A Story, we all have a story. There is a part of my story I don’t share very often. Mostly because it was hard, is hard. When sin touches your life in a profound way, but it is not your own or that of a family member, an unexpected season of wrestling comes. Sin is the black thread woven in our tapestry of life. Longingly, we desire to avoid it, but that impossibility does not exist in this fallen world. Through the weaving of these dark seasons, we understand the contrast of just how bright the others can be.
It was a Tuesday in November, almost 15 years ago. With my husband off traveling on business, I had piled my 4 kids into the car for a trip to Costco for a few groceries and dinner. We returned home with instructions for them to get ready for bed…pajamas, teeth and then read until I came up. The home phone was ringing as I unlocked the door. I had forgotten my cell on the counter. Kids hustled up the stairs as I answered. My friend from back home was calling. We had moved just 3 short months ago and my heart always rejoiced when I saw familiar numbers on the caller id.
My greeting disguised the tiredness and loneliness I had been feeling since the move. Her greeting was somber and serious. She asked me if I was sitting down, I lied and said yes as I put a few more things in the refrigerator. As she started to relay the reason for her call, I stopped and planted myself on the stairs. My world was changing with each word.
A mutual friend was missing, along with her 6 year-old daughter. The sheriff and deputies were there. Her husband had come home to find them gone…things were disheveled. Her car was there, but they were not. And, there was blood, too much blood.
My mind was reeling. What should I do? She told me she would call again when there was more information. The call ended. I did the only thing I could think of to do, call my brother-in-law for more information. He was our pastor, their pastor—he would know more, I was sure. Upon answering, he asked me to hold on a moment, they were on a date night at the movies and needed to step out. I stumbled through asking if he had heard, what was happening, and did he know more? Not many words were needed to understand I was providing all the information he had. The call ended.
Emotions were flooding and I tried to find some anchor of hope to hold on to amidst the confusion. Calling up to my oldest daughter, I asked her to tuck the others in as I needed to leave for a bit, but would be back. I drove away before my tears started flowing. My car had nowhere to go, no friend’s house to park at, no family to turn towards. I drove towards the only place I could think of to seek comfort—church. With no one there, I exited my car and sat beneath the arched breezeway leaning against a pillar, hoping it would support me when I felt no support. Trying several times to call my husband without success, knowing he was flying home that very evening, I began to weep. What was happening? What had happened?
After a few quick phone calls from back home, I pulled myself together. I needed to go home, not leave the kids alone. Upon returning, I went to my room, grabbed my Bible and sat on the floor…frozen emotions, frozen time. My husband arrived late. I shared the little I knew and we tried to go to bed, hoping to know more in the morning. There would be little sleep until I learned something. After hours of tossing, I slid out of bed; sprawled on the floor, I sobbed uncontrollably as the reality before me set in—this was not going to turn out like I wanted.
When sin touches our life, things begin to change and they rarely turn out like we want. The darkness shrouds our ability to see the hope set before us. We begin to wrestle with realities we have never dreamed of and nightmares we never wanted to have. There is no way to communicate the slowness of time as days, weeks and months passed with no clue where they were. Numerous trips home, hundreds of phone calls, and still more tears in the uncertainty. Wrestling out the hurt, the fear, the waiting; yet left with the unknown.
This was a season, a long season, of dark thread being woven into my tapestry. Day after day, I clung to the only light I could hope to illuminate the situation—Jesus. With what little energy I had, I read His Word. Longing for answers and understanding, in what was so senseless. Some answers we will just never receive this side of eternity.
There is more to this story. Her body was found. Her daughter was not. There was a trial. Her husband went to prison. Lives were shattered. Questions still remain. However, what you really need to know is she LOVED Jesus. She LOVED her family. She LOVED those God brought into her life. She PRAYED often. She PRAYED hard. She STUDIED His Word. She ENCOURAGED everyone she met. She ENCOURAGED me. She LIVED to honor Him. She LIVED the days allotted to her. She IS gone. She IS missed. She IS remembered.
My life was changed both by knowing her and by losing her. I find it hard to believe it has been 15 years next week. As I share, it is as fresh as the year it happened. I am thankful for the bright threads of her presence. The dark threads will also forever be in my tapestry. Together, they will eternally enhance the beauty of what the Weaver is creating of my life.
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