I was four years old when I had my first encounter with death (and yes, I remember bits and pieces of it). My granddad passed away from a heart attack in the middle of the night. My dad took it hard (obviously), and I can remember things about my granddad that probably most 4 year olds wouldn't remember (I remember his voice, him helping me climb a tree that use to stand in the middle of their patio, the smell of his pipe, and the feel of his jacket). I didn't go to his funeral, but I can point out the house that I stayed at in Midland (which, ironically enough, one of my friends in high school lived in and it was really weird when I walked in the first time as an "adult") and I remember the family who watched me while my parents went to the funeral.
When I was 8, my cousin passed away from a brain tumor. She was only 2 years old, and she battled cancer for a whopping 5 months before God took her away. Again, my memory of Sheila and my Mom telling me that Sheila had passed away are clearer than any of my cousins, even the one that is only 4 months younger than me. When Sheila got sick, my mom spent a lot of time in Houston with her brother and his family, and my dad took care of me and my brother. At some point while Sheila was sick (I think it was around my birthday), I told God that I would give my life to Him and become a believer if He just saved my cousin (I'm 8, people. An 8 year old bargaining with God, kinda makes me laugh now). Long story short, God allowed my cousin to die and I was left with this bargain that I lost out on. However, I had already told my parents that I had "prayed the prayer" (as they say in the ol' Baptist church), and I proceeded to get baptized in the church in Midland. At this point in my life, at the ripe ol' age of 8, I was already wrestling with some of the bigger questions in life. Where do children go when they die? Why does God allow things like this to happen to His people? What good can possibly come out of a child dying so young? How could God do this to my family?
I pretty much floated along until High School, where I became really rebellious (as all Christian girls do, right?) and stopped going to church as much. There's a lot of other details of my rebellion there, but I'll leave it at that.
The real turning point for me in my faith was my freshman year of college. I lived in a dorm with 3 other girls, but my roommate was an agnostic (I had to look up what that meant at the time) named Nancy. The best way to describe Nancy is that she is a free spirit. Free. Spirit. (I really doubt she would take offense to me saying that, she'd probably just shrug it off).
Our freshman year, I was really good about getting plugged into a church and going to an on-campus Bible Study. Time to turn the ol' rebellion phase around and get serious. So, of course, Christianity came up with my discussions with Nancy and our every day life. She knew I went to Bible study and church, and she would periodically ask me questions about my beliefs, which was really cool because it made me take a good hard look at what I believe and why I believe it. We had some really hard conversations where she would throw phrases like, "Are you only my friend to convert me to Christianity?" and "Do you really thing God would condemn me to Hell? I'm a good person, so F You God if you send me to Hell." The problem was, Nancy is a really good person. She was the nicest person, a real philanthropist when it came to her time, money, whatever she had she was ready to give to the next person. Very open and cared about everyone, tried not to pass judgement on others. She had a lot of Bible knowledge, but her heart just hadn't been open to the word. I remember bringing her to Bible study with me one night (Oh I was so proud that I had gotten her to go to Bible study! Super Christian Amy!) and she contributed to the conversation just like she had been in church her whole life. It was crazy to me that somebody could hear and not believe that the Bible was truth, but that is exactly what Nancy did. She was more into Hinduism/Karma/whatever than life through Christ.
Then something happened that I still don't understand: Nancy's dad passed away our sophomore year from a melanoma that had metastasized to his brain. I never met Nancy's dad, but I was absolutely devastated for my friend. I remember I was in Houston when I heard the news (I don't even remember how I heard it), and I called and left her a voicemail where I basically broke down crying halfway through. I was so, so incredibly sad because I knew that her dad hadn't been a believer. He was raised Catholic, and turned completely away from God and raised his children in those beliefs. My heart ached for her because I knew she had no hope. I knew that she had no clue where her dad was, and no promise of seeing him again. A few friends from college and I went out to Midland for the funeral, and one man got up and spoke about Nancy's dad. I can remember this as if it were yesterday. The guy said, "I know I am treading on thin ice here, but I need you to know that before your dad passed away he accepted Christ as his personal savior." Oh dear Lord, thank you for that blessing. I was elated. I felt so much better that my friend's dad had changed his heart at the end of his life.
That night, I went over to Nancy's house to visit. I wasn't going to bring it up, but it wasn't long before she asked me, "What did you think about what the guy said at my dad's funeral?" I took a deep breath (not having a clue how to respond to this without losing a friend) and said, "Honestly, I felt relieved. I am glad that your dad accepted Christ because now I know he is in heaven and not hurting. I think that's awesome." Nancy looked at me with a deadpan stare and said, "My dad would never do that to me." Wow. I couldn't say anything in response to that. What can you say when somebody is point-blank refusing hope? I still don't know how I was suppose to respond, but I still pray for Nancy and her salvation. Her questioning me and difficult positions on life really made me accountable for my faith in Christ, and I am thankful to her for that.
It's funny to me how sometimes looking outside ourselves and at other's beliefs can concrete our own. I knew then that I would never want to be in the position that Nancy was in. I never wanted to wonder where my loved ones were, and I never wanted to be in a place that I was completely lost. I renewed my commitment to Christ, and I started my active pursuit of knowledge of Him and His glory. I can tell you story after story of how God has spoken to me over the years through His word and through other people, but ultimately my stories can be written off as "just stories" by anybody who ever reads this blog. Just like people write off the Bible as the Living Word of God.
Ultimately, I can say this: In every other religion in the world, either my husband or I did something to deserve our daughter to die, or there is absolutely no reason for her death. I chose to believe that I serve a loving God, that not only allowed my daughter to die, but also authored her life here on earth in a way that it will ripple out to others to change their lives. I chose to believe that He is using us, all three of us, every member of our extended families, to show His glory and true hope. I chose to believe that my God did not do this to punish me, but rather to use me for His glory.
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