July 11, 1993, at seven minutes after five in the morning, Dave and I backed out of the driveway in Port Angeles. My mother stood beside our car with her arm around Karen, only twenty-one years of age and newly graduated from college, and together they waved goodbye. Tears streaked down their faces.
I
choked on my own sobs. How could I survive four years without seeing them?
I
then entered into another type of grief. Before, I only imagined walking away
from the altars. (Don’t miss I could say “yes” to God, or I could say “no”). (See also Still wrestling down that elephant in the room and Assuming our love for God is enough and our grip on family and dreams is loose enough.)
The
time had come to live out the reality of it. I felt almost dead inside but, at
the same time, something in me whispered to God, I lift up this offering to
You. Please find it an acceptable sacrifice. Find in it a sweet aroma. (See
Philippians 4:18 and Exodus 29:18.)
We
were heading toward Dallas for pre-field meetings. That first morning in the
car, after the sun rose, I opened my favorite devotional book. To my surprise, my
precious Karen had lettered several Bible verses and slipped them into the book
on special dates.
For
August 11, the date of our flight out of the States, she wrote in her graceful
script, “Anyone who loves his father or mother more than me is not worthy of
me; anyone who loves his son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; and
anyone who does not take up his cross and follow me is not worthy of me.
Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake
will find it” (Matthew 10:37–39). (See photo below.)
On
the date of her birthday, she had written, “And everyone who has left houses or
brothers or sisters or father or mother or children or fields for my sake will
receive a hundred times as much and will inherit eternal life” (Matthew 19:29).
Inserted
at her brother Matt’s birthday, she’d written, “If anyone would come after me,
he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wants to
save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it.
What good will it be for a man if he gains the whole world but forfeits his
soul?” (Matthew 16:24–26).
When
I read those words in Karen’s handwriting, I sensed that she had placed her
parents upon the altar, lifted us up before God, had gone through her own
grieving, and in the process had come to some understanding of those verses’
meanings. (from Chapter 2, Grandma’s Letters From Africa)
Words can’t capture the utter rawness,
the unspeakable ravages of dying to oneself
in order to walk away from one’s children,
even when we do it because God is asking that of us.
Words can’t capture the utter rawness,
the unspeakable ravages of what Karen
and her brother Matt experienced
in order to let go of their parents and, instead,
to offer only their
benedictions and love.
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