Choosing to SEE

by Mary Beth Chapman

  Yes, our home was the site where Maria was accidentally hit by a car and left this earth . . . but even though that all-consuming, terrible thing had happened here, our home was also a place of powerful, happy memories. This was the place where God had met us time and time again; He had not been looking the other way on May 21.

  So, less than five months after Maria suddenly went to heaven right from our driveway, our home was to be the site of Emily Elizabeth Chapman’s wedding celebration.

  We missed Maria, and our hearts were sad . . . but we also laughed with the most powerful sense of joy, the kind of joy that thrusts its way right up through sorrow. We knew that something powerful was happening at our home on this day.

  I know that Satan took a massive swing at our entire family on May 21 and thought he was going to destroy us for good. So October 4 was not just a good day, it was a victorious day! God overwhelmed us with a joy that eased our sorrow and allowed us to see that, out of this horrible story, there were redemptive pieces already being written by the Healer of all wounds.

  Yes, we were devastated by our loss, but I know that the day we stood in faith and gave our daughter to be married, we defeated the Evil One. If by chance Satan does have a forked tail, I envisioned it tucked very uncomfortably between his gnarly legs.

  On the afternoon of May 21, just before Maria passed away, Steven had been writing some beautiful instrumental music on a keyboard in our dining room. He’d planned a piece called “Sisters,” which would be played as the bridesmaids and flower girls walked down the aisle. He wrote another piece called “Emily’s Smile,” which would be played as Emily approached her groom.

  That was the plan.

  Now, so many dark days after the tragedy we did not plan, the “Sisters” music started to play. The wedding party walked out of our house, down the porch steps, and through the grass near our pond. After a pause, the “Emily’s Smile” music started and Steven walked his daughter through the green grass and toward her groom.

  Tanner was beaming. Emily was beaming, feeling as beautiful as she had ever felt in her life. Steven, holding our daughter’s hand, felt overwhelmed by a sense of rightness. We had prayed since Emily was small for her husband . . . and here was Tanner, the godly man that God had brought. Our friends and family were all smiling and crying as the music played and Steven walked Emily closer to her groom.

  This day, with its beauty and sweetness, was all we could have hoped and dreamed . . . even as we were aware, in sharp relief, of the day that our dreams had died when Maria left us. It was like a peek inside the curtain of eternity, and we all saw a little further than usual: Blessed be the name of the Lord, the One who gives and takes away!

  Preceding Emily down the grassy aisle, Stevey Joy had served as the sole flower girl. She carried a Chinese lantern; within it was a beautiful monarch butterfly, in honor of Maria. As Stevey Joy arrived at Tanner’s side at the front, he bent and gently helped her open the lantern. The butterfly paused for a moment and then took flight off into the golden October evening.

  After the service, everyone walked the short path to our glorified barn. We’d hired a great band, had awesome food, and we all cut loose.

  At one point in the evening, Steven looked across the dance floor and saw his Uncle Barry, a staid Baptist, dancing with his daughter, who had actually been the flower girl at our wedding. There was his ninety-four-year-old grandmother, not exactly boogying, but smiling and tapping her toes from her wheelchair. There was Steven’s sister-in-law Sherry dancing with their adopted Chinese daughter, Leah Rose. My big, bald brother was doing spin moves on the floor, and then he’d pop up and dance with his wife and their two little ones from China.

  There were so many beautiful adopted children there . . . so many children like Shaoey and Stevey Joy, dancing with everyone . . . once orphans, now laughing at the wedding feast. It was like every inhibition had been let go . . . not by alcohol or something external, but by the Holy Spirit, setting people free so they could dance.

  For Steven, it was a realization of why Jesus loved weddings in His earthly life. And it was like a foretaste of heaven’s wedding banquet, when there will be no weeping or tears, when all will dance freely in the Father’s joy.

  I danced and danced and had the time of my life. At one point, I sat down to take it all in. It was so right. I watched old friends talk and laugh, and new introductions take place among the young cousins and friends. I knew Maria would have wanted us to celebrate in this way; Emily’s wedding was a pure gift from God, giving us fresh wind under our tired wings.

  From this sublime experience at the reception, we came to the less-than-sublime time when the bride and groom would leave for their honeymoon. Emily and Tanner had wanted to be surprised by what was thrown at them as they left the reception. We were happy to keep it a mystery but wanted to figure out something creative. We didn’t want to toss rice or birdseed or flower petals at our bride and groom. We didn’t want to blow bubbles or release balloons.

  Finally, we’d come up with the ideal choice. I ordered hundreds of small stuffed bunnies from a toy manufacturer. We thought it was perfect: bunnies were a sign of fertility, and it would be so cute to gently pelt our bride and groom with neon-colored rabbits.

  Even before the wedding, a few dozen of these rabbits had hopped over to the bridal-night hotel, waiting in the room for the bride and groom to arrive. Others had been stuffed in honeymoon luggage and dozens more inside every nook and cranny of the getaway car. The bunnies were multiplying.

  I should have remembered that the bride’s brothers were seventeen and eighteen at the time, and the groom’s friends were not much more mature than that. So in the hands of these groomsmen and other wedding guests, the cute little bunnies became, you guessed it, airborne weapons.

  Emily and Tanner were ready to go. They stood at the beautiful arbor that my father had made for them. The crowd was ready to say farewell, bunnies in hand.

  Then I saw Caleb – who happened to catch the bride’s garter, which was a bright Irish green – wearing said garter around his head like a ninja, with a bright pink bunny tucked into it on his forehead. Other guys had their hands full of bunnies. This couldn’t be good.

  And as the happy bride and groom ran for the getaway car, it began. Bunny wars. Tanner tried to shield a perturbed Emily as they were painfully pelted with hundreds of cute little rabbits . . . which was not quite the fairytale end to what had, thus far, been a perfect Cinderella day.

  Emily’s Smile

  “Emily’s Smile” is the melody I heard in my head as I tried to picture my sweet little girl slowly walking down the aisle, dressed in white, with that beautiful smile on her beautiful face, to become a bride to the man of her dreams. Her mom and I know that this is a day that she has dreamed of since she was a little girl. We also know how incredibly happy she is this day because of the goodness and faithfulness of her Heavenly Father. So there’s no doubt that while there will certainly be a few tears, this day will be lit up brightly by Emily’s smile.

  Steven Curtis Chapman,

  note on wedding program

  33

  Journaling, Blogging,

  and Sobbing

  The quickest way for anyone to reach the sun and the light of day

  is not to run west, chasing after the setting sun, but to head east,

  plunging into the darkness until one comes to the sunrise.

  Jerry Sittser

  I’d been a faithful blogger before Maria’s homegoing, sharing photos, fun, and Chapman news for our friends online. After the accident, blogging was either impossible or terrifying. I had nothing to say.

  But bit by bit, I started expressing myself again . . . in blogs or journal entries or even text messages.

  But I started short and sweet. Here’s my first blog after we lost Maria:

  September 19, 2008

  He is God!

  I couldn’t do much more than that. But I did need to write what was happening. In
October I sent this text message to Steven after a trip to Florida with my best friend, Karen, during which we prayed, read the Bible, walked the beach, looked at photos, cried about the past, and prayed about the future:

  October 18, 2008

  I love you. Ready to see you tomorrow, but unfortunately this trip was not a magic pill to “fix” me.

  I knew it wouldn’t be.

  It has been great and I’ve remembered a ton.

  But in the end, Maria is still gone and her life was lived so full – but also just full enough for this mama to want her back with everything inside of me . . . thus leaving me with the same questions I came with . . . and a bunch of head knowledge as to how to live with this catastrophic loss.

  I’m not sure when my broken heart will ever let the knowledge of my head in, or if it can.

  I’m afraid to trust God (obviously a past issue) because in my humanness we’ve trusted and lost over and over.

  So where do I go from here?

  Once again . . . wanting Maria back and feeling as though God forgot our cumulative prayers of protection on May 21. Which sucks cuz I’ve read some awesome stuff this week, but it is hard to let it sink in. I love you.

  The same day, I wrote Steven a card, which was as much for me as for him:

  October 18, 2008

  Take my hand . . . that’s really it! All we can do is to grab hands, hold tight, and start taking steps!

  It feels like we are walking into hurricane-force winds, but maybe, just maybe if we hold tight to each other, and then tie ourselves to the Creator of the hurricane in the first place, we will survive the storm that we are surely in!

  I’m only prepared to say survive . . . not yet able to see the calm sunshine and beauty that comes after such devastation, but I’m willing to hold on, which in the end is the true meaning of faith and trust.

  Thanks for helping me and not expecting me to be OK too soon. I’m scared, very scared. I’m holding tight. It’s all I know to do.

  All my love,

  Me xxox

  Most of my grief those first months went into my journals:

  October 2008

  Maria,

  I’m sad. Brokenhearted and wounded. You are momentarily gone from me, taken without notice, way too soon for my liking.

  I’m sitting on the beach with Miss Karen. She loved you so very much and with the pain of your departure she is caring for me very well during my adjustment to the “new normal.” We are in Amelia Beach and it is almost sunset. You would’ve loved the beach because there are lots of waves, shells, flowers, and butterflies. The sand castles you would’ve built would have been enormous!

  Mom and Miss Karen came here to talk about you and remember you! We have watched a lot of DVDs and looked at pictures. We have also read Scripture and books. We have so many questions about why you had to leave us so soon.

  Mommy has been so sad. I know you wouldn’t want me to be, but I long for the way things were and wonder why they have to be the way they are.

  I’m sorry, Maria, so sorry if I should’ve kept a closer eye on you that day. I was too busy, as usual, and excited for the plans of Emily’s wedding. I’ve lived the last five months wondering all of the “what ifs.” Please forgive me.

  Willy is sad too. He loved you with all of his heart and would never have done anything to hurt you. He didn’t see you! I know and you know that now, but I wanted to tell you.

  Shaoey has been brokenhearted too. She feels like in some way it is her fault for sending you to get Will. She loves you so much! So does Stevey Joy, who misses you terribly! It is like half of her is missing!

  Thanksgiving 2008

  Maria, this grief I can’t express is deeply personal and isolating. It makes Mommy very sad. Sometimes I can’t breathe it hurts so bad. Everybody has loved on me, but the tears still come. Shaoey and Stevey miss you so much.

  By Christmas, I found I did have things I wanted to share with others, so I sat down to write my first Christmas letter without Maria.

  December 12, 2008

  I have been impressed for quite some time now to write a letter to all of you who have been so present with us in prayer during these last several months as we have grieved and come to terms with the reality that Maria is gone from us, but present with Christ.

  We honestly don’t like that very much.

  As we enter this Christmas season and all of the festivities that it brings, it also makes the point even louder that one of us is missing. A stocking that won’t be filled, and less presents under the tree.

  Maria had a contagious giggle that would fill the room over the wonderment of finding the elf that moves to a different spot every day during the month of December. The reality that the precious laughter of Maria won’t be heard for a while has been a quiet loudness that screams for Jesus to come quickly . . . not as a baby in a humble manger, but as the King of all kings who will wipe all of the confusion and tears from this sad mother’s eyes! I am eagerly anticipating His arrival . . .

  As I anticipate Christmas 2008, I have many thoughts flying through my heart and head. The last several days, my mind has not been able to stop thinking about Mary, the mother of Jesus. Pregnant and scared, knowing that the baby she was carrying eventually would pay the ultimate price of His life.

  How would I have lived differently if I knew that my time with Maria was going to be this short?

  Regretfully, I would have lived much differently. I would have purposely hugged and kissed more. I would have tried to memorize and lock away in my heart certain smells and smiles. I would have colored more and worked less. I would have laughed more and fussed less.

  Bedtime wouldn’t have become a chore to check off the list of things to get done. Instead it would have been more of an opportunity to listen about the day and offer whatever words were needed. The swimming pool wouldn’t have been too cold to swim in. The flowers in the garden would have all been picked, and definitely more ice cream would have been consumed!

  I wonder what it was like for Mary after her son’s death. I know she saw Him resurrected and was certain of the fact that she would see Him again, but she was still His mom. Mary found favor with God; therefore, she was chosen to be Jesus’ mom. But because God favored Mary, she was also chosen to suffer. Not just at the crucifixion, but her whole life. She was chosen to carry a baby in her womb, be persecuted, and give birth in a dirty stable.

  Most of the time at Christmas we end the story there . . . in the stable with Mary, Joseph, and Jesus receiving their company. Wise men, shepherds, and angels – you get the picture in your head, right? The star, the animals, the nativity!

  What about the rest of it? Mary, mothering the Son of God! She was human, she had a baby, and she raised that baby with the heaviness that she was to see Him suffer and thus she too would suffer. I think when Mary was hiding things in her heart, it was a lot more than the reality of who she carried in her womb. I am certain that she was hiding away the memories of first smiles and steps, as well as the first tears and tumbles.

  Knowing what was to come, did Mary have the opportunity to live differently as a mom to her little boy? I believe she did. I am sure that she watched Him differently, taught Him differently, and prayed differently. I can only imagine the discussions that she and Joseph would have when their son wasn’t listening, how they probably begged God to let the cup pass from them, but in the end yielding up the prayer we all hesitate to pray when it comes to our children . . . Your will be done.

  UGGHH37! I don’t want to. I didn’t want to on May 21st, and I still don’t want to now. Yet somehow we did, and somehow we will continue to. I am reminded more than ever this Christmas that it doesn’t end at the nativity in Bethlehem in a cozy manger . . . it is a journey all the way to the cross on the hill on Good Friday.

  Christmas for the Chapmans this year represents suffering. From here on it represents the ultimate suffering that came on Good Friday.

  Isn’t it amazing that it is called
GOOD Friday? Why is it good if it is full of suffering? Because Easter came on Sunday and what Satan intended for evil, God intended for GOOD! Christmas ultimately ends at Easter and the reality that we will see Maria again!

  If we are to live as Christ, then we will suffer like Christ. I am thankful this Christmas more than ever for Easter. When all the questions I have will be answered and all the tears I have will be wiped away. Until then, Merry Christmas with the reality that Easter came and all of this suffering will someday be gone in a moment, and all things will become new and right and awesome!

  Thanks for your prayers during this journey. It isn’t an easy one and your love and support is continually needed. May you be richly blessed for gracing us with your love. Longing to be washing dishes in heaven with Maria, – Mary Beth, for all the Chapman family

  Somehow, as I moved into my first full year without Maria, I found a way to share on the blog about life again, even the hard parts.

  February 2009

  Let me just tell you how proud I am of my Will Franklin Chapman and all his buddies on his team. Not that they clinched the District Title, but that they all spoke afterward at Senior Night, and it was inspiring, to say the least. A little background: Will has played basketball with a couple of these guys since fourth grade. They are a close bunch of friends. David Anderson is one of those guys. He just so happens to be the brother of Julia Anderson, soon to be Julia Chapman! You are getting the picture . . . close buddies.

  At any rate, they all had a chance to speak tonight and they all did great and gave God, family, friends, and coaches the credit. When Will spoke, he talked about homeschooling last year and how hard it was on me to see him not play. Then he told the crowd he is playing this year for me, his biggest fan!

  To stand before the crowd and acknowledge what he has been through, and thank his family and his best friend, David Anderson, for standing with him, was simply amazing.