“Markers”

A lot’s happened since I last wrote.  I had another born again (again) birthday on April 28th.  I had another blood check around that same time (and all is indeed well).  I finished the study I’ve been doing this year with Community Bible (CBS’s Servants of God study).  I spoke at an event in Youngsville, N.C. Mother’s Day weekend, sharing my story with what might be the largest group of women yet (at a most lovely mother/daughter tea).  But, none of this “remarkable” stuff is what I most feel like writing about right now, because today is another “marker” of sorts; today is actually the 18th “anniversary” of my father’s death, which was ruled a suicide.

I wonder if others who’ve gone through “questionable” deaths of those they dearly love do what I’ve recently begun to do.  I’ve begun to speak about Dad’s death using words implying that there are still questions.  For example, he “supposedly” shot himself.  And I’ve wondered if maybe I do this, at least in part, because he didn’t leave a note.  But, even if he had, I’m not so sure that there’d be any more closure.  The human condition is just really hard to accept sometimes, even and perhaps especially when it’s the “condition” of someone whom we love and admire beyond words.  That’s how I felt about my dad.   Yes, even things that clearly happened are often still hard to accept; and the number of years since such things happened doesn’t necessarily make it easier to accept whatever it is that did happen.  And, at the end of the day, this day and every other one down here, there’ll probably always be questions.

When I was speaking this weekend, I told the women at Flat Rock (the church I was at) that I think the grief we feel when we go through catastrophic events in this life never really ends–the degree of our grief simply changes from one season to another.  And I feel like I’m proving this assertion to be true today.  I woke up thinking about my father.  I woke up missing him.  I woke up wishing he was still here.  I didn’t, however, wake up unable to function, which years ago I did; and I didn’t feel like I had to clear my whole schedule today and “treat” myself, which I’ve often done in years past.  I do feel somewhat melancholy, though, and I am moving more slowly than usual as life does feel a little bit heavier today.

I believe it was C.S. Lewis whom I heard say once that until we really start to grasp how “fallen” we are we’ll never be able to begin to understand the depth of God’s love for us.  So, following this train of thought, I would have to say that nothing has taught me more about the depth of God’s love for me than my father’s “supposed” suicide.  You see, I believe my dad adored me.  And he had assured me many, many times that he’d be there for me; he had even assured me that he wouldn’t hurt himself.

Yet, he did.  He was fallible–we all are too.  Eventually, each and every one of us will hurt one another in some way.  I still don’t exactly understand how God can love us in such a state as we are in right now–except that God’s both in and outside of time as we know it and can thus see us complete and restored already.  And, as I also said to that bunch of lovely ladies this weekend, we need to remember too that, once we’re “believers,” God sees us like he sees Christ; we are unblemished–“unmarked.”  But, I so don’t feel that way right now.  I feel very marked up by this life down here.

I’ve been thinking today about the use of the word “markers.”  I had the “marker” for cancer once upon a time.  Today is a “marker” for the day that my dad died.  Our children color with “markers” (which are thankfully often washable).  Yes, this life down here now is full of all kinds of markers/marks.  And though lots of these marks do feel permanent, I’m confident that they’re not.  I believe what God says even when there seems to be many reasons not to–and he tells us that none of our unseemly marks are forever ones.  There is one person, though, who does have forever marks, and that person is the Son of God.  Yes, Christ agreed to be “marked” permanently so that the rest of us wouldn’t have to be.  That is Love; and that is God.

Christ’s follower, the ever-doubting Thomas, saw these marks on the other side of Jesus’ resurrection.  Thomas had actually refused to believe Jesus had conquered death until he did see them.  Yep, Thomas had to meet Jesus’ marks–and Jesus allowed him to because he knew how very much Thomas needed it.  God is sweet that way.  He knows what we need even before we do.  And I want to thank God today that a few permanent, redeeming marks do indeed exist because such marks let me know that my dad, though gone from here now, really is ok.