Not Again!

Not Again!

At the age of fifteen, I first felt the pain of death. My oldest brother some five years my senior died in a senseless traffic accident. That Thanksgiving morning after church I tossed the football with my brother Phil in a cow pasture when Mom appeared at the door of our house across the country road calling to us. We could tell from her voice something terrible had happened. I couldn’t make out what she was saying except, “I think he is dead!”

“Who?” I wondered. Had Dad fallen down the stairs or something? Phil and I rushed across the street and burst into the house. Dad was on the phone. Tears streamed down his weathered face. Two men—celebrating the holiday—drinking while driving—crashed into the car in which brother Dave was a passenger.

During the days that followed it seemed the sun hid from view. The long winter set in as it does in these mountains. But I discovered that life goes on, which is something people who are not in a present state of sorrow often say– meant to comfort, but it does not. However, at this time I discovered that my parents’ faith in Jesus was more than words. They continued to worship their Savior, despite their tremendous loss.

Dad, a retired Air Force sergeant, though toughened by his years in the military, found the strength to express his faith through poetry, a newly discovered gift. He used it to convey his feelings at the loss of his oldest son, one who had gone to college at age sixteen, had excelled and had lined up his first step in his career upon graduation. Dad felt devastated, but our loving heavenly Father lifted him up carrying him through the dark days.

And life did go on. My brother Phil graduated high school, then college, married his childhood sweetheart and began serving in a Christian ministry just north of New York City. I followed to the same college my brothers had attended—met Nancy, the godly woman with whom I now share my life, then served in the same ministry as brother Phil.

In the course of time, my parents became grandparents. Life had gone on and despite the grief of their loss, it was good. Then Dad became overcome by an unusual condition. While Dad worked on an airplane engine, the young Airman assisting him hit the ignition switch causing the engine to turn over. Its propeller hit Dad in the lower back throwing him across the hanger. Suffering no more than a severe bruise he went back to work unaware that the trauma caused damage to his spinal column which over a period of several years left him in a wheelchair. On another notable Thanksgiving weekend, he succumbed to a stroke. His suffering on this earth had come to an end. I tried to be strong for Mom, held my feelings in until they burst out and I kicked a hole in the wall of our apartment. But through it all we had our faith and my dad’s poems for comfort.

In the years that followed, more grandchildren came for Mom who enjoyed her role. She made most of her time that she could with them hindered by distance. I lived an hour and a half away and my brother moved to Virginia to attend seminary. When I followed Phil to Lynchburg Mom drove the ten hours to see us. She loved her grandchildren, especially her granddaughters sharing her love for cooking and sewing. When Phil graduated, he and his family moved back north. They moved in with Mom. Things were looking up.

One warm June afternoon Mom washed up after working in her garden. My sister-in-law heard a crash and discovered her on the bathroom floor—a stroke. She died a week later. Once again, the specter of death had interfered with our lives, but God gave us comfort and we continued on.

Five years later I returned with my family to our mountains, and we moved in next door to Phil. Those were good years. My brother and I developed a closeness we had not known earlier in our lives. He was my friend, my confidant. We had grown up together and had overcome many of the same griefs. He helped with the set up of Nancy’s and my double-wide mobile home and helped us pack up when we made a move to the Philadelphia area. But then his personality changed. He began acting erratically—a brain tumor. Again, death came to disrupt our lives.

It’s been twenty-five years since Phil passed. Life still goes on Our children have grown. Nancy and I are enjoying the privilege of sharing in the lives of our grandchildren—four close by and three out of state. They have been such a joy to us—just watching them grow. It seemed that the pain of death was behind us for the time being.

This past Winter I had a brush with my own mortality. Suffering excruciating pain I visited the surgeon who I had seen seven years before. He found evidence of a growth in my colon–anxious moments—surgery—then the “all clear”—growth benign.  I thanked God for the pain that led to the discovery of this potentially life-threatening condition.

All through the years I have learned much about the goodness of God. At this point in life, it seemed the specter of death was behind me, but now tragedy has struck again. Our thirteen-year-old granddaughter—an ATV ride with her brother—an overturning—in an instant our lives were changed. The words of “Why, Lord?” again crossed our lips. “She was so full of life and such a joy to her parents.”

Now the thoughts of “What if?” torture us. “What if Nancy had gotten there a half hour sooner? What if there had been a better cell signal to get help? What if… What if…?” Once again, I deal with grief, this time complicated because of the suffering of my daughter and son-in-law whom I hold most dear. I think, “Lord, not again.”

As I pen these thoughts, I am reminded that God never intended me to bear my burden of grief alone. Death has surrounded Mankind since The Garden of Eden. We try not to think about it but it will not go away. We want to put it in its place—take only the old and feeble—a mercy—but not the young. However, there it is. We question God Who answers in His Word, “I will never leave you nor forsake you. I love you and sent My Son to die for you so that death will be done away with once and for all.”

We have had glimpses through our tears of God’s greater plan in all of this—a great reaching out from our community—a strong testimony in our granddaughter’s prayer journal—words of salvation at the celebration of her life.

Yet our hearts ache—as they should. But we are not as those without hope. An empty tomb gives evidence that Jesus rose from death. Our great enemy has been conquered. Furthermore, Our Lord is coming and maybe soon. Those of us who remain will rise to meet Him, behind those who have gone before in death. 1 Corinthians 15:55-57 O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? 56The sting of death is sin; and the strength of sin is the law. 57But thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.

Even so, Lord Jesus, come.