The portrait...

I can see you fly.
You are an angel with wings,
high above the ground.
(traditional haiku)

Recently, I’ve had this self-portrait Sara did in college sitting out where I can see it every day. It’s been on display in my dining room, where I get to look at it several times each day. I found it while sorting through some of her things a few months ago. My first thought was that it was “so Sara.” Most people would look at it and immediately think, or notice, that it’s just “not done.” The parts that are “finished” showcase her exceptional eye for, and use of, color and her attention to detail. It also showcases Sara’s penchant for starting projects…then letting them sit, unfinished, until she was ready to see them finished.

Thematically, it would be easy to say this self-portrait is the perfect analogy of Sara and Miranda’s lives – unfinished portraits, lives cut too short. However, I find I’ve been trying to focus on the portrait as a statement of life from the perspective of my faith. In Psalm 139:16, the Psalmist declares, “Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.” (NIV) In the book Through A Season of Grief, Dr. Louis Palau shares, "The Bible clearly teaches that a brief life is not an incomplete life. We have our ideas of how long we should live, but the Bible says that every one of our days was written in God's book before they even happened.” You and I may look at Sara and Miranda’s lives as incomplete portraits…but in God’s eyes, they are exactly as He knew they would be. To be clear, I don’t believe this means their lives were as He planned them to be; only that they were as He knew they would be. To some of you, that may not sound like much of a difference, while to others it may sound like a huge difference; I find myself having to believe that God’s knowledge of their days, and deaths, doesn’t have to align with His plan for their lives. I believe that God planned on Sara and Miranda living full and complete lives. It was the chaos of sin and death that interrupted His plan, stealing them from this earth, and allowing them to enter into His Glory, albeit prematurely. I understand I’m treading in some deep theological waters here, and it’s highly likely that I’m floundering and simply in desperate need of someone to toss me a spiritual life preserver; however, I have to believe…I choose to believe…that the portrait of their lives is “complete.” The painting may appear unfinished, or incomplete, but I feel privileged to have been included in the brush strokes.

All in the family...

Dear God,

It's me. Are you there? Are you listening?

The door is closed and locked. The lights are turned off. I'm laying in my bed, listening to all the children playing right outside the door of my room, and my heart hurts more than I can take. I can't leave to join in the family fellowship because my face burns and my eyes sting from the tears. All that's going through my head tonight is, "where is my little girl? Why is my little girl not here?"

Why did you give us the capacity to hurt like this? I've been trying so hard to just cling to the Rock; but, in this moment, right now, all I want is my daughter, sitting on my lap, in her Christmas jammies, her mommy at my side. Why?

Will you be there to help me through these next 3 days? Will you give me the Peace that passes ALL understanding? Will you hug my girls for me?

Sincerely,
Chad

First Christmas...

Dear Sara,

It's almost Christmas...just not the Christmas we were supposed to be having. The tree should have been surrounded by gifts for our little girl's first Christmas. Her first ornament would have been proudly on display at the front of the tree.

Our families now approach a first Christmas no one would have imagined...one without the two of you. One where jig saw puzzles just won't be as jiggy, quilts won't be as quilty, and the twinkling lights will feel a little dimmer than they did last year.

We celebrate the birth of the King of Kings, our Savior, knowing that you and Miranda stand, worshiping, in His glorious presence. However, that knowledge brings little comfort to hearts that still wish you were here. Instead, we try to fill ourselves with the hope of the Resurrection. We look forward to the reunion that is still to come...but with sadness, because of what our humanness reminds us we do not have today.

We love you. We miss you. Give Miranda a kiss from daddy.

Love,
Chad

Thanksgiving...

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving...it's been on the calendar for a while, hurtling towards us like that comet in Armageddon...only, at times, it feels there's no heroic crew preparing to save us from certain disaster.

It was easy to be thankful last year. We had been married over 14 years. We were starting the final trimester, heading quickly towards the birth of our first child. Life was simply good. Being thankful was easy, maybe too easy.

"...give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus."
1 Thessalonians 5:18

The Word makes it sound so simple. Give thanks...in all things.

I know that I have things to be thankful for this year. I have a wonderful and loving family. I have supportive and loving friends. There are thousands of Christians, around the world, who pray for me, and my and Sara's families, regularly. I know a God who cares about me, cries with me, and wants to restore me...even if I don't know why He allowed this to happen. I know that He has a plan of restoration for me, even if I don't know what it is. I have a future...even if it wasn't the future we had planned.

Today I choose to be thankful that I was married to a woman whose legacy is written on the hearts and minds of family, friends, and coworkers. A legacy of joy, beautiful smiles, creative talents, and earnest laughter. A legacy of love, poured out freely on anyone who spent time with her. Today I choose to be thankful for the great gifts that God bestowed upon my life.

"Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good; His love endures forever."
1 Chronicles 16:34

I'm also thankful for my friend, Brian Dumont, for finding and sharing photos like these, from over 15 years ago, with me.  So long ago, the only thing in front of us was the future. :)

I miss the rain

by Bride

There's a place I like to go back to

Time seemed to stand still

We ran wild, we had no cares

Take me back to the place

I wish there were a door I could walk right through

To escape this life

I want to go back to what we had

Times were better then

I miss the rain, I miss the rain

My heart's been dry, like the tear in my eye

I been hurting for you again

I miss the rain, I miss the rain

My heart's been dry, like the tear in my eye

And the pain that I feel, Lord, I miss the rain

It keeps me young when I remember

In my mind the past still lives

I've held onto every thought, it keeps me so alive

The future holds nothing for me

If I can't hold you

I used to try and change the world

Now I change a little for myself

I miss the rain, I miss the rain

My heart's been dry, like the tear in my eye

I been hurting for you again

I miss the rain, I miss the rain

My heart's been dry, like the tear in my eye

And the pain that I feel, Lord, I miss the rain

I know there are those far sadder than I

They lost things they can't replace

Like the beauty in their eyes

But through it all, one thing is constant and remains

The Love of God erases all my pain

I miss the rain, I miss the rain

My heart's been dry, like the tear in my eye

First kiss...

Dear Sara,

It was 16 years ago today...Friday, October 27, 1995. 

You had asked me to go to Homecoming with you. You, the shy girl, beat me to the punch by just a few minutes...I would have asked you...you were so pretty and I just needed a few more minutes to work up the gumption. I'm glad you asked. :)

We went to the Homecoming dinner. I remember waiting for you in the lounge, so nervous, almost giddy. You came down from your room wearing a beautiful little black dress. The night went by so fast, and yet so slowly. I remember going to the after dinner party in downtown Jackson. We watched a movie...sort of. We went for a carriage ride through the city streets...and talked about us. We'd been spending a lot of time together...friends were buzzing about whether or not we were "a thing." We walked around the downtown area for a while after the carriage ride. I asked you if you liked the thought of "us." You said, "yes." Your eyes sparkled so beautifully, you were so modest and shy. We held hands, walking close together, our joy fighting the late October chill.

We drove back to Spring Arbor and hung out in the lounge a little while longer, but not too late. I remember it was getting close to midnight and we were both getting tired. You walked outside with me, as I was walking to my car...we stopped as we got to the end of the dorm...we said good night...and I kissed you...and you kissed me. Our first kiss. It's the only first kiss I remember so vividly. I floated home that night...alive with joy and excitement.

I miss your kisses. So soft, delicate, passionate, so full of life.

I love you. I miss you. Give Miranda a kiss from daddy.

Love,
Chad

Daddy's little girl...

Dear Miranda,

Three days wasn't enough. It will never be enough. You're always with me in my heart. You're always on my mind.

I went on a trip this past weekend, down to Atlanta. I went to the aquarium and saw all sorts of neat fish and wonderful creatures. I went for a walk in their beautiful park. I saw all the other families having fun; the mommies and daddies pushing their babies in their strollers. Daddy's heart hurts so bad.

I miss you.  I love you.  Give mommy a kiss from daddy.

Love,
Daddy

You'll be my special girl...always.

The power of music....

Dear Sara,

I'm sitting here tonight, realizing it's been 8 months, to the day, since family and friends gathered together and said, "Good bye." Grief today is not nearly as potent as it was back then. Today it comes in small waves, memories lapping at the shore of my consciousness. I think about you and Miranda a lot, but no longer all day every day. I find that I don't cry as often as I used to; but, when I do, the hurt feels so fresh and powerful that it seems like I lost you yesterday.

I listen to music on the radio now, more so than I ever did when you were here. There are songs that reach out and touch me in ways that music never used to; a simple phrase from a song, a chorus repeated softly, inspired words written for others but sung directly to my heat. These tend to be the moments when those waves come crashing in. I don't fight them. Even though it hurts, it feels good to remember, to know that you're no farther away than my thoughts.

I have a playlist I recently created in iTunes called Crying Songs. I was listening to several this evening and wished that I could have sung this verse to you in those final seconds we had together. I don't know if you would have heard me or not, but it's what I wish I could have said if I'd known how bad things were.

"And with your final heartbeat
Kiss the world goodbye
Then go in peace, and laugh on Glory's side, and
Fly to Jesus
Fly to Jesus
Fly to Jesus and live!"
Untitled Hymn - Chris Rice

Fly to Jesus, my angles!

I love you.  I miss you.  Give Miranda a kiss from daddy.

Love,

Chad

8...

Dear Sara,

Will a time come when I stop counting the months since I last saw your smile? Heard your laugh? Kissed your lips? Held you close? We just passed 8...

The trees are changing color. The maple in front of our house has already changed and will lose it's leaves over the next couple of weeks. We are now entering our third season without you and Miranda. Spring...summer...winter to come soon enough...too soon.

It was sixteen years ago this month...you and I had noticed each other and started spending copious amounts of time hanging out together in the dormitory lounge. You asked me to Homecoming 16 years ago this week...it took me a long time to learn what a huge step that was for such a shy girl.

...and now it's 8 months. Eight months since death stole you from us. Eight months of wishing, wondering, learning...wishing.

I love you. I miss you. Give Miranda a kiss from daddy.

Love,
Chad

In the stillness....

Dear Sara,

It's been over 7 months, but the quietness of the house has caught me off guard. I was just looking at some pictures of you and the stillness engulfed me. I can hear the clock, ticking away softly on the family room wall. I can hear the muted sound of traffic passing by on West Ave, even with all the windows closed.

It's what I don't hear tonight that has me unsettled. I don't hear you. I don't hear you sitting silently beside me while you read a book or work on the cross stitch you were creating from scratch, without a pattern. I don't hear your sewing machine humming away in the dining room. I don't hear the sound of the shower running as you get ready for bed each night. I don't hear the sound of Stevie purring as he basks in the attention you would have lavished on him. I don't hear the sound of your heart, as I lay my head on your chest, and snuggle into your embrace. I don't hear the sound of our little girl rustling in her crib, stirring from her nap, over the baby monitor. I don't hear her cries indicating she's hungry, or wet, or just being a baby. I don't hear the giggles and coo's that would most certainly have been echoing through our home on this quiet Friday evening.

It's what I don't hear that makes my heart hurt again and causes the tears to sting in my eyes. It's what I don't hear that makes me ask why? Why couldn't we have left home 1 minute sooner...or 1 minute later? Why didn't we change our minds and just stay home when that storm came out of nowhere? Why? I know I won't find any answers. Not in this quiet. Not in this world.

I'll turn the TV on in a little bit. The house won't be so quiet...but the stillness will echo loudly in my heart.

I love you.  I miss you.  Give Miranda a kiss from daddy.

Love,
Chad

15 years...

She is Gone - by David Harkins

You can shed tears that she is gone,

Or you can smile because she has lived.

You can close your eyes and pray that she will come back,

Or you can open your eyes and see all that she has left.

Your heart can be empty because you can't see her,

Or you can be full of the love that you shared.

You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday,

Or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.

You can remember her and only that she is gone,

Or you can cherish her memory and let it live on.

You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back,

Or you can do what she would want: smile, open your eyes, love and go on.

"Out of all the gifts You’ve given

Besides the very gift of life

There is none as precious to me

As the treasure of my wife."

How Do I Love Her?

by Steven Curtis Chapman

Dear Sara,

Fifteen years ago today we stood in front of our family, friends, and God…pledging our lives, and love, to each other “until death do us part.” The “until we are old and gray, having lived long and fruitful lives” was implied. Most days it’s still hard to believe that those vows have been fulfilled…or…maybe it’s more that I don’t want to believe that they have been fulfilled. In daily conversation, you are still “my wife, Sara.”

This day has been on my mind for weeks. I’ve been completely unsure of how to approach it. Should I celebrate the fourteen and a half happy years we shared? Could I celebrate, even if I wanted to? Should I go somewhere? Should I be with people or be alone? My answer came to me late in the afternoon yesterday…maybe you sent it to me.

Last October we went up north on a color tour. It was something we had always wanted to do, but working for the public schools made taking time off work during the fall a little difficult. In retrospect, I’m obviously glad we made the time to go. We both enjoyed ourselves. It was a happy trip. We knew it was probably our last vacation with just the two of us.

One of my favorite memories from the trip was sitting out in Grand Traverse Bay, at Mission Point State Park, watching the sun set behind the Leelanau Peninsula. You were cold; I was comfortable. You snuggled in next to me as the sun went down. We had seen Miranda in an ultrasound just a week earlier; it was our first, last, and only sunset as a family. It was a perfect end to a perfect day. We were both so happy, and excited about where our lives were heading.

That brings me back to today. It finally occurred to me to go back to that happy place…a place where the future was unknown, yet filled with joy…a place where we both felt safe, happy, and content. So, that’s where I will celebrate our 15th anniversary, sitting in Grand Traverse Bay, watching the sun set over the Leelanau Peninsula. As the last rays of the sun disappear behind the horizon, I’ll sprinkle some of your and Miranda’s ashes in that place. The joy of that memory will forever exist there, as it exists in my heart.

I love you. I miss you, today more than any other. Give Miranda a kiss from daddy.

Love,
Chad