Today, I'm remembering an awful, tragic day a year ago. And thinking about the journey since. It was a year ago today, May 21, 2008, that for reasons only God can explain Maria Sue Chapman left this earth.
I haven't pondered aloud for awhile here... I hope you don't mind if I share some personal thoughts today. When I lost my Dad as a teenager, on the one year anniversary of his death someone gave me a piece of advice. They said not to treat the date as special. They said it's Just one more day further away from the hard day that he died. Tomorrow is just day 366. As the years have gone by I've become more and more convinced that in my opinion that was very, very bad counsel.
I think the anniversary of losing someone you love is very important. It is sacred. It is special. It needs to be remembered. It needs to be commemorated.
well, that's my opinion. Grief is such a slippery and grey and personal thing. Perhaps letting the person grieving lead the way is best.
This year has again reminded me that sometimes the best thing you can do for a person struggling through the dark days of grief... is to just be with them. Any advice you offer them, while it might be well meaning... may not apply to them. Pray diligently about anything you may say. And when you're not certain what to say, don't avoid them, and do pray for them. Just praying... well, there should be no Just in front of the word praying. It is so powerful. And just BEing with them. These are things I've watched the Chapmans cherish this year.
And so you're likely here today because you remember. You remember where you were when you heard. You remember how we made promises to ourselves about our loved ones. You remember how we said we would pray for this family. And you have been so faithful to pray. And indeed it is why this family is still breathing and able to journey on.
As I write this, it was still "normal" this time last year. I needed to talk to Steven about ministry and career things... but his crazy schedule was preventing it. We traded calls several times that day until we connected just before 5p. A few minutes later... the world changed.
I miss how it was. I. Miss. How. It. Was.
If you've seen him perform live since the tragedy, have you noticed that Steven now nods his head "yes" when sings live the line in "Miracle of the Moment" "because we don't have a time machine. and even if we did, would we really want to use it, would we really want to go change everything?" I'm pretty sure I personally know about 100 people who would change this day last year. I would be in line ready to risk whatever destiny outcome changes there might be.
And yet, at the same time... I don't believe God turned His head when Maria was killed in the accident. I trust in an all wise God. I can't explain Him sometimes. I don't like His actions or inaction sometimes. I've got some serious questions for Him my first 5 minutes in heaven. And yet... I trust Him.
And in Steven and Mary Beth's words, now that they as a family have stood at the door of eternity... they are more sure than ever that the Gospel is true. That when you go to the darkest, deepest, ugliest place... to the Very Bottom. God is there. He is still there with you. That it's all true. All the things that Steven has written and sung about all these years, it's true.
As someone who has been honored to walk alongside an extended family and circle of the Chapman's friends I have watched them closely. The words I've just typed aren't things they just say for interviews or for people at concerts or at church. They also say them when no one else is around... on planes to California with no one in the seat next to us, in their living room to each other, and on buses alone in the back lounge in the dark of night. They believe it, they are living it. Their new normal.
The family is marking the day with a small gathering, and in advance I thank you all for your prayers for them today and for the days ahead. As a wise poet once said... Though Maria is... "We are not Home yet. So let us journey on."
