Choosing to SEE

by Mary Beth Chapman

  A couple of people actually told me they could sympathize with our grief because their dog or cat had been hit by a car.

  Really?

  There were also expressions of great encouragement. One card that helped Steven and me a lot came from Greg Laurie, our friend who is a pastor and evangelist in Southern California.

  Greg wasn’t able to come to the visitation, but he wrote to encourage us that Maria was a far bigger part of our future than our past. We’d known her for a few years down here . . . but we would be spending eternity with her soon. The sad irony is that Greg would lose his own son in a terrible car accident just two months after Maria died.

  At the visitation, I was in a daze, seeing people and scenes like it was a movie. I saw Amy Grant come in at the same time we did. I don’t remember words, just a big platter of cookies (for the children’s room) and her endearing Amy smile, full of compassion for our family. I was told later that she sat quietly in the back for a long time, alone, praying.

  I saw our Show Hope partners from China, Robin and Joyce Hill. They had flown in from Beijing. I saw Jon Rivers, the “Countdown Magazine” radio host, and his wife Sherry. They’d adopted from China as a result of our story and had come up from Texas to be with us. I saw the staff of Show Hope. Teachers from Maria’s preschool. Friends from church, from our neighborhood, from everywhere.

  We were overwhelmed by the outpouring of support. The line of friends went on and on . . . and finally, seeing how exhausted Steven and I were, Jim Houser and Dan Raines made the difficult decision to end the line. They invited everyone left in line into the sanctuary, and Steven spoke to them all at once, thanking them for their love and support, asking everyone to continue to pray for us as our names came to mind.

  Meanwhile, Will was in a separate room where his buddies from school could come see him but he wouldn’t have to stand up in front and hear the comments, no matter how kind people thought they were being. It was an unusual, special time for these soon-to-be senior boys, and Will was actually able to encourage some of them. God was already using our son – and his brokenness – to minister to his friends.

  It was very late when we left the church on Friday night. I was one of the last to leave. I deliberately walked from flower arrangement to flower arrangement by myself, reading the cards and thinking about the friends who had sent them.

  One of Caleb’s and Will’s good buddies, Trevor, was right there as well, quietly loading arrangements to take to the house or the burial site or wherever.

  Even in my sad daze, his humble help touched my heart.

  On Saturday morning we went to the funeral home, where our extended family and close friends would gather for a private time with the casket open. We’d say goodbye to Maria, then have the memorial service in the afternoon, followed by a private burial.

  I felt like I was on the outside looking in, more of an observer than a participant.

  It seemed so random, walking toward a tiny white casket that held our beautiful flower girl. Friends had spent hours enlarging pictures of Maria and framing them; they had been placed all around her casket. There was Maria as a ballerina, as a giggling baby, as a princess . . . so many beautiful, funny, happy times. I wept over a little life that would no longer make memories for her mama! The ache was almost more than I could bear.

  Family and friends walked in slowly, so full of sorrow and yet full of support. They came up to the casket and wept with us.

  None of us wanted to leave. Shaoey and Stevey Joy both had written letters to their sister, and now they put them in her “box,” as they called it. The others followed suit. (The letters were actually copies, as I wanted to keep the originals.)

  We also tucked in some Tinker Bell wings, one of Maria’s favorite Tinker Bell dolls, and the tutu and ballet slippers that she would have worn in her upcoming recital. (Stevey Joy would, in fact, dance without her sister just six days later, in an auditorium right across the street from the emergency room where Maria was taken. Her teacher would award her with a flower at the end of the recital, for being the smallest – and the bravest – dancer there.)

  My brother Jim is an art teacher. Whenever the kids were together, they would all line up for Sharpie marker tattoos from Uncle Jim. Steven always hated the girls getting them, because they took so long to wear off.

  But today, when Jim pulled out his markers and asked to draw one last tattoo for Maria, Steven agreed. Maria loved it when Uncle Jim would give everyone Sharpie tattoos, especially her.

  Jim took his markers and drew three ladybugs to represent Shaoey, Stevey Joy, and Maria. We all cried as he took his time, doing one last masterpiece on his niece.

  Later, after the memorial service, all the little ones waited patiently in line for Jim to draw the same tattoo on their arms. (And even later than that, my six-foot-four-inch brother would get the same ladybug tattoo on his arm, but his was the real deal.)

  Our pastor Scotty had a counselor lingering in the back of the viewing room, just in case Will Franklin needed someone. There was also a slide show being shown in the back so that the cousins could watch some of Maria’s funnier moments.

  Then slowly, one by one, family and friends left. Then Steven and I were left alone to say a final goodbye to our little girl, whose face we would never see again until eternity. I gripped the side of the casket and fell to my knees as Steven held on to me. We cried and prayed, kissed her goodbye, and walked out of the room.

  We had no sense of time. We continued to stay at the Ander-sons’ home, and they took such good care of us. But it was as if the chronological passage of minutes ceased to exist in our world; random, disjointed events were happening, but everything seemed out of order. In the midst of our grief and struggles, we were also living with an experience of special grace . . . a sense of God’s presence, as if the veil between the temporal and the eternal had been lifted.

  I believe this is because of the prayers of hundreds of thousands of people around the world who had heard about the accident and were lifting us up before God. We felt a supernatural sense of God holding us. We had a heightened awareness of what really mattered, a clearer vision of eternal things that we normally could not see. We were desperate for God. The Bible was like oxygen for us as we searched for comfort within its pages.

  At one point, Caleb had been talking with a friend down at the Andersons’ dock, and he came running up to Steven, a fire blazing in his eyes.

  “I see it, I get it,” he shouted. “God is real and Maria is with Him and we’re going to be there. . . . Satan doesn’t want us to be able to see it this clearly, because if we did we’d be so dangerous for God!”

  As we planned Maria’s memorial service, I asked Steven if Matt Redman could be there and sing some of our favorite worship songs, “Blessed Be the Name of the Lord” and “Never Let Go.” Steven called Matt on the off chance he was in the U.S., since he lived in England at the time.

  When Steven’s call came, Matt was standing in line at the Atlanta airport, getting ready to board a flight back to the U.K. He walked away from his flight and drove to Franklin. He not only sang the worship songs, but also a song that he and Steven had written together just four months earlier to mourn the stillborn death of a friend’s baby. Now . . . sad, sweet irony . . . he would sing those words for our sweet Maria. When I heard that Matt was coming to be part of the service, I was overwhelmed by gratitude and grace. His was a true gift that I will never be able to repay.

  At the same time we were experiencing God’s grace through our friends and the sweetness of the Holy Spirit’s presence, we were also just plain getting beat up by grief, sometimes when we least expected it.

  At the Andersons’, someone brought us a bunch of yeast rolls from our favorite home cookin’ place, Barbara’s. As soon as Steven saw them, he flashed back to a night or two before the accident, when he had taken the little girls to eat at Barbara’s.

  As I’ve said, Maria loved food, and she loved Barbara’s yeast rolls
and homemade butter. She’d spread a thick layer of butter on a roll and then lick it off . . . then she’d spread more butter on the roll and lick that off . . . then she’d stick her finger in the pats of butter and lick that off. We’d always tell her to stop eating all that butter. It wasn’t good for her.

  But now, as he looked at the rolls, Steven started to sob. “Why didn’t I just let her have all the butter she wanted?” he cried.

  We both knew the answer to that. He was simply trying to parent her well. But the pain was so strange, so huge, set off by a thousand ordinary memories every time we turned around.

  And we had only just begun our long, painful journey of grief.

  Stevey Joy’s letter to Maria

  I’m sad you had to leave & sad you left earth to go to heaven. Melissa misses you. Our Mommy & Daddy love you so much.

  I want Jesus to take good care of my sister. Me & Maria played together a lot. Me and Maria talk about when we die & go to heaven & how our shells will have to be buried. I love you.

  Have fun with Jesus, Maria!

  Love, Sissy

  Shaoey’s letter to Maria

  Dear Jesus and Maria

  I want you to know that Maria’s stuffed animals are going to be packed away and put in the attic. But we found your last flower picture and on the front you wrote “SEE” and a butterfly. Dad cryed because you are special to him and all of us. Enjoy Heaven. I will see you soon but not too soon. I will come to you. I hear the roads are made of gold and the throne of God waits for everyone who believes. When you see that I am coming wait for me at the gate and pray for Will he has been sobbing so has Mom and Dad. I hope I see you soon but not too soon.

  Love,

  Shaoey

  Will’s letter to Maria

  I Love you so much! I’m so sorry, and if I could go back in time I would change it so fast and I know I would have seen you. I’m sorry! How’s it going up there in Heaven? I bet it’s pretty unbelievable, and I just wish I could see the incredible smile on your face. I’m having a pretty stinkin hard time down here and it’s going to be so hard and miserable, but I know ur looking down on me with God and you guys are just smiling at me. I just wish I could see you one more time or just see you running around and flying around. You’re a big bundle of joy Maria, and I’m so sorry for not seeing you. Oh, Man, I’m gonna need your prayers in the many many years to come b/c its not going to be easy!, and I’m gonna need you Maria. I can’t do it without you. I can’t, I can’t, I CAN’T29

  Will

  27

  Beauty Will Rise

  Out of these ashes

  Beauty will rise

  And we will dance among the ruins

  We will see it with our own eyes

  Out of these ashes

  Beauty will rise

  For we know joy is coming in the morning

  In the morning

  Beauty will rise

  “Beauty Will Rise”

  Words and music by

  Steven Curtis Chapman

  The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away;

  blessed be the name of the Lord.

  Job:1:21 ESV

  Selections from the Memorial Service Transcript

  Steven Curtis Chapman

  Thank you all for being here. . . . We know God has told us He is revealing Himself here in a profound way. [Inviting family members up to the podium.] You guys just share your heart. I’m going to let you tell how you knew Maria.

  Melissa Northup

  I had the privilege of taking care of the Chapmans’ beautiful daughters.

  Maria had an amazing spirit. She was love itself. She was laughter, silliness, passion, beauty, sweetness, and a determined little soul, a super funny soul and a little Curious George, so full of questions. She was so full of wonder, happiness, desire, detail, creativity. She was a giving, caring, cuddle bug who would snuggle for hours if you would let her. Sometimes at our little slumber parties, I would wake up with her as close as possible to me with her little hand somehow in mine, not knowing how it got there.

  I know it is true there is a time for sadness, but Maria would want us to be happy again, living with fullness of life like she did. Maria loved things that little girls do. She loved dressing up for princess balls, being a ballerina, being a bride in a pretend wedding, dancing and singing with Shaoey and Stevey in their Chapman sister band, and just playing pretend. She would always say, “Let’s pretend such and such . . . ’K?”

  Maria always asked me what was pretend and what was real. When talking about Jesus with her, it always made sense to her that Jesus was real. The greatest peace I have today, what helps me take one step at a time, is knowing where Maria is. This place called heaven is real, and Maria is there with her real King Jesus!

  Maria loved God’s creation. She loved smelling His flowers and picking bundles of them. She always loved God’s flying creatures. She loved ladybugs, and she loved God’s little birds. Sometimes when swinging – she loved to swing – she would pretend she was a birdie and ask if I could make her fly higher and higher.

  She noticed every butterfly that flew by, every dandelion that needed to be picked and blown so she could watch the fuzzy white pieces fly away.

  And if you knew Maria, it would be no surprise to see her running around with a pair of fairy wings on. And her funny Buzz Lightyear costume with his big ol’ wings.

  Now I have come to realize that Maria was created with a pair of wings on her heart. God had a plan to have her fly home to Him. Just like the plans He has for us to fly home one day too.

  Maria would want us to remember the verse Jesus spoke, “Let the little children come.” And she would want us to carry on her childlike faith, living this life as if we all had wings, longing to fly to Jesus.

  We are not home yet, and if we trust in Jesus like Maria did, we will find deep within our hearts a pair of wings He has waiting for us too. It makes me smile to think that Maria is getting to see those mighty angels’ wings . . . and I can hear her now asking if she can touch them.

  Megan Thompson

  Maria once told me that her favorite songs that Daddy sang were “Dive,” “The Great Adventure,” “Children of God,” and “Cinderella.” I can honestly say that Maria dove into life, learned what it’s like to be a child of God, felt like a Cinderella, and has lived the great adventure!

  Emily Chapman (now Richards)

  May 13th, just a few weeks ago, Maria turned five. Two days later, on May 15th, she graduated from preschool. And then two more days later, on May 17th – a week ago today – Tanner and I got engaged. We got engaged on an airplane; I couldn’t wait to call my family when I got off. I talked to the girls one by one, Shaoey, then Stevey, then precious Maria. And Maria asked me a question that the other two girls didn’t ask.

  She said, “Ooooh, yay, you’re getting married!” And then she asked, “What did you say?”

  And I told her, “I said ‘yes,’ you silly girl!”

  When we got home, Maria was the first to run up to me and she handed me this little happy engagement card that was done backwards, of course, with way too much glue, and she gave me a really big hug, and she said again, “What did you say when Tanner asked you to marry him?” I didn’t understand why she kept asking me that. I told her, “I said ‘yes!’ and I’m going to need you to be a flower girl on October 4, okay? We’ve got to start practicing!”

  In case you guys haven’t heard, Maria is being buried today in her flower girl dress. So she is a flower girl.

  In the midst of all the confusion and pain and grief that I don’t ever wish on any of you, God has brought comfort through little Ria’s words. Maria cared deeply about how I responded to the proposal. You see, Maria too had said yes to a glorious proposal in February this year, when she accepted Jesus.

  I woke up this morning asking the Lord for a Scripture to bring to you guys, and he brought me to Revelation 22:17. It says, “The Spirit and the bride say, ‘Come!’ And let the
one who hears say, ‘Come!’ And let the one who is thirsty come; let the one who desires take the water of life without price.”

  A proposal has been made through the death of Jesus Christ . . . and so in honor of Maria, I would like to ask each and every one of you: What did you say?

  Caleb Chapman

  “When the righteous cry for help, the Lord hears, and the Lord delivers them out of their troubles. The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit” (Ps. 34:17–18).

  All of our spirits here are really crushed, and I know a lot of y’alls’ are too. . . . Any of you that have walked through something like this know that it’s a new emotion and there’s nothing that can describe it. The only word I’ve been able to come up with is confusion. . . . We feel so many different things. We have joy and we have sadness, we feel loved and we feel lonely . . . but I have never been this confident in Jesus Christ. And I’ve never been this confident of heaven.

  The only analogy I can come up with is this: it’s like God is an abstract artist . . . and when you’re real close to a painting like this, it’s hard to focus, it’s blurred, and you can’t see what’s going on. You have to walk really far back, and then the whole painting comes into focus and you can see what the artist was doing.

  That’s what this experience is like for us. We’re just really, really close to this mess . . . but I think the farther we get away from it in time, the more we’re going to see this picture come into focus. Man, it’s a really big one too, so we’ll have to walk pretty far away.

  You know, I feel like as Dad held Maria, I held my brother. I held Will that day. We prayed for healing for Maria, but God healed her in a way that we didn’t like. But God is going to heal my brother in a way that I think we’re all going to like a lot.

  [At this point, people all over the sanctuary jumped to their feet, and soon seven hundred people were applauding in a standing ovation of praise to God and support for Will Franklin Chapman.]

  I just challenge you guys, nothing matters in this life except for relationships, especially with Jesus Christ. I know we’re coming from a bunch of different backgrounds, but I can tell you, because I’m in the midst of this, that Jesus is real, and man, He shines through some really, really dark places. So thank you everyone for supporting us. We love you guys.