A few years ago, soon after our move to Maplehurst, I wrote this prayer on a three by five index card:
Lord, please make a way for my extended family to gather more often.
I added it to the small stack I keep in my Bible, and I regularly remembered it in prayer. The paper is softer now, the ink a little bit smeared.
Soon, my husband and I and our four children will fly to Texas for Shawn’s burial. Since the accident in January, my daughter and I have traveled to Hawaii, my husband has made two trips to be with my sister and her kids in Kansas City, we sent our older daughter and son on their own to visit grandparents and cousins. And now we fly to Texas.
My prayer has been answered, but the answer to my prayer is loss.
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I have not visited my hometown in a decade. My children have either never been or have no memory of the place, but because Jonathan and I and my sister and Shawn share the same Texas roots, we will gather there. We will gather with my parents and siblings, my nieces and nephews, my in-laws, and with Shawn’s family. We will be joined by my father’s west Texas family, by my mother’s California family, by high school friends and college friends and childhood church friends.
In Roots and Sky, I write:
“I have long wondered if home is the place from which we come or the place we are headed. The estrangement I felt from my surroundings as a child growing up in Texas has always meant that I tend to see home as my end and not my beginning.”
This is a return to our beginnings. I suspect that whatever I find there, I must bring it back with me, a little something extra tucked into my carry-on.
Home is our present and our past. Perhaps, it is time to make my own past welcome at Maplehurst.
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That index card is still tucked into the back page of my Bible. I wanted to feel angry when I read it again, but I felt, instead, some mix of fear, awe, and resignation. I believe the prayer came from God as much as the answer, so I cannot muster up any anger, just as I never, truly, mustered up that prayer.
I only received it. Repeated it. Submitted to it.
Instead of anger, I feel compassion for that other me who prayed without seeing, without understanding, but with hope. I believe the prayer was good, and so I believe that the answer is good.
It is also terrible.
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Twelve men died in those helicopters, but there will be only 9 coffins. We are all dust, and we all return to dust, but some are buried in earth and others are dust in the sea.
Some part of Shawn has been returned to us, and so we are lucky. We are blessed.
And what are blessings but those gifts that are hardest to receive?
Like this opportunity to gather. This opportunity to go home again. This chance to say hello to so many.
For this gift, this chance to plant our last goodbye in familiar dirt, we say thank you.
And we say, have mercy on us, O Lord, have mercy on us.
Thank You,Christie that is beautiful! Thru tears I have been going thru boxes of old photo albums looking for pictures of Shawn & Kurt back in the day:) I look forward to meeting Shawn’s Family Saturday! God Bless All
These words are written for me in my particular end and particular answer to prayer. Thank you, friend.
The Lord sees all of our days even the terrible and painful and still we suffer them somehow for his glory and ours. Christie I read about the remains of the young man from Portland and the funeral they were having. I prayed for you all to be likewise blessed even in this terrible gift. Your family remains in my prayers daily. God is near. Much love to you all.
My prayer has been answered, but the answer to my prayer is loss. What a beautiful irony. In my life, many of my answers have come through loss. Thank you for this. . .I will be contemplating on this. Bless you.
Beautifully written and I can feel your emotions through the screen. I’ll be praying for you as you travel and go through the next few days.
I will be praying for all your extended family as y’all come home to Texas. My son will be one of the Marines at the service. I will be praying for God’s grace and comfort for y’all and also that eyes will be opened to see our Lord’s glory.
Christie, sweet Christie, I cant imagine how difficult this homegoing will be–this return in order to return Shawn to his native soil. But when I think of home and homegoing, I can’t help but thinking that earth and soil and families and houses are not even our real home. We are pilgrims, traveling homeward. Shawn had a homegoing to a home more real, more perfect than we dare dream possible. This does not make his place at your dinnertable any less empty or poignant, a place less filled with longing, and yet I keep praying that the Lord comforts you to know that Shawn is at home with Him, and that Shawn will never be pulled away again. May God bless and comfort you on your pilgrimage.
Love
Lynn
Love and prayers and tears for all of your loss and praying as the grief cycle continues on that you will continue to have eyes to see and have hope in God’s answered prayers and His deep abiding love for Shawn and each of you.
Yes. YES. It is lovely. And it is terrible. Like life. And death. BIG breath, praying for all of you as you gather, Christie. Peace to you.
Much love to your family, Christie. This hard-won perspective on prayer makes me re-think my own, but also reminds me that He is before all things. Peace, friend.
Heartbreaking. And still you give Him glory. Your gift gives Him glory.
Prayers for safe travels and peace of hearts and minds for everyone who knew and loved Shawn.
So heartbreaking and lovely. Love to you, Christie.
Christie, I am praying for you and yours. May the God of measureless grace carry you and sing words that fill your heart anew. May Shawn rest in peace and rise in glory. And may each of you know how great the Love of God is as you each pass through the valley of the shadow of death. Blessings to you always.
Will be praying for your trip home.
Christie, this has been in my inbox a few days…..sigh. Hard to read but I’m thankful I can share in the tears you will surely shed in the going home. It has been my experience that God uses our homegoings to bring closure we didn’t know we needed. And then we are more completed, if that makes sense…
Sending heartfelt prayers your way.
I’ve been praying for you and your family, and will continue to do so. So much love to you, friend.
I’m so sorry for your family’s loss, Christie. Surrounding you all in much prayer.