Losing Mother, And More

We lost Robin's mom, Ruth Risser, on Friday.  And we are all very sad.

For we lost more than a mother, mother-in-law, grandmother, godmother, aunt, great aunt, friend.

We lost the matriarch of our family, and the impact is huge, rippling in many directions...

• ...We now need to find a new ritual for Sunday night.  We went to Robin's folks for dinner, for over almost 20 years on that night, and now, that both of her folks are gone, that table is gone.  
• ...Our kids are experiencing yet another grand-parent loss, which, in fact, is the last grandparent loss, e.g. no more grandparents -- and that sucks.  
• ...Buckinghams Choice (where Robin's folks lived, and Robin worked for many years) has been a destination of security for us for almost 20 years. With the loss now of Robin's mom, and Robin's work transition last November from Buckingham's Choice (BC) to Central Presbyterian Church, in Baltimore, MD., BC will no longer be a 'second home.'  
• ...A chair will now be empty at our holiday traditions and birthday parties, that has always been occupied by a lively voice, recounting our family's legacy, with intrigue, fascination, surprise, humor, and grace. 

Well, you get the point.  This loss is huge and we're not quite sure what to do with all the change and pain. 

But there are clues.  

One of the largest is the presence, in all this, of baby John.  Regular blog readers will remember that John was just born just a month ago, and his presence and new reality is also huge.  

In fact, John has a way of dominating our lives now, whenever he is present, demanding, in a good way, our full attention and love. And so vividly, right in the middle of our grief -- a voice is crying -- demanding -- requiring -- our attention in the direction of new life.

I don't think that is a coincidence.  I believe God allowed the birth of baby John -- just as God allowed the death of Ruth Risser -- for a God-ordained reason: to accent and trumpet new life.  But not just any new life, but God's new life, that begins at birth, but amazingly does not end at death. Paul's words are reflective of this mind-bending reality: 

"The truth is that we neither live nor die as self-contained units. At every turn life links us to God, and when we die we come face to face with him. In life or death we are in the hands of God. Christ lived and died that he might be the Lord in both life and death."  (Romans 14:8, Phillips)

And so not only does Baby John cry out life in the midst of our grief, the Good Lord, cries out life in the midst of our grief.  

The prospect of life living on beyond death is unbelievable, especially when one is in the depths of biting sorrow.

But God keeps crying out life, anyhow, like a new born baby, relentless in His love, in the midst of our unrelenting sorrow.

At moments like this, when the familiar ebbs, I remember warm times, like sitting in our family pew at the Hagerstown Church of the Brethren, singing familiar hymns.   My mother's favorite was  'Breath On Me Breathe of God.'  Mine was:  'O Love That Wilt Not Let Me Go.'   That hymn's third verse, always apprehended me:

"O Joy that seekest me through pain, I cannot close my heart to thee; I trace the rainbow through the rain, And feel the promise is not vain, That morn shall tearless be."

Both baby John's new life cry -- and God's new life cry -- are seeking me through pain. And so, I pray, I trace the rainbow through the rain.  I pray I feel the promise is not vain, that morn shall tearless be.

In the midst of a thriving ministry in Glasgow, Scotland, Arthur Gossip's wife unexpectedly collapsed and died.  Mounting his pulpit the next Sunday, Gossip preached one of the most memorable sermons, ever:  "When Life Tumbles In, Then What?'   His sermon is filled with riveting truth, but none more convicting, than Gossip's conclusion in the midst of the 'hell of it all."

“I do not understand this life of ours.  But still less can I comprehend how people in trouble and loss…can fling away peevishly from the Christian faith.  In God’s name, fling to what?  Have we not lost enough without losing that too? 

And so, yes, we've lost mother and more.  But dare we fling away peevishly from our faith, and lose God, as well?

I think not.   For, yes...

"When my heart was grieved and my spirit embittered, I was senseless and ignorant; I was a brute beast before you. 

Yet I am always with you; you hold me by my right hand. You guide me with your counsel,and afterward you will take me into glory. 

Whom have I in heaven but you? And earth has nothing I desire besides you. 

My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever."  (Psalm 73:21-26, emphasis added)