What Remains True after 6 months of Grieving

Today marks 6 months since Mary passed away.  6 months since she entered the presence of God.  Thinking about it in those terms seems so much sweeter.

For us, it's been 6 months of stumbling through each day, crying in the moments where it seems too hard to bear, trying to figure out how to pick up from here with her gone.

But, for her....every day, she is amazed again as she sees before her very eyes the God of the universe.  Every moment, her heart is filled with inexpressible joy as she stands in the presence of her Savior.  Her faith has become sight and she is well.  She's been there 6 whole months and nothing about it is "getting old."  Nothing about it seems too familiar to be amazed.  She's never once wished she could come back to earth, even on the days we'd give anything to have her back.

Her kids started a new school year this week without their mom.  I really cannot imagine what that is like--back to school shopping without mom, new teachers and friends without mom, another season of life without mom.  My heart truly hurts for those boys.

But, I have to cling to this hope in the midst of it: there is more.  There is more than what is seen, more than the pain that lingers and weighs heavily even after 6 months, more than 2 kids trying to get by without their mom.  There is a God who loves those boys more than any person ever could--even Mary. He is still on His throne and He's pointing us to our Home beyond this earth.

I think if Mary could talk to us on days like today--ones where we relive every painful, nightmarish moment leading up to her leaving this earth; ones where we are reminded that this isn't just going to "go away"--she'd say something like this:  It's going to be okay.  I know it hurts and I know that you wish you could change things or somehow see the end of this story.  But, please know that this God is everything He says He is.  He really does love His children more than you could ever imagine and He really does work all things together for good in the end.  Don't give up.  It's worth every second of pain and suffering when you see what He's prepared for those who love Him, when you see Him.  

So, that hope gets me through days like today.  I know it will be worth it in the end--for her boys, for her sisters, for her friends, for every single person affected by this, and for the sake of the Kingdom for all eternity.  It isn't just "okay" or "tolerable."  It is best.  And even after 6 months of wrestling through questions and coming up short on answers, I still believe that with all of my heart.  Mary not only believes that from a distance, but sees it day in and day out.  And someday we will too. I don't know exactly what that day will be like.  But, I imagine it will be something like what Steven Curtis Chapman says:

Though this first taste is bitter

There will be sweetness forever

When we finally taste and see

That Our God is in control

And we’ll sing

Holy Holy Holy is in our God

And we will finally really understand what it means

So we’ll sing

Holy Holy Holy is our God

While we’re waiting for that day

Someday

It's just been one of those days.  You know, the ones where you wish you could just crawl back into bed, escape the world, pretend like reality isn't really what it seems, maybe shed a few tears in the middle of all that?

For those of you who don't know about my latest adventure, it's been the most....(for lack of a better word) mixed....experience of my life.  Devastating.  Hopeful.  Unspeakably difficult.  Incredibly rewarding. Exhausting. And even more emotions than I really know how to express.  Sometimes it's all of these emotions within the same 5 minutes.

I am the "nanny" for Mary's kids.  {For the record, I hate the word "nanny."  It sounds so impersonal to me. But, that's not what I'm here to write about.  Not today anyway. :) }

Every day, I look into the faces of two boys who just lost their mom.  Not a moment goes by that I don't think of Mary, miss her, and ache for eternity.  Most days, we go through our routine, the "new normal."  It's never easy.  But some days--like today--that pain is even deeper and more prevalent.  The Lord has been gracious and has proven faithful in giving me exactly what I need to face each day.  Nothing more.  Nothing less.  But some days, the tears are harder to hold back than usual.  I mean, what do you say to a 7-year-old who is crying, saying "I miss mommy"?  How do you let a junior high boy know that it's okay to cry? 

I have so many questions.  Almost all of them are unanswered.  Why did Mary have to suffer as she did?  Why did she have to die so young with two kids who need her?  What does God have planned for her kids?  Who will they become and how is God going to use this in their story? Will it end with their hearts being bitter towards Him?  Or will they someday say, "God is enough.  He is good.  His plans for my life are good. I will follow Him to the very end."

Over and over again, God reminds me that these things take time.  I don't know what the end of this story looks like.  But I know it's not over.  And I have full confidence that all of it will not be wasted in the hands of a sovereign and loving God.  He has a purpose that cannot be thwarted and I have to believe that even when it's difficult to feel it.


The following lyrics are from Nichole Nordeman's song "Someday."  It's pretty much where I'm at right now:

I believe in the rest of the story
I believe there's still ink in the pen
I have wasted my very last day
Trying to change what happened way back when

I believe it's the human condition
We all need to have answers to why
More than ever, I'm ready to say that I
Will still sleep peacefully
With answers out of reach from me until

Someday all that's crazy
All that's unexplained
Will fall into place
And someday all that's hazy
Through a clouded glass
Will be clear at last
And sometimes we're just waiting
For someday

We are born with a lingering hunger
We are born to be unsatisfied
We are strangers who can't help but wander
And dream about the other side of

Someday all that's crazy
All that's unexplained
Will fall into place
And someday all that's hazy
Through a clouded glass
Will be clear at last
And sometimes we're just waiting
For someday

Every puzzle's missing piece
Every unsolved mystery
More than half of every whole
Rests in the Hands that hold you for someday

Today, I'm just waiting for Someday.  But I know it's coming.  That's the beauty of it all.  Because of  what Jesus has done on my behalf, I know that Someday is coming.  The day when I will see the fullness of God's plan.  The day when I will see clearly the end from the start.  The day when questions won't even matter anymore because I will be standing before Him, seeing just how good and beautiful He is.  My faith shall become sight and I won't have to fumble in the darkness of uncertainty any longer.  I long for that day with everything in me. If I didn't have the assurance that Someday was coming, I don't know how I could face today.  But the hope I have in knowing it's coming changes everything.

So...bring it on, temporary life!  You are quickly fading, but what awaits far outweighs every tear and seemingly unbearable moment.  You may have me for 70, 80, even 90 years, but Jesus has me for eternity. And all you can try to rob me of here can't take away what I already have in Him forever.

"For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us." Romans 8:18

What God has taught by Afflictions

The past few months/weeks/days have brought pain and joy, defeats and victories, and an overall sense of hopeful mourning that is difficult to describe.  But I want to try to put into words what this season of grieving has taught me because our gracious God has not wasted the pain.  Ann Judson said it well: "God has taught us by afflictions what we would not learn by mercies."  The lessons that I am learning (still in the present tense) couldn't be learned any other way.

First, Mary's death has brought me to a deeper level of worship before God; a level that is difficult to put into words.  It's this tension in my heart of hurting so badly that I want to scream, and yet in the midst of that, knowing that the God of the universe is wise enough to use this inexpressible pain for good.  Really, Lord?  You are wise enough to take away a young mom from her kids and have that be what is best?  He has brought me to the realization that when He does things that don't make sense to me--even if they're painful--He is even more worthy of praise because He is a God who can use even pain and suffering for good.  The deep assurance my heart has when I think about that is overwhelming; wow--that is the God that loves me and has pursued me and won my heart.  He is that mighty and good and wise.  He loves His children enough to see them go through heart-wrenching pain to accomplish His purposes in their lives.  And along with this, I have seen how vital it is to base my understanding of who God is in Scripture, not on circumstances.  If I were to try to describe God based on what's happening right now, I wouldn't believe that He is good and wise and loving; but, because I already know that He is those things based on what the unchanging Truth of his Word tells me, I am brought to an even deeper sense of worship because I know that He is who He says He is even in the midst of this life-shattering suffering.

Second, I have seen the comfort of God in ways that I never would have seen without the circumstances before me.  It's not merely the comfort that He's provided for my heart--though that has been evident--it is the comfort I've seen him bring to those hurting the most.  I've seen Him comfort Mary's kids and husband and my sister in ways that are inexpressible.  To sit next to a seven-year-old that has just lost his mom as he tells you that, yes it is painful and difficult, but that God has given him help to get through it is something that speaks volumes of God's character and faithfulness in ways that little else can.  I have seen 2 Corinthians 1:3-5 in more tangible ways than I could have ever imagined:

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ,

the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, 

who comforts us in all our affliction,

so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, 

with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. 

For as we share abundantly in Christ's sufferings,

so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too.

I love the last part of that passage--through Christ.  The only reason any of us are able to experience this comfort at all is because of the cross of Jesus Christ.  He suffered in the most brutal and horrific way imaginable so that when we experience suffering, we might be able to experience the most unimaginable comfort--a comfort that is directly from God himself; the God who created us and knows our hearts more intimately than we do comforts us in the ways we need it most during times when our hurt is greatest.

Finally, I can't express what a difference eternity makes; not only the promise that Mary is no longer hurting and is in the presence of her Savior, but the hope that this world isn't the end--there's a better, more perfect world to come where I can worship this good and worthy God free of sin, seeing Him clearly as He is, FOREVER.  Every single day as I look at Mary's kids, my heart breaks for them because their lives will never be the same; things will never get "back to normal."  Their mom isn't here and no matter how I look at it, that is difficult to swallow.  But, if I didn't have the promise of heaven and the knowledge that this life on earth is temporary, it would be impossible to move on from that point.  But, there is an end to the dark.  Heaven awaits.  And, as painful as this season is, I never want to lose this sense of desperation and urgency for eternity that has come through all of this.  Even if God grants me 90 years of life, my time here is a vapor compared to the eternal life in His presence that is to come.  And, as Mary's little seven-year-old prayed the other night, "Help me to go see Mommy in heaven soon," I want that to always be true; that no matter how much longer we are here on earth, the day when we meet our Savior face-to-face would seem "soon."    

Through afflictions, He's teaching me what I would never learn through mercies.  Does it still hurt?  More than I can express.  Would I rather learn these lessons some other way?  Absolutely.  Do I trust the wisdom and goodness of my Heavenly Father?  More deeply than I ever have before; I have no other option.  So, we cry and we grieve and we ache, but we have HOPE that runs deep and follow a God "with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change." (James 1:17)  He is good and loving in ALL that He does and He is enough.            

The Speech I never wanted to give

Below is the tribute I gave at Mary's funeral service yesterday. I would never wish for that day to come when it did, but am thankful that I got to speak in honor of someone so dear. I'm continuing to pray for those that were present (myself included) that Ecclesiastes 7:1-2 would be true in our hearts and lives in the coming days and weeks; that this day where death has been placed before us, the living would lay it to heart.

To say that it’s difficult to find the words to describe Mary is a harsh understatement.  Not because I don’t have enough to say, but because I still can’t wrap my mind around talking about her in the past tense.  But, I want to do my best to honor a woman who meant so much to my family and me.

I met Mary in 2002.  Brenden was in my nephew Zach’s kindergarten class.  Mary and my sister quickly became best friends and along with that, our family quickly inherited a new sister and daughter.  She was at all of our family gatherings, birthday parties, and celebrations.  It’s hard to remember a time when she wasn’t part of our family.  I have so many sweet memories with Mary, but hands-down my favorite is when Mary entered our family in a new and even deeper sense—Mary accepted Jesus Christ as her personal Savior and entered the family of God. I still remember the phone call from Wendy, telling me the news.  We both cried, screamed, and jumped up and down, rejoicing with all of heaven that we had a new family member. Once she became our sister in Christ, our relationship with her was even sweeter, deeper and more full.

Mary wasted no time in growing deeper in her new relationship with God.  I remember so many conversations with her—asking how to read the Bible, how to overcome sin, how to share her faith with those around her, including her husband and kids so that they too could know the hope she had.  Once she committed her life to following Jesus Christ, there was no turning back.

Next came the phone call telling us that Butch had surrendered his life to Christ as well.  We were stunned at what God was doing in this family’s life and that we got to have a front row seat, watching it all unfold.

To say that it was all just a walk in the park from that point on would be a lie.  Butch, Mary and the kids still experienced difficulty and still had struggles.  What was different was that all those struggles now had a purpose and Butch and Mary had a solid rock and firm foundation to stand on in the midst of their difficulties.

When Nik was diagnosed with Diabetes, Mary admitted it was difficult, but without hesitation said, “Well, I’ve been praying for a way to get closer to God.  This isn’t what I was expecting, but it’s working!”

Next, came the news that none of us were expecting or could have ever been prepared for.  I still remember the exact place I was standing when I talked to Butch on the phone as he told me Mary was in the hospital and that the doctors had found a mass in her esophagus.  I didn’t know what to do other than sit by her side and cry with her.  The day it was confirmed to be cancer, I spent the day sitting next to Mary’s hospital bed, praying with her, crying with her, holding her hand.  Mary was in shock, but she hadn’t lost her sense of humor.  The Yankees were playing that day and they lost.  Without skipping a beat, Mary said with irritation, “The Yankees lost AND I have cancer?!  Will this day get any worse?”

That day was just the beginning of a painful journey that Mary and her family had to walk down.  I would be lying if I said I never questioned the wisdom of God in the process.  Nothing about it seemed fair or that any good could come from all the pain.  As I stand here today, I still have unanswered questions and no explanations as to why Mary had to experience what she did, or why her husband and kids have to pick up from here without her.  It hurts and is clouded with confusion, fear, and uncertainty.

But, there are a few things that I know to be true regardless of circumstances, and I am clinging to these promises with everything in me:

1) Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today and forever (Hebrews 13:8).  Though life has changed completely for Mary’s husband and kids, He has not changed.  He is constant and His promises sure.
2) His thoughts and ways are above ours.  Isaiah 55:8-9 says, “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.”  Though we are taken by surprise, He is not.  Nothing happens outside His allowing it and even in these painful circumstances, He has a purpose and plan beyond what our limited minds can see or understand. He is still on his throne, reigning over all.
3) The moment Mary left this earth, she saw Jesus face to face.  He wiped every tear from her eyes and all earthly pain and suffering was erased.  For those who have come to Christ and accepted His forgiveness for sins, this eternal life with Him is a guarantee.
4) Mary has left her kids in the care of their Heavenly Father who loves them more than any of us ever could, even Mary.  He has promised that He will never leave or forsake them (Heb. 13:5) and He will meet their every need (Phil. 4:19)

My heart aches and the human part of me would do anything to have her back here.  But, I know she’s standing in the presence of her Creator and Savior and wouldn’t want to leave that place of indescribable beauty and perfect peace.  Someday, we’ll see her again and worship God with her.  But, until then, there are a few things I want to say to those for whom my heart is most burdened.

To Butch:  You don’t have to walk this alone.  Every person in this room is here as a support and comfort to you and the boys.  But, we will fail a time or two and that is why your Heavenly Father is holding your hand every step of the way, upholding you in a way none of us can.  Though it seems unbearable at times, He has promised to never give you more than you can handle and will give you supernatural strength when you feel most weak.  2 Corinthians 12:9 says, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.”
To Brenden: I’ve watched you grow from a silly little Kindergartener to a mature young man who loves the Lord.  Keep seeking Him, running to Him with your fear and pain and know that you and Nik are just as much nephews to me as Zach. I think God has big plans for your life and I know that the unimaginable hurt you are feeling will not be wasted by Him.

To Nik: I still remember visiting the hospital when you were born and every time I’ve babysat you since.  I know you’re experiencing this hurt in a different way, but I’m praying you turn to Jesus to meet your every need, I know that’s what your mom wanted for you more than anything else.

To my sister Wendy: I know you’ve lost a friend in Mary that is irreplaceable.  I know your heart breaks as a mother.  I know it feels unbearable at times.  But, I know our God is big enough to mend your heart in time and I know He will use you to meet needs in the lives of Mary’s kids in ways that no one else can.  You have been a faithful and loving friend to Mary since day one.  God used you to bring Mary to Jesus Christ.  Without your influence in her life, this story would look entirely different.

To my nephew Zach: You have loved Brenden well.  You’ve cried with him, laughed with him and stood by his side as he’s faced the most difficult moments of his life.  The times I’ve had with you and Brenden in car rides to the hospital are times I will remember forever.  Brenden will need your friendship now more than ever and I can’t stop praising God enough for the maturity you both have for your young age.

To the rest of Mary’s friends and family:  I know you have all lost someone very dear to your heart, someone whose life changed yours.  I know that nothing would make Mary happier than to know that you will be with her again for eternity.  It’s never too late to admit your need for the forgiveness of Jesus Christ and surrender your life to Him.  Mary’s life was transformed by that forgiveness and yours can be too.  Mary will always be missed.  But, for those of us who know Christ, we can have full confidence that we will one day see her again.

Every one here today had the privilege of experiencing life with Mary in some way.  The pain we’re experiencing is a reminder that this world is not our home, we were created for another, better world, void of pain and suffering.  We eagerly await the day that Mary is experiencing as we speak—where we will be free of pain and standing in the presence of our Creator; where every wrong will be made right and the eternal weight of glory will far outweigh the hurt of this world.  Until that day, we will cling to Him, praising Him for those he places in our lives who give us a small glimpse of who He is—those like Mary McKarge.