Choosing to SEE

by Mary Beth Chapman

  This was the same picture she was drawing the day of the terrible accident, except this beautiful picture was finished, colored in! The blue petal that she had colored on May 21 is in the same place on this flower, and the orange center is the same.

  I feel as though I got to see the whole picture! God is going to color in the rest of it on that day when all the questions won’t need to be answered . . . and all our tears will be wiped from our eyes! That little nugget of a girl left me another gift on a day when I have been really struggling with God and the whole suffering journey.

  I’m so tired of the “if onlys,” and I about drive myself crazy thinking she’ll be home the next time I walk in the door. I physically miss her smell, her slobber, and her fat little feet so much that I sometimes feel as though I’m going through some kind of withdrawal.

  Emotionally I’m fatigued from wondering what all of this mess and confusion and trauma is doing to Shaoey, Stevey, Will, Caleb, Emily, and Steven. It hurts just typing this because so many people have been affected by the loss of this squinty-eyed, big-smiled little princess who invaded the hearts of many.

  I know seeds of hope have been planted . . . and I have even seen some of the sprouting of growth that comes through tragedy, suffering, and what God can accomplish through all of this. But, man, is that ever so hard to embrace on days when it would just feel better to shut down and pull the covers over your head!

  But, as Maria’s picture so clearly shows me, the bright color is coming. When that foggy glass that we now see through dimly shatters, we will be in the brightly colored, finished picture of heaven where I will hear little Maria say, “SEE, it’s everything you said that it would be!” I will hold her and hear her heartbeat again and it will be glorious!

  September 19, 2009

  You know, it’s really cool when we get to SEE when God causes good to come out of such hard times. I was thinking about my sweet friend Lori Mullican, and how weird and awful it is that we both would lose our daughters in accidents. But here’s a good thing that came out of Maria’s loss.

  Ever since the car accident that had killed her sister 10 years earlier, Alex Mullican had struggled with awful feelings of guilt and pain. When she was younger, she never could have put words to it . . . but she felt like it was her fault that her sister had died. In her mind, she was the little one who had to go home that night and get in the bed. She was the reason that they had to leave the party early.

  Lori and Ray had tried to help her every way they could. They’d taken her to therapy and counseling, but nothing had really broken through.

  Anyway, Alex is a teenager now. And on the night of Maria’s accident, Alex was sitting with one of her friends, crying and praying for us. And then as she was crying out to God to comfort Will, God gave her words she had never uttered before. She began talking about the night of the crash that had robbed her of her sister and her peace. For the first time in 10 years, she verbalized her feelings that she was responsible for her sister’s death. As she prayed for Will, Alex felt a peace and rest she hadn’t known before.

  In God’s perfect timing, He used my Will’s pain as a trigger for Alex’s healing. And now she’s volunteering at a counseling center, and she’s studying for a degree in counseling, so she can help children deal with trauma and brokenness!

  September 25, 2009

  Today is just one of those days, when it all seems very surreal again, and if I take a nap maybe I’ll wake up to life being different, with Maria running up and down the steps a million times like she always did. Maria was loud, as I’ve told you all before, so her absence is a huge void around here.

  For the most part, everyone is adjusting to the new normal – you know the one with a huge elephant in the room that some days you just have to ignore to make it through the day . . . or on other days, you talk it out, cry it out, fight it out, or pray it out of the room.

  I’ve now read so many books on grief that I should have a degree, but you know what? There isn’t any one way to do it. My story isn’t yours and your story isn’t mine. I’ve come to the conclusion that the only thing people who are suffering and grieving have in common, at least if you believe as I do as a Christian, is the One who suffered for us. And the Father, who grieved for Him going to the cross, understands.

  Now, whoever is sitting there saying, “Yeah, sure . . . right,” I’m with you! There are days that God is sooooooo quiet that I begin to question Him. I’m just being honest. There seem to be days of silence.

  And even with all the seeds sprouting from planting the story of Maria into the hearts of thousands, it still seems quiet when I most need to hear Him. I am still assuming that this is where faith, hope, and trust enter the picture. If I stop believing, then what? Maybe that is what God wants me to learn through all the silence. And some days I’m hopeful.

  On other days I’m screaming, “I believe . . . help my unbelief!”

  The chronic pain that lives in my heart and my soul wants surgery to fix it . . . get it better quick! But sixteen months into this journey, I’m beginning to realize that God perhaps wants me to heal slowly so that as many things that can be learned about Him are learned. I’m not being a very good student today. Maybe tomorrow my attention will be better!

  I am trusting He has the Chapmans’ best plan scripted out for us until we are with sweet Maria again. I’m sure it won’t be all happy and pain free. I know that suffering is one place where He ministers to us the most. So to think that we’ve had our quota would be foolish. I am just longing for the day when all the pain stops.

  Until then, may we face each struggle with the hope that He is working out His salvation in us, looking to the day when all things will be made new and suffering ends.

  I know Maria knows that now. I can’t wait until she can give me the VIP tour of heaven! Have a great weekend, and again . . . for those hurting . . . I’m just very, very sorry, and you need to know that God does understand.

  October 13, 2009

  Twenty-five years ago today this Ohio girl with big eighties hair married a Kentucky boy with an impressive mullet! I was nineteen and he was twenty-one. I’m not sure where all the years went . . . but I’m grateful that I have spent them with my best friend!

  October 22, 2009

  I started this post yesterday . . . I couldn’t finish it . . . got frustrated and teary and just walked away.

  I had a few things to do, a couple of appointments and errands, and then it happened. I realized that I was all alone. The boys were out of town, the girls were in school, and I had about two or three hours before I needed to pick up Shaoey and take her to trauma counseling. (What a fun extra-curricular activity that is. Some kids play soccer . . . others go to trauma therapy!)

  I hate being alone these days, which is ironic because I usually like being alone. But these lonely days leave me open to do nothing but think! Especially on days that happen to be the twenty-first of any month, it is just a little bit harder.

  I’m sure as time continues to be a friend and carry us closer to the reality of our true home and inheritance with Christ, it will be . . . well, maybe not easier, but different. Maybe a shift of perspective that life is moving by at a faster and faster pace, and that we really are just passing through this land to our permanent home with Christ.

  Feeling all this, I did what any sad, grieving mom might do. I went to T.J. Maxx!

  You see, I’m not a shopper. I don’t like or care about brand names. I avoid the mall unless it is Christmas and I have to purchase gifts for family members. And when I do have to make a retail selection, the bargain hunter in me is unveiled! T.J. Maxx is my friend!

  A lot of times I just get a buggy and stroll the aisles, not putting a single thing in my cart. I just stroll, think, and cry as I think of how desperately I miss that chubby-bellied, pigeon-toed, sloppy kisser of a girl.

  Yesterday, seventeen months later, I still caught myself bargaining with God to give Maria back to me, to somehow let her be m
anifested so that I could just see her for a minute, or at least get a small whiff of her sweet, sweaty smell. I would have loved to just feel the sensation of me kissing the fat of her neck and blowing Zerberts until she giggled so hard she could barely speak!

  Why? It’s been seventeen months! I still think about her that much and miss her that much! I don’t know whether I’m stuck . . . stuck in grief . . . or if I’m simply a mom! A mom who knows exactly how many days it’s been since she heard, “Mommy, will you put Cinderella’s gloves on for me? Thanks, Mommy, I love you!”

  I really hesitate sometimes to write these truest of true thoughts down. I find myself thinking, “Whoever is reading this probably thinks I need to just get over it and move on.”

  I want you all to know that I am making progress. The waves roll in a little less frequently, but they still roll in. And as far as getting over it, I won’t. I’ll get through it, not over it.

  There is a part of me that will be and is forever changed and different because I buried a child at five years old!

  Now, that’s not to say I won’t ever experience joy. I already have . . . in plenty of ways. I’ve had two children get married since Maria went to be with Jesus! What joy it was to see my children so in love and happy . . . true joy. Yet, what was forever changed was the fact that I will still go through those joyous times very aware of my brokenness and my sadness.

  It’s really okay! In fact, God entrusted me with it. Why? Trust me? I don’t even want to talk about the why question. But ultimately, God wanted to use our family to live out this kind of story here on earth.

  I only pray that when people see us battling it out and crying our guts out and loving till it hurts, that they know we are doing our best to honor the One who blessed us with Maria for five beautiful years.

  Did I want more years? You better believe I did . . . but I also know that Maria didn’t live one day longer than she was supposed to. She was never going to learn to ride her bike without training wheels, drive a car, go on a date, or as Shaoey observed, have a senior picture hanging on the senior picture wall.

  God knew all of that. He knows all of my pain, and somehow I am trusting that He alone is the One who is going to fix it, heal it, make it right . . . when it is time.

  Until then, I’ll still be asking God to let me see her, feel her, smell her. And so if you see a woman who is a little disheveled walking the aisles of T.J. Maxx with tears streaming down her face . . . it’s probably me!

  You see, no matter how much I can tell you it’s getting easier, I still end up back where I started. I want so badly to be the strong Christian woman who keeps taking those steps ahead and making that awesome progress.

  Yet, when all is said and done, I think I’m going to have to settle for the Little Engine That Could, telling Jesus, “I think I can, I think I can!” and believing it . . . even when I don’t!

  From “Just Have To Wait”

  words and music by Steven Curtis Chapman

  Well I can’t wait to SEE your smile again

  The one when your eyes disappear along with all my troubles

  And I can’t wait to hear you sing a song

  Maybe “Jesus Loves Me” or a song you learned up there

  Well I can’t wait to hear your mama laugh

  The way that only you can make her laugh when you get silly

  And I can’t wait to SEE you in her arms

  And know the wound so deep inside her heart is healed for good

  And I can’t wait to dance with you again

  Knowing that this time the dance will never have to end

  And I can’t wait to SEE your sisters play

  The way they do when all of you are playing all together

  And I can’t wait to watch your brother’s face

  When he can finally SEE with his own eyes

  That everything’s okay

  But I, oh, I just have to wait

  ’Cause I know that day is coming

  So I, oh, I just have to wait

  40

  Year Endings

  and New Beginnings

  There is nothing we can do with suffering except to suffer it.

  C. S. Lewis

  After you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you.

  1 Peter 5:10 ESV

  The Chapmans’ Christmas Letter 2009!

  M•E•R•R•Y C•H•R•I•S•T•M•A•S!

  M:

  May 10, 2009, Steven and I welcomed a new daughter-in-law into the family! Caleb and Julia were married in a quaint ceremony by a lake . . . just like she always dreamed of. She is no newbie around us! Caleb and Julia have been best buddies since elementary school!

  God truly showed off bringing these two beautiful people together. Julia’s brother David is Willy Frank’s best friend . . . and her mom? Only one of my closest buddies in the world! How great is that? Julia works at Show Hope and teaches dance part time, and supports Caleb as he pursues his musical interests and continues all the video work at Show Hope!

  E:

  Emily and Tanner headed for the beautiful green land o’ the Irish in September. They are currently students at Belfast Bible College and are loving the challenge of being in school together, and learning all they can about the Bible and God’s love and message for them!

  R:

  Ruthy and Will are now dating long distance, but for the most part, it has worked out well. Ruthy is finished with school this December and will have a semester break and some summer fun before starting college in the fall. Wherever she ends up going, that university will be lucky to have her! Talk about a smart girl!

  R:

  Reaching double digits! Shaoey, that is! Shaohannah celebrated her tenth birthday this year! We celebrated with ten of her closest friends and a bunch of family and others back in August. We got her an iPod. That little stinker is so smart. She sold it to her brother Caleb, took the money she made from that, added her birthday money from various grandparents, and headed on over to Best Buy to purchase an iTouch. Now when she is around WiFi, she can text her big sister Emily and her buddy Tanner all the way in Ireland . . . for free . . . thanks to Skype!

  Y:

  Yelling and yearning: That pretty much sums Mary Beth up. I’m in the second year of grieving one of the six best things to ever be given to me to care for, and now she is in the arms of Jesus, the ultimate Mother and Father!

  Perfect forever . . . but that’s there . . . in heaven. Here on earth, this side of the ever-so-thin veil, it is pretty crappy! No sense hiding it: I’ve spent a lot of time yelling at God, yelling at myself, yelling to hear myself yell! Wanting so badly for the God who I believe in wholeheartedly to yell back all the answers I long to know . . . which leaves me yearning for the day when all yelling ceases and every question I had will be answered . . . even the questions that I yelled at God! Good news for a loudmouth like me who wants to know and know now!

  C:

  Caleb and Will Franklin: Are opening for Casting Crowns this spring. The tour is forty cities long. This mom is so proud she can’t even stand herself.

  With the tragic story God has given Will and Caleb to steward, this is a great place for them to be. Check out www.calebchapman.com for more info!

  Can you tell I’m just a tad bit excited for my boys? God is good!

  H:

  Healing, hoping, and hard have been the themes for all of 2009. A lot of people think that the first year of grieving is the hardest. I’m sure that is true for so many. But for me personally, it’s been the second year that has been by far the hardest.

  It’s as if I am thawing out, waking from a deep freeze, coming back from some out-of-body experience. I am literally missing huge chunks of time, and this year, 2009, has me feeling as though I am experiencing some of the “firsts” without Maria, when in reality they are the “seconds.”

  It just hurts a li
ttle more without the numbing effects of adrenaline and denial . . . those places where our minds take us in those unpredictable, panicked moments when all of a sudden we think we can actually go back and change something to make the outcome different . . . and then we realize, “Wait, it’s been a year and a half . . . she is not coming back.”

  We will see her again, and we will spend more time with her than we did without her, but this has been the journey that no one would have signed up for.

  Good thing for me that hope is also in the letter H today. Without that simple word, it would all be a crock! But I have this hope in heaven, in Christ, in the cross, that we will win this battle before us.

  R:

  Riding a bike! The big news of the year! Yes, Stevey Joy is seven. Yes, maybe she should have learned a little earlier, but she only weighs 38 pounds at seven years old! I think that was a big part of the problem: she was too light to hold herself up!

  But finally, on an warm, fall day, it happened. The wobbles stopped, and the brakes worked when they were supposed to and didn’t throw her over the handlebars, and she could turn and come back without going straight forever and ever! The smile was priceless.

  Dad, Mom, and Shaoey all witnessed this groundbreaking event live . . . from the driveway. Another day for Mom to wonder if Maria would have learned sooner (she was a little heavier and gutsier) or later (she was the baby of the family). And while I was so proud of Stevey Joy . . . the tears fell as if something was still so terribly wrong!

  It sure seemed like there should have been two princess bikes outside trying to keep from crashing into each other. Maria would have totally been into demolition derby type of bike riding . . . as a matter of fact, she may have had a Cars bike from the boy section of Wal-Mart!

  I:

  Into the studio Steven went and out he came . . . a very difficult process later . . . with his new project Beauty Will Rise. Steven says that they are more of his psalms rather than songs, the journal of his heart as he worked through the grieving of Maria.