Two people died this weekend.
They were young,
and they just got married.
They had plans, and a future.
They weren’t supposed to die.
I often hear advice on not worrying.
“worrying doesn’t add a moment to your life”
“worry about nothing, pray about everything”
“STOP worrying!”
But then people die.
People my age,
people who (like me) just got married.
The funeral sparked questions, ignited fear, and planted an inescapable sadness in my husband and I.
As we walked out of the sanctuary doors, and into the car that was to take us home,
I couldn’t help but feel the heavy weight of reality on the frailty of our lives.
We rode within the narrow lines of traffic, and I flinched at the slight swerves of each car around us.
Just a hair across the line, thats all it takes.
I nudged my husband to keep his eyes on the road, to ignore the radio and the phone that could distract him.
With the reality of death sending shock waves through my nerves, I strained to maintain whatever control I believed we had.
But the truth that Dan and Kayla couldn’t have avoided their death,
no matter how well they “played their cards”,
stood firmly in the back of my mind.
I looked at my life, and the parts I desire to control..
“Everyone has to get to a point where we give up, A point where we decide that our way really isn’t the best..” Matt said.
I could have agreed.
I could have said that I would give up my effort to control my life…
but i’m far to stubborn to respond so simply.
Instead, I said what I really felt,
“But what about when I found out about this lie? It was because of my lack of trust, my suspicions, and my searching that I discovered that painful truth.
If it weren’t for my control, then I never would have known.
What am I supposed to do, let God have control and never know who is lying to me?! Let people hurt me!? Allow bad things to happen!!?”
Let him look at his phone, and leave my assurance of his life out of reach?
I was operating under the belief that if I told my husband to be safe, then I could somehow prevent his death.
I thought that if I held tightly to my control of
what I look like, and what people see of me..
Then i’m safe.
But Dan and Kayla still died, despite Dan’s ability to remain in the lines,
with his eyes on the road.
Their tragedy evoked a truth in me that was impossible to ignore.
Despite my effort to control myself, and the amount of tragedy that enters my life, pain still comes.
Though I try to control how I appear, and what people see, my flaws are eventually exposed.
Though my husband and I know each other’s needs, we still let each other down.
I’ve been putting my faith in my hold on the things I love most,
But when I opened my hands I found that in them I held no hope.
I cannot hold the world in my hands.
I can control my marriage, my body and my finances,
just as much as Dan and Kayla could control NOT being hit last Sunday Afternoon.
That Sunday afternoon that marked the end of their life,
the end that they did not choose.
In finding that I have no control, and that pain is not only unavoidable, but a guarantee..
What hope do I have?
My belief is that hope is not found in our own hands, but in the hand that IS able to hold my fate.
That there is a hope that exceeds my ability to avoid pain.
That God’s control is good, whether its what I wanted or not.
That its not through the escape of pain, but rather, the hope that God produces WITHIN our pain that we ought to hold onto.
I don’t know why Dan and Kayla died. I flinch at the pain their death has brought to their community, family, and friends…
but I do know that through their death there is hope.
Hope found in the truth that this loss taught me.
The reminder of our fragility, and the support of a community who comes together in tragedy.
I’ll never want to be in pain, but I have no choice on when, how or if it comes.
I can only choose what I hold onto when it does,
And without God, my hands are empty.
Life is tough, write a blog. 