through the window would kill
the man she loved the most. He was the
first to rip her young heart to shreds with his awful controlling self – then
he had the gall to continue to threaten her when she moved 300 miles away! Others treated her like dirt; lying about
those she loved and people who cared about her until she actually believed these
lies and isolated herself from those who would have helped her.
I could hate these people. Instead I pray for them.
But she’s my baby sister. There was a part of me that wanted to go “Good
Citizen” on their carcasses. But I know
Jesus died for them just like He died for me and I am supposed to love my
enemies.
Switch back to my car on the
interstate with my nine year old sitting shotgun with silent tears crawling
down her fair cheeks. This all flashes
really fast so the same song is still playing.
“Do you ever think about where Aunt
Mary is now?” Jaquline says. Newsong’s “My Heart is Already There” was playing in
the background.
“Yes.” All the time. That comforts me. “She’s with Jesus. Can you imagine? Being in His presence and seeing his face?”
Jaquline giggles. “Maybe all her
puppies will be there.” (Mary loved animals and was always trying to
get a dog, but always the guy she lived with didn’t want one.)
“Remember the pictures of her as a
baby chasing Boodle?” I ask (cutest little
Maltese my family had twenty years ago) Jaquline laughs. “I bet she’s petting him instead of chasing
him now.”
“I ask Jesus why Aunt Mary is gone.”
Her voice is distant. “He doesn’t answer.”
I sighed, “do you know why Jesus
made us?”
“To be with Him.” Bingo.
“Yes, He wanted a relationship with
us. He loves each of us. He didn’t want Mary to die, but now she is
with Him all the time. Only God knows
when each person’s time comes to die. We
all will die one day.”
“I always hope to die when I’m old
like Boompa,” Jaquline said. “I’m not so
sad for Boompa, but I’m so sad for Aunt Mary.
I’m sad for Grandma.” Yes. Same
for me. I miss my father immensely. I miss my sister. I can’t fathom the depth of grief for my
mother.
“Jesus will comfort Grandma. We have to help love her too.” I say.
“We can be Jesus’ arms and hug her!”
Jaquline’s tears have dried a bit and she’s now thinking about serving
others. She loves helping; it usually
brings her happiness.
“Yes.” I smiled at her as we
parked. “And sometimes Jesus uses her
arms to hug you, too.”
Big smiles return.
Yes. I totally miss my sister. I grieve for the harshness she ended up living through for the last few years of her life. 23. Her life’s clock stopped so short, only 23 years. I always dreamed of her silly dancing at our Christmas parties for ages, smiling her beaming-happy-smile as she watched nieces and her daughter walk shakily down their aisle to their forever-love, dancing with her sons at their weddings, encouraging my teenagers in their Christian walk toward womanhood, and living her new-found free life focused on her three little angels. Their plans, maybe not together, but at least working together for the best – the children. So, yes, I asked that question. “Why, God? Why is my baby sister dead?” It seemed so surreal for me. No body. No last look. No nothing. I keep expecting her to drive up, drop the littles off, and enjoy some of whatever food we have just cooked.
I know this world is broken by
sin. I know it wasn’t ever in God’s plan
for us to have death. I know my
grandmothers, father, and baby sister are in heaven in the presence of God. I have hope I will see them again. But yes, I did ask those questions. Yes, my heart aches for my family who must
live without her. I pray for all of us
daily. I find it hardest to pray for
those who have hurt her, but that is my challenge. I must love them as Jesus did.
My mind drifts back:
“…He has called us too! He has
called us too! We are all disciples!
Even me and you!” The little voice yells each stanza of the VBS
song. Jumping with excitement, “did I
get them all right?”
I had been singing along and am
raking something for a vegetable bed. “Yes,
Mary, don’t bounce on my tilled dirt.” We laugh and she points at her shoeprints.
“Yippeeeeeee!” She hollers and
spins. “Where’s Easter! I’m gonna sing it to Easter!” And she runs off in a singing blur, little
bright blue eyes sparkling with life, long wispy blonde hair flying about in
the Georgia breeze, she’s going to find that silly yellow hen that actually
loves to be captured by Mary and sits contentedly tucked in her arms. I look up to see my vibrant baby sister
swinging on the swingset with Easter in her lap, projecting her beautiful voice
with some soul-singer power as she practices the song for tomorrow’s VBS
service. (You know, where the kids show
off to the adults what they’ve learned in the week) Mary would tell the
world that she asked Jesus in her heart about two years later. She had such a love for life and care for
others. No one is perfect. We aren’t Jesus. I love her for her heart. I will always love my baby sister. No, loss
never “gets easy” but I do have hope in Jesus that I will see her again. And that keeps me out of falling into
bitterness. I can’t allow my grief to turn into bitterness. I can’t be Rose from Overcomer; I have to
choose joy.
And just like a soundtrack to my
life, as I slide back in the car with the two older girls in tow, For King and
Country’s “I Choose Joy” is shouting from the speakers.
Thank you, Jesus. You know my heart.
Type at you next time,
~Nancy Tart
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