Archive | Julia

The day has come: the day of parting.  Eric is back at work, my dad is back at work, Emily will work from home for the remaining two weeks of her internship.  I am finishing last-minute errands and tasks (such as burning CDs of my sister Julia’s favorite music) and then at 6pm tonight Lena and I will leave for Sicily.  My mother is savoring time with each of us before life takes on its new pattern.

I honestly feel like our whole family is being carried along, held in protective arms, so that even while walking through or past Julia’s room I feel only a gentle sense of missing her and like there is a pillow to lean into protecting me from hard, sharp grief.  More than ever any previous time in my life, Jesus gets all the credit for anything beautiful you have seen in our family.  We will all claim this!

We have loved this week together as a family, at home, with no other obligations and only rest and quiet time together.   We have been studying the Word together each day, remembering and healing, laughing, cooking, going out to eat, watching movies every night, playing with Lena, and learning to navigate life as a new family without our giggliest member.  This week has been balm on our wounds.  Do you know that part in The Lion, Witch, and the Wardrobe where Aslan gives Lucy that cordial that she can pour on wounds and they heal right up?  Well, our wounds aren’t healed yet–and probably won’t completely heal this side of heaven–but Jesus really has been pouring His mercy upon us and strengthening us for the road ahead.

And so today here we go, back out into the fray.  Please keep us in your prayers.

The day has come: the day of parting.  Eric is back at work, my dad is back at work, Emily will work from home for the remaining two weeks of her internship.  I am finishing last-minute errands and tasks (such as burning CDs of my sister Julia’s favorite music) and then at 6pm tonight Lena and I will leave for Sicily.  My mother is savoring time with each of us before life takes on its new pattern.

I honestly feel like our whole family is being carried along, held in protective arms, so that even while walking through or past Julia’s room I feel only a gentle sense of missing her and like there is a pillow to lean into protecting me from hard, sharp grief.  More than ever any previous time in my life, Jesus gets all the credit for anything beautiful you have seen in our family.  We will all claim this!

We have loved this week together as a family, at home, with no other obligations and only rest and quiet time together.   We have been studying the Word together each day, remembering and healing, laughing, cooking, going out to eat, watching movies every night, playing with Lena, and learning to navigate life as a new family without our giggliest member.  This week has been balm on our wounds.  Do you know that part in The Lion, Witch, and the Wardrobe where Aslan gives Lucy that cordial that she can pour on wounds and they heal right up?  Well, our wounds aren’t healed yet–and probably won’t completely heal this side of heaven–but Jesus really has been pouring His mercy upon us and strengthening us for the road ahead.

And so today here we go, back out into the fray.  Please keep us in your prayers.

Ever since I first heard the hymn “I Asked the Lord” at Swiss L’Abri, I have loved it, even though it promises difficult things for me.  You can find the whole hymn (with words and the music that I most love from Indelible Grace) here in this YouTube video.

In this hymn, and in my life right now, I am reminded of God’s ultimate purpose: to be glorified in us so we might truly find our only joy in Him.  His goal is not to give us a happy life, or a big and beautiful and all-present family, or to let us be well-fed and unmolested, or to provide for us financially.  He does give good gifts to His children because He loves us, but those are His mercies.  His real goal with us is to bring us to a place in this earth where we truly do find our all in Him.  And He has chosen, at long last, to truly bring my family to that place, with Julia’s death.  Our only joy left in our aching hearts is Jesus Himself.

I feel like He’s been doing this with my little Elliott&Becca family since we got married… actually, He’s been doing it liberally to us.  (Maybe sometime I’ll go into this as well.)  But He hasn’t touched my original family that much over the years besides the general stresses of life and given us the deaths we expected in their time (my ailing grandmother, our old dog).  Then, just last fall, a dear friend unexpectedly died last fall; Emily Roe felt like a part of our family, and she was the nearest thing we had to a sister outside of our own family.  But Julia was our family, she was our sister.  If we wanted to ask, as the author of this hymn does, for God to help us grow in Him, we would have been stunned that God would ask so very much of us.  Julia’s death is above and beyond anything we could have imagined.  He took away a sister, a daughter, a best friend.  What a painful, life-leaching, agonizing way to bring us to find joy in only Jesus!  I hope and pray with all my heart that we will find our all in Him, both now and in the many other trials that surely await us later (or sooner) in life.  “He who promised is faithful”: this is the verse on Emily Roe’s grave, and this we must cling to.

I am still struck at random times–and will be for months and maybe years, I think–that Booie is gone.  We were watching Anne of Avonlea the other night and I let my mind wander away from the movie for a moment.  And wham, there it was, this overwhelming reality.  Booie is dead.  Booie is gone.  Forever.  I feel like this is a wall that I turn and run into multiple times a day.  We are doing ordinary things in our same house in the same way we have been doing these things for years, like all relaxing on couches watching an old favorite movie… but a member of our family is gone for the rest of our time on earth.  How can this be?  How can this be reality?  What has happened to us?

“That thou may’st seek thy all in Me…. that thou may’st seek thy all in Me…”

Ever since I first heard the hymn “I Asked the Lord” at Swiss L’Abri, I have loved it, even though it promises difficult things for me.  You can find the whole hymn (with words and the music that I most love from Indelible Grace) here in this YouTube video.

In this hymn, and in my life right now, I am reminded of God’s ultimate purpose: to be glorified in us so we might truly find our only joy in Him.  His goal is not to give us a happy life, or a big and beautiful and all-present family, or to let us be well-fed and unmolested, or to provide for us financially.  He does give good gifts to His children because He loves us, but those are His mercies.  His real goal with us is to bring us to a place in this earth where we truly do find our all in Him.  And He has chosen, at long last, to truly bring my family to that place, with Julia’s death.  Our only joy left in our aching hearts is Jesus Himself.

I feel like He’s been doing this with my little Elliott&Becca family since we got married… actually, He’s been doing it liberally to us.  (Maybe sometime I’ll go into this as well.)  But He hasn’t touched my original family that much over the years besides the general stresses of life and given us the deaths we expected in their time (my ailing grandmother, our old dog).  Then, just last fall, a dear friend unexpectedly died last fall; Emily Roe felt like a part of our family, and she was the nearest thing we had to a sister outside of our own family.  But Julia was our family, she was our sister.  If we wanted to ask, as the author of this hymn does, for God to help us grow in Him, we would have been stunned that God would ask so very much of us.  Julia’s death is above and beyond anything we could have imagined.  He took away a sister, a daughter, a best friend.  What a painful, life-leaching, agonizing way to bring us to find joy in only Jesus!  I hope and pray with all my heart that we will find our all in Him, both now and in the many other trials that surely await us later (or sooner) in life.  “He who promised is faithful”: this is the verse on Emily Roe’s grave, and this we must cling to.

I am still struck at random times–and will be for months and maybe years, I think–that Booie is gone.  We were watching Anne of Avonlea the other night and I let my mind wander away from the movie for a moment.  And wham, there it was, this overwhelming reality.  Booie is dead.  Booie is gone.  Forever.  I feel like this is a wall that I turn and run into multiple times a day.  We are doing ordinary things in our same house in the same way we have been doing these things for years, like all relaxing on couches watching an old favorite movie… but a member of our family is gone for the rest of our time on earth.  How can this be?  How can this be reality?  What has happened to us?

“That thou may’st seek thy all in Me…. that thou may’st seek thy all in Me…”

Things are so much quieter this week than last week.  The extended family dispersed slowly after Saturday, Elliott returned to work in Sicily, my grandparents drove home to Missouri, the visits from friends are tapering off.  The five remaining members of my family are all at home: Eric, Emily, and Daddy are taking time off work; Lena and I are here until next Monday; and my mom is savoring all of us being at home.  We are muddling through, grieving the lost in the land of the living.

I wrote this email to Elliott last night after our first day alone as a family.  He thought it captured well what life is like for us now and what we are feeling.

Dearest boy of mine,

Well, another day is done.  It was the first without you in awhile, and I missed you….  I am so glad you are back safe and sound, but I wish we didn’t have to endure separation in this time.

We finished Anne of Green Gables tonight.  So good, and such a blessed distraction.  My parents were visiting Prince Edward Island when they got the news about Booie.  I do want to see it with you, so we’ll see if my family is ready to part with it so that I can bring it back with me.  If not then, then in October.  I am sure we’ll start Anne of Avonlea tomorrow or the day after.

My mom and I took a walk with Lena this afternoon.  Lena was being so fussy and grouchy and I think it was because she had been cooped up inside for so long.  We walked down the street and then decided to go to the cemetery and visit Booie’s grave.  It was an easy 10-minute walk; my mom showed me a new cut-through that’s safer than the one I’ve used with Sona [our dog who died in March] in the past to go visit Kim [Roe]’s grave.  (Now there are two more graves to visit on that hill–Booie’s and Emily Roe’s–and no Sona to walk with.)  It was a little sad to see Booie’s grave, with the dry brownish-red dirt on top of it and the faded flowers, somewhat dirty stuffed animals, and little trinkets people had left.  Someone had put an orchid there, and I suggested my mom take it home and love it, as it will die in a couple of days in this sun, but she wanted to leave it there.  We spent awhile sitting and talking about grief–“is there a difference between grieving and wallowing?” my mom asked–and then walked over to Kim and Emily’s graves (just about 20 feet apart) and then down the hill a little bit.  Lena was soo delighted as she walked down the pavement in her little bare feet.  She loved the downhill slope because she could get some speed up and was babbling delightedly to us, excitedly pointing out squirrels, and so glad to be outside and walking around.  We’ll have to come back with her, of course.

I took a trip to Safeway to get some stuff for my family this evening: bananas, Mini Wheats, Diet Coke, etc.  I sort of forgot that Booie worked in that Safeway.  Driving up in the car she used to drive, walking past the Starbucks in the store where she used to work (where I came for her drinks last summer), and wandering down the aisles she used to walk down in her uniform… it was a little sadder than I’d expected.  I got very introspective and sad on the way home, as I did last night while driving home from dropping you off at the airport.  I guess I’m rarely alone now and haven’t been that quietly reflective or allowed myself to just think about her, about what we’re missing, about life without her, about what she would be doing if she were right here right now, about what she would be saying about this song on the radio, about what she would have just eaten or just sang or just done.  I drove by her grave on my own on the way home (partly because Em was out on a run when I left and I wanted to comfort her there if she was there) and just sat in the car for a moment alone and stared at the grave.  How could this all have happened so fast?  How could my little sister be under the ground there?  How could those already-wilted flowers be on Booie’s grave? 

Sad thoughts for a Monday night.  We have such ups and downs.  Just a few minutes ago I could hear Eric laughing downstairs with my parents as he related a story; meanwhile Em and I were dangling my piece of dental floss for the cat and laughing at her antics.  Life is so normal sometimes, and yet so broken and foreign and unbelievable.  How will we carry on?  What will we look like in 3 weeks, 9 months, 2 years?  Will we still be cheerful, still be close, still be deeply and patiently and trustingly reliant upon Christ, every one of us?  Will we be worse or better for this terrible, wearing trial?  What will we be as a family, as individuals, as friends, as future and current spouses, as Christians?  I have so many fears and hopes, all tangled together, as I pray for goodness to come out of this horrible sadness.

Please keep praying and praying.  We need it more than ever.  God helped us set such a good tone last week for our family, each other, the memorial service, our friends, and for Booie.  Now we need to set a good tune for ourselves for the rest of our lives.  “Good tune” sounds so trite, but we must go on, somehow, and we want to go on well.

Yours,

B