Even If

Philip Yancey's book Where's God When it Hurts? was a tremendous encouragement to me in the months following my brain tumor diagnosis in 2005. I recently read that he was in a major car accident in February 2007. He recounts his story on his website here: A Brush with Death.  "Epilogue to Prayer: Does It Make Any Difference?" is a good reminder that life is fragile, we know not the moment we will draw our last breath, and God controls every detail of our lives. He is not my genie in a bottle. No! He is sovereign and sees the beginning from the end - working all things for the good (Romans 8:28-39), but this is hard to grasp in the midst of seemingly unfair circumstances. In addition to my ongoing health issues, this past year and a half, my family and I experienced some unexpected tragedies which involved the death of two loved ones.

In the summer of 2015, my oldest daughter lost her best friend and husband-to-be in a freak accident while he was visiting friends in Washington state. She describes on her blog what happened the day she found out he died:

Wednesday, August 12. 12:15 p.m. (CDT) Forty-five minutes before his death. "We're heading out to deception pass. I don't know what it is - maybe a mountain or something. Anyways, I'll try to call you later, hopefully not too late." This was the last text he sent me. Short. Simple. 

 1:30 p.m. It was just an ordinary summer afternoon - Scott sent his daily text to check on me; I was taking my lunch break in the middle of my history test; and I went to Bahama Bucks with my mom and siblings for some refreshment. Life was normal. Life was good. Scott would be home in only 4 days and I counted them down as each one was passing. . . 

1:45 p.m. We were driving home and passed a car accident when mom's phone rang, but the call was missed. Then mine rang, and the call was missed. Scott's mom and sister were supposed to be in our area that day. Thinking maybe something happened...I called Scott's mom back to receive a response that left me uneasy, "I just called your dad. You need to call him." We turned around to park in a parking lot across from the accident.  I called my dad and the first thing he told me was, "There's been an accident." My initial thought was, "Someone is in the accident in front of us." It was then that my dad's words cut through me like a knife. "It's Scott. He passed away. He's gone . . ."

Raw. Cruel. Gut wrenching. Lights were flashing and sirens sounding. Scott was gone. Gone from this life. He wasn't coming back.

He had been hiking at Deception Pass with his brother and friends. Along the trail, on their way back up the island's rocky cliffs, Scott decided to get one last look at the breathtaking view . . . from what he thought was a safe spot on the branch of a Madrona tree. Nothing could've made any of the guys think that Scott would breathe his last on this island, or that they would make desperate attempts to try and revive him from a freak accident. Nothing could've prepared his family and I for the news of his passing. But it was God's will, under His timing, in His control, and in His hands. God blessed Scott with a gorgeous view of earth's paradise while doing one of his favorite things, before the branch broke leading to his sudden and instant departure. Only seconds later, Scott's next breath would be taken in pure heavenly paradise and in the Lord's glorious presence. 

He was only 18. He had a full-ride scholarship. He had a steady job. He had his life planned out. These things are what people look at, and say "he was too young". These are things that still put me in confusion. Confusion on how such achievements were made, and how he never got to experience the rest of what should've been 60-80 years of his life. It was too early of a cut-off . . . to us, but not to God. I still try to wrap my brain around it, but in reality I cannot. I may never be able to understand until the day I arrive at Heaven's door...  

The months following Scott's death were intensely grievous (still are at times). Why did this have to happen? We were still reeling from this tragedy when I received a phone call a few months later that my father had died in a motorcycle accident. It was the day before his 69th birthday. He was literally in the middle of planning a trip to Texas to come see us! I was going to call him on his birthday, and we were going to firm up the plans for his visit. But no, my dad was gone forever.

Fishing was one of my dad's favorite things to do with my kids when he came to visit from Oregon. They always caught tons of fish from a nearby pond in our neighborhood, but I rarely did - no matter how many times I tried. The last time I saw him and the last day we spent together, he took his grandchildren and me fishing.

Typically the only fish in this stocked pond is perch - lots and lots of perch. However, on this day, my youngest daughter caught a big catfish that broke the line as she and my husband were bringing it in.

A fish story from Sept. 2014: "It was this big!"

From then on, my family raced to see who could hook the biggest fish. They continued to lure more perch and, as usual, I was left with nothing.

Everyone was cleaning up, and we were about finished when I grabbed the last worm hoping maybe this time I might hook something for once. Determined, I cast my line and began to pray that God would help me catch the catfish. Within moments the line pulled, and I shouted for joy at the sight of the answered prayer, "I caught a fish...a catfish!"

Little did I know at the time how much I would need that fish to remind me that the Lord does hear my prayers...no matter how small. Here is the last picture I took with my Dad:

My daughter continues on her blog regarding Scott's passing:

God only knows how many times I have cried, I have prayed, and I have pleaded for strength . . . the strength to go on, with Him as my light, when it seems as though all the lights of life have gone out. And each day I have received strength in different ways - it's not always the same. It's all part of the struggle of death and the wrestling of sorrow in the heart. Grief is a process. It is painful. It is hard. It can be lonely. And it is slow. Each person grieves differently and at their own pace. You may have people tell you "It will get better" or "Oh, the pain will all go away soon". In reality, the hurt will never really go away. It may lessen over years, but it'll never be fully gone. Life will still move, and you have to learn to move with it. The raw wound will ever so slowly heal . . . but the scar that came with the brutal separation will never fade. If you have scars, value them. Each one holds a memory. Each one is important. They are building blocks to your life. Let them remind you of who holds you in His hands throughout the waves and storms of life. Let them remind you that the trials of life that left the scar(s) are what remain after you have had the perseverance that He helped you to pursue. . .God will carry you through the pain, the struggles, and the heartache - just as He continues to do so for me.

Ongoing challenges accompany these hardships as we try to move forward and adjust in the aftermath of it all. Even still, I pray and thank God for his sustaining grace and good memories when they come.

"I know You're able, and I know You can save through the fire with Your mighty hand - But even if You don't, my hope is You alone...It is well with my soul." - Mercy Me