grieving... part II

I logged on tonight to write a little, only to see that my last post was about... grieving. Well, here we go again. It's a night for tears and eating chocolate and peanut butter for dinner because nothing else sounds remotely good (and Joel is working), and grief.

About a month ago this time I was grieving my grandpa's passing, and most of all the "not knowing" of where he stood with God. That seems like months ago now, at least.

Last weekend we found out that one of J's best friends from college had lost his wife, very suddenly. Once again, time is doing funny things-- I glanced tonight at my Facebook post from last weekend, saw the date, and thought, "was that less than a week ago??" Grief somehow seems to suspend the rules of normal life, and I am just... disoriented.

I never even met Jenny, but still, tears have ran down my face more times than I can count this week. I have cried while writing papers, cooking dinner, trying to get through the terribly long and exhausting days that have lately been my life. Jenny was "one of us," our age, our generation. Not someone who was supposed to die. I think of the last time I saw Matt (her husband), at J's fraternity reunion in the spring. We talked about the adoption they hoped would come through any day, about how a sea change in their eating habits had left them both feeling so much healthier, and Jenny had dropped a lot of medications. I knew she was sick, a serious congenital condition since childhood. I had no idea she might die.

They did adopt, a little girl from Russia named Sasha. On Matt's Facebook there are pictures of her and Jenny making cookies, of Sasha playing the piano, swinging her head like Stevie Wonder. Sasha is two. She's only been with them a few months. And now she's lost a second mommy.

This has hit us hard, and there is no other way to say it except that it has been hard. Of course our grief is small compared to the grief of those who were closest to her, and I can't even imagine getting up in the morning as a 34-year old widower and single dad. The fact that Matt does and still manages to testify about God's goodness is an amazing, well... testimony to the mighty arms of God. J is going to go out next weekend just to be with him. We all have those kind of friends-- the ones we would do anything for. I guess in times like this you find out what a friendship is worth.

J said a few days ago that Jenny was never supposed to live past childhood, and it got me thinking. She's had an extra two decades of life, and from what I can see lived pretty happily and normally. I'm sure knowing she was never supposed to make it this long isn't much comfort to Matt in the midst of his grief. But I couldn't help thinking, How wonderful. How wonderful that she got to live a full life, get married, have people who loved her, and have a child.

The fact that they became parents only months before she died seems like one of the craziest, most improbable, but yet somehow most right parts of the story. When I first knew J he would mention that he didn't think they would have kids (Jenny's health being one reason). Then they seemed to experience a sudden, joint, radical conviction from God that they were called to be parents, and called to adopt. I remember crying reading Matt's explanation of it in a lengthy Facebook note. God was clearly doing something.

And less than 4 months after they finally got their child, Matt is a single dad and Sasha is an orphan for the second time. I can't imagine that they will have an easy road. I also can't imagine that this wasn't part of God's awesome, inscrutable plan. I'm not sure Matt would have been able to adopt as a single dad. But God allowed Jenny to live long enough to be a mom, and gave Matt a family for after Jenny was gone, and I'm sure that Sasha needed a dad.

Any time I hear about someone's death it's a little wake-up call to treasure my days, and to be grateful. At the African-American church we visited a few weeks ago they must have belted from the pulpit half a dozen times how BLESSED we all were to get UP this morning because MANY PEOPLE did NOT get up this morning. But thank you LORD that you gave us another DAY of LIFE. (Hallelujah, brother.) It reminded me of Africa, and kind of made me laugh, because I'm not used to that kind of drama and thanksgiving over the fact that I got out of bed. But they're right. We are incredibly blessed for about a hundred million reasons, not least that God has graciously granted us another day of life.

And Jenny was blessed. Blessed to live 37 years, far more than she was supposed to get. Without denying the tragedy of her death, it's such a different perspective to turn the tables, and consider what she was never supposed to get, rather than what was taken away. If I can get away from the feeling that I am owed this, that, or the other thing, and turn the tables on my life to ask what I never deserved to get... the list is so long. Even the stuff that 99.99% of the human race gets... God didn't have to. It's all a gift.

I heard something today from my advisor that made me realize how darn lucky I was to get the dream scholarship I got at Johns Hopkins. I know it wasn't luck, but really, I felt today more than ever today that I'd won the lottery. (Okay, the odds were a bit better than the lottery, but not much.) And it feels almost that random. The point is just that it's all a gift, and I was chosen for some totally random and undeserving reason, and everything I get in life falls pretty much into the same category. And when I don't like what's on my plate on a particular day, when it's bitter and distasteful, I want to learn the kind of gratitude that can thank God even for those gifts.

Tonight I went to Matt's Facebook and found this in a note, written by Jenny, after a particularly hard day with a traumatized 2-year old who she couldn't really even communicate with (they'd only had Sasha about 6 weeks):

As I tried to separate myself from the day and refocus I found myself asking why: why did we choose to do this and why did we give up the the lifestyle we had before? As if someone sitting next to me blurted it out, the answer came back loud and clear. We did not choose to change our life. We chose to be obedient to what God was calling us to do. God never promised an easy life to those who serve Him.

Words to live by.