The First Tears

Losing Oliver was not my first experience with the loss of someone out of order. When I was a young child, one of my aunts and uncles on my mom's side of the family lost an infant due to a heart condition, and one of my aunts and uncles on my dad's side of the family lost a child due to premature birth. When I was in middle school one of my aunts died when she was in her early 30s after several years of illness. Because of these events, I always knew Christians were not immune to the toughest parts of life. I knew that grief chops you down and yet somehow you keep going. I knew that after a loss you are never the same but hopefully you are living something truer than you were before. And I knew even when we lose someone they are never forgotten nor far from us. I also experienced an out of order grief firsthand as an adult when my sister passed away in August of 2018, eleven months before Oliver.

My sister, MaryJo, was fifteen months younger than me. We also have two younger brothers. My mom stayed home with us kids, and I remember having so much fun playing, laughing, fighting, and working together. We grew up in a small town, and MaryJo and I shared many experiences. We had many of the same teachers and shared a classroom three times in elementary and middle school and once in high school (I am questioning that number, it may have been a few more times in high school). We were in the same band, choir, and softball teams. 

My parents worked hard to keep our family close as we were growing up. We always ate dinner together. We started camping right after my youngest brother was born, first in a tent and eventually in a pop-up camper. It always rained, but that never stopped us from having fun fishing, swimming, hiking, playing games, and cooking over a fire. At the end of my 8th grade year of school and my sister's 7th grade year, my family bought a piece of property, sold our house, and moved into an empty convent for three months while our family worked together to build a house on the new property. These are the kind of things that bond you together for life, even if it does mean you can never play two truths and a lie in a group together. "Hey, I was going to use the convent story for one of my truths! I don’t know how to play the game without it!"

My sister and I were always so different, from looks to personality to interests. Our paths in adulthood also took us in different directions. I went to college in Michigan to study Environmental Science, and a year later MaryJo went to college in Wisconsin to study Special Education. I got married while still in college, graduated, and headed off to Missouri and Alaska with my husband. I worked for two years, and once my children were born, I stayed home with them as we continued to move around the country with the Army. My sister graduated, moved to Portland, began a Master's program that involved teaching and studying, and eventually spent eight years overseas working on various educational efforts in Nicaragua, Laos, and Afghanistan. 

MaryJo would often come visit me wherever I was living over spring break or Thanksgiving. She always went to great lengths to come home for Christmas, and many years I would travel home as well. I was able to visit her twice when she was in Portland, but I never made it to any of her overseas locations.

My parents, siblings, and I worried about her when she started living in more and more far flung places, but we knew that she was doing what she loved to do and following her God-given calling. While she was living in Afghanistan, she got sick with what seemed like a normal illness. I first heard she was sick when my parents got a phone call that her liver wasn't working. MaryJo was moved to Germany. My mom flew to Germany to be with her, and we all prayed. We were hopeful but scared. A week later she was put on a ventilator. At that time my dad and one of my brothers joined my mom in Germany, and my other brother, my kids, and I traveled to Wisconsin to care for my parents' farm. We continued to pray, but we also knew things weren’t looking good and God doesn’t always give us the yes we want. A week later she passed away. 

My parents hosted a beautiful celebration of life for my sister and modeled putting faith in Jesus while being truthful about how you are feeling, just like they always have. My brothers and I tried to follow suit. We were all sad, overwhelmed, dismayed, confused, etc. We were all dealing with our grief in our own way as we tried to also comfort one another and figure out how to keep living when one we loved so much was gone.

Helping on my parents' farm was such a blessing during this
time. We were comforted by puppies, family and friends, time in
nature, new experiences, and the joy of outdoor work.  

It had been a long time since I had done any canning!

I wrote these words on my facebook page during this time:

"My sister is beautiful. She is smart, fun, funny, determined, and creative. She passed away last week, and I miss her.

MaryJo always saw people and wanted to help (she even helped me find my first pair of skinny jeans). She always sought out and answered the call to go. She was passionate about education. She worked tirelessly to help her students learn and to help entire countries worth of children access education. She could fit in anywhere from schoolrooms in 3rd world countries to white tie events in big cities to family gatherings in the country.

We never saw each other often enough after we grew up, but that did not diminish our love for each other. She is in all my cherished childhood memories. MaryJo, you are so precious to me." 

I could sure use her help with the current jeans landscape! And to explain to me the mystery of middle schoolers, who she taught and loved in Portland and Nicaragua. I wish I could get on a plane and visit her in a far off country. I wish I could still get mad at her for being so terrible about keeping in touch. In short, I still miss her in a hundred thousand ways.

The loss of Oliver came so quickly after the loss of MaryJo. Only eleven months separate their passings. My grief over Oliver overwhelmed and overshadowed my grief over MaryJo for a time. And then it started to peek out again and make itself known as distinct from my grief over losing Oliver. Most of the lessons I have learned about God, life, hope, truth, mercy, compassion, and thanksgiving, I see through the lens of the loss of Oliver. And yet when I stop to get a full perspective, I know these lessons all took root and were tested first in my grief over MaryJo.  

I took the above picture in the spring after MaryJo died while on a walk with my kids. It has been the desktop wallpaper on my laptop ever since. It reminds me of beauty for ashes, fallen seeds bearing much fruit, winter giving way to spring, and bright hope for tomorrow. It is hard living between the promise and the fulfillment. It is so hard when those we love are called ahead of us way too soon. This picture reminds me to cling to hope. 

Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful. Hebrews 10:23

Those who sow with tears will reap with songs of joy. Psalm 126:5

Now may our Lord Jesus Christ Himself, and our God and Father, who has loved us and given us everlasting consolation and good hope by grace, comfort your hearts and establish you in every good word and work. 2 Thes 2:15-16