Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote:
Nothing can make up
For the absence of someone we love…
It is nonsense to say that God fills the gap, he doesn’t fill it,
But on the contrary, he keeps it empty
And so helps us to keep alive
Our former communion with each other,
Even at the cost of pain…
The dearer and richer our memories,
The more difficult the separation.
But gratitude changes the pangs of memory
Into a tranquil joy.
The beauties of the past are borne,
Not as a thorn in the flesh,
But as a precious gift in themselves.
How can gratitude change the pangs of memory into a tranquil joy when life has been cut short prematurely? How can the memories of Laura, an adventurous, creative, special soul, be transformed into a tranquil Joy? How can the beauties of the past be borne, not as a thorn in the flesh, to wound us but as a precious gift in themselves?
First, we can affirm in her life all that was true, noble and just, pure, lovely and gracious. Nothing can diminish for us the value, the worth of her life. She was born to be a teacher. She was talented musically, as an actress and a performer. Her friendship touched a lot of lives and made a lasting impression. She brought joy to the lives of very different races, ethnic groups and all kinds of people, all of whom she made comfortable with her presence: horse people, teachers, children, musicians. It does matter to us that she did everything she wanted to do in this life and gave so much to so many. Nothing can take away from us the value of 30 years of life. In our grief we need not devalue all that we have had, and can remember, of the gift of her life. As Janet Ziegler put it:
“It seems to me that she was a spiritual being having human experiences, and everywhere she went and whatever she was doing she was blessing those around her with light and joy. Every moment is precious and deserves all the good will that one can give to it, so that’s what she did. She brought her joy to life. Some people with Laura’s beauty and talent would have rested on her laurels, but not her. Besides the above, she was spunky, courageous, kind, joyful, free and light personified. She had the power to bless and she used this power in everything she did.”
James Cameron, when he received the Academy Award for his film, “Titanic”, reminded the audience that the story was real – there were hundreds of people whose lives were cut short by that disaster. But he went on to say that he wanted to draw attention to the fact that life was precious, and each moment we live, and each we live, and each person we meet, should be valued. Laura’s life reminds us of how precious life is.
Second, we can see that Laura’s life was a gift. John Claypool tells the story of the death of his daughter:
“It makes things bearable when I remember that Laura Lue was a gift, pure and simple, something I neither earned nor deserved nor had a right to. And when I remember that the appropriate response to a gift, even when it is taken away, is gratitude, then I am better able to try and thank God that I was ever given her in the first place. Even though it is very, very hard, I am doing my best to learn this discipline now. Everywhere I turn I am surrounded by reminders of her—things we did together, things she said, things she loved. And in the presence of the reminders, I have two alternatives: dwelling on the fact that she has been taken away, I can dissolve in remorse that all of this is gone forever; or, focusing on the wonder that she was given to us at all, I can be grateful that we shared life, even for an all-too-short ten years” (“Tracks of a Fellow Struggler”, p. 82)
Laura was a gift, the Lord gave to her family and friends. We do not own her. She belongs to the Lord. She was God’s to give, to lend to us, for a season. And we are grateful for that gift. “Gratitude changes the pangs of memory into a tranquil joy. The beauties of the past are borne, not as a thorn in the flesh, but as a precious gift in themselves.”
But what about the future? In two weeks time we will be reminded by Holy Week of the death of a man of thirty three years of age. The real grief of Good Friday will be replaced by the puzzled wonderment of Easter Sunday. The disciples did not understand what happened. They were slow to believe, as we are. Yet the fact remains, Jesus’ body was not to be found in the Tomb. Ours is a faith, not of the Tomb but of the Table, where Jesus breaks bread with his friends, and their eyes are opened and they recognize him. Because of this, we can look beyond our puzzlement to the promise of a future fellowship with those we love, who have trusted in the One who is the Resurrection and the Life. Laura is not lost, she is to be found at the Table of the Lord. She is not absent, but only in the next room the next world of God’s kingdom. We are only separated for a time. We will be together for eternity. So don’t grieve as those without hope. She is waiting for us. All is well. Thanks be to God.
“O Lord God, this loss hurts so. My Dead are so alive, I cannot believe I cannot touch them or speak to them. I so want them, Father so miss them. Help me; help me in this fog, which blots out my perspective on the life they now live in your hereafter. Give me hope, dear Lord God, give me hope in Christ’s own defeat of death, that one day I shall see my loved ones again; and touch them, not in the vividness of my mind’s eye; not in dreams or memories; but in that world of light to which O my loving Lord, safely bring me. Amen.” (Ruth Etchells)
Ted Schroder, Amelia Plantation Chapel, March 13, 2002