His face stared up at me from the screen. Laughing. Mischievous. All the cheek and charm that only a two-year-old boy can muster. Big brown eyes. Blonde hair. Dimples. Simply gorgeous.
And dead. Killed in a machinery accident on his family’s farm. I couldn’t believe it, and tears poured down my cheeks for his loss. They still do. His parents are my friends, although we don’t see much of each other, being separated by distance. I cannot comprehend how they are dealing with his loss. It seems more than any human being should have to bear.
Why?
All the questions rage inside. His parents love God – so why did God allow this to happen to them? Why didn’t He protect this precious little life? This was a miracle child, born after a struggle to have one, and all the more cherished for it. The cruelty, and bitterness of this loss is only magnified by this wider perspective. When tragedy strikes, it is with a crushing blow.
Face To Face With Tragedy
And then I saw them, at a church convention. For many people, this convention is a highlight of the year, and no doubt they were looking forward to it long before this tragedy struck a mere month earlier. I was surprised to see them. Somehow it seems that when someone experiences a tragedy, normal life grinds to a halt. I hesitated: what do you say to someone who has just lost a child? Surely the grief must be so raw that it’s palpable. What if I cried and it made them uncomfortable? Would I know what to say?
It didn’t matter. No matter how it came out, I had to say it. I went up to them.
“I’ve been praying for you guys,” I said. Dale turned to me.
“Thank you,” he said. “Lots of people have been praying for us.” He paused and looked down at his hands. “It’s really hard being here, but in some ways it’s good too, to have downtime. It’s hard to focus on work at home.” I thought of the plans they must have had for this convention. Taking their little man to the beginners’ program, to sing songs and play games and do craft with the other little ones. Now, here they were, sitting in a meeting for adults because they had no reason to go to a program for two-year-olds.
Life Has To Go On
Dale spoke again.
“We have to go on living life as normally as we can,” he said. “We have a responsibility to our two older kids, and they really wanted to come this year.”
“The resurrection day will be amazing,” I said softly.
“I’m looking forward to that day,” said Dale. “I can’t wait.”
Jess, his wife, finished her phone call and turned to me.
“You remember Kate, don’t you, Jess?” Dale asked.
“We met quite a long time ago,” she said. “Nice to see you again.” She was wearing splashes of yellow, with a yellow ribbon in her hair. Beside her was her crocheting project.
“What are you making?” I asked her.
“It’s a blanket,” she said. “I’m not very good at it, but it’s mostly to help me stay busy.”
“I was just saying to Dale that I’ve been praying for you guys,” I said. She smiled, a sweet serenity on her face that was nevertheless etched with the sorrow that is now her life.
“Thank you,” she said. “A lot of people have been praying for us, and I’m sure it’s helping. Sometimes we feel that when we can’t keep going those prayers lift us up so we can go a bit further.”
“Losing a child is one of the hardest things you can go through,” said Dale. “It’s only the prayers that keep us going some days.”
“I can’t imagine how hard it is for you,” I replied. “I cried for two weeks for you guys.”
“We buried him on our property,” said Dale. “That’s really hard too, but we couldn’t imagine him being anywhere else. We were able to get permission because there was already a grave on the property.”
Tragedy Affects Everyone
“About a hundred years ago there was a baby girl buried there. Mavi is buried beside her. He’ll be happy on the resurrection day to wake up next to her. He loved babies,” said Jess. She got out her phone and opened the photo gallery. Mavi’s happy little face beamed up at me. The grief struck again as I listened to Jess.
“The house is so different now without him,” she said. “It’s like his personality filled it up, and now it’s empty. When his body died his spirit and presence went as well.” I could picture the silent house, the shock of loss muting daily life and blurring ordinary activities.
“Our church family are grieving too. He was there every week, full of personality, and playing with his little friends, and the whole church is in mourning. When we get to heaven, Mavi’s friends will be all grown up, and he will still be little.”
When tragedy strikes, it never strikes just one person,” I said. “It affects everyone.”
“I’m really sorry for everyone else,” said Jess. “I’m sorry they have to be sad for us.” I was amazed at her capacity for caring about other people in the midst of her own tragedy. “Everyone has been so good to us,” she added. I could see for myself that this family is wrapped in a blanket of love by those around them. People coming up to them and hugging them, saying sorry. Friends just being with them to keep them company. Others helping them to be as normal as possible. Helping them financially.
Peace and Pain
Dale asked about my family, especially my brother, who is not well.
“Tell him I’ll be praying for him,” he said, and again I was amazed at his capacity to care in the midst of his own sorrow. How do they have the emotional resilience to give when their grief is still so raw and new? Their eyes didn’t lie: there was grief, fresh, undiluted grief there. Yet, they both had a serenity and peace about them, along with a knowledge of the difficult path ahead as they navigate the pain around every corner, the reminders in every facet of life. The emptiness, and the silence. They know it won’t be easy.
Yet, love still flows to each other and those around them. Peace in the midst of pain. Serenity shining through tragedy. There is an inner strength in both of them that can only come from somewhere outside of them and their situation. Gutted, but somehow whole. Bearing one of the hardest crosses a human could ever bear, yet doing so with grace. Tragedy and serenity. Peace and pain. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but what I found set my own heart at peace on their behalf: Someone bigger than their situation cares for them and they have hope. It is their hope, above all else, that sustains them.
Death Is Not Forever
For them, the death of their darling little Mavi is not forever. Nor is he some nebulous presence floating around in heaven watching them struggle and grieve on earth. For them, in harmony with their belief in what the Bible teaches, their precious little boy is sleeping in the ground until Jesus, the great Life Giver, returns and calls him back to life. They know beyond a shadow of a doubt that they will one day have him again in their arms. The picture of what that day will be like is real. They are actively visualizing him alive again, running around, playing with his friends, busy and noisy and full of the joy of living. He will again be a real, flesh and blood little boy who loves his mummy and daddy. The waiting time is hard. The grief is hard to bear. But death and grief will not have the final word in this situation. They are not forever, nor is the suffering. One day it will be over, vanquished forever by One who is greater than both. And for now, that hope is enough.
Hopeful Goodbye
The funeral was huge. Two hundred and fifty people packed the church and grounds, members of the community who came to show they care. Even the emergency services people who attended the accident scene came to pay their respects. And each one of those people heard the message that death is not forever. Nor is it some hazy future of harps and clouds whilst watching loved ones on earth go through grief and tragedy and trials.
Each one of those people heard the message of hope that sustains Dale and Jess. Every person heard of the One who is greater than death, calamity, and tragedy. They listened to the hope of the resurrection day, when Jesus will return and wake little Mavi up. Everyone saw the love flowing between family members, under circumstances when isolation and blame would be forgiven, even considered normal. And each person caught a glimpse, behind the scenes, of the One who sustains their hope. The One who grieves with them. The One who knows what it is like to lose a son because He has experienced it too. He knows. He feels their pain and grieves right along with them.
And so, in the midst of their pain, there is purpose. It is not wasted pain. It has already helped others to catch a glimpse of the God who loves them, too. And I have no doubt that the time will come when this couple uses their experience to bring comfort and hope to others who are grieving. Somehow, good things will come out of this horrible, awful, incomprehensible tragedy. And one day, it will be banished forever. May that day come soon.
You can watch their story here.
