Heartaches and God's Work in Reversing Them

Tomorrow is Friday, October 16, 2009. And I know where I was 15 years ago tomorrow. I know that I sat in church with my best friends while my Dad prayed a prayer that was heartfelt and true ~ way more than I knew at that time. My family had lasagna for lunch; it was left over from the night before when we ate with my grandparents.

Looking back, though, my Daddy picked at his lunch. Strange because he was eating his momma’s lasagna and he loved her cooking.


After lunch, my mom planned to go to Milledgeville (the nearest town) to run some errands. Being 14, I wanted to do my own thing, which I’m sure included yapping on the phone, running the neighborhood with my friends, or anything typical 14 year olds do.


My Dad, though, was quite adamant that I go to Milledgeville with my mom and sister. “You need to spend some time with your mother, Bethany.” I still hear him say that over and over in my head.


You know, they say hindsight is 20/20. We see everything clearly when we look back on it and know the outcome. So it’s easy for me to say Daddy was subdued at lunch. I didn’t think much of it at the time, though. And then, there were some of Daddy’s humor sprinkled in: I chased him down the driveway as he backed out to run an errand himself. I wanted him to take a roll of film to the store to have it developed. As I reached the truck, Daddy’d gun it for a second and leave me standing there laughing. I’d chase him ten feet down the driveway, and he’d roll down the window this time. He was actually gonna let me give him that roll of film. . . . Nope. He gunned it again and farther down the drive he went. I remember laughing at how silly my Daddy was. He was laughing, too.


Daddy took that roll of film to the store for me. But he never did tell me so. That was the last time I ever spoke to my Daddy. We three girls (Momma, Jenn and me) went on to Milledgeville and ran our errands.


Later, around 5 that afternoon, I guess, I was getting ready for church. Youth Choir to be exact. The next chain of events happened so quickly I don’t even know that I can – 15 years later, even – put them into words. The phone rang. We raced down the stairs. The front door flew open. The sheriff pulled into our drive way.


And the sheriff was in tears. I knew immediately something horrible had happened.


Minutes after his three girls left, my Daddy made his way across the street, through some woods, past an open field, and to the edge of a pond. There, he shot himself. Ending his life in an instant.


Did he think of us? Did he fathom the thought of leaving us forever? Did he realize his worries were temporary?


I don’t think so.


The minutes, hours, days, weeks, and months that passed were completely full of heartache and pain. Agony and grief. Raw and real.  My Daddy's prayer that morning in church, I was later reminded, included my Daddy asking God to be with us, comfort us as we faced things in our lives we might  not understand.  How prophetic.  How true that we needed our Father.


Fast forward to today, 15 whole years later. Man alive does it still hurt. I miss Daddy still and cry now for different reasons: Tim never met my Daddy. As I’ve fallen in love with my husband more and more everyday, I’ve cried over the fact that my Momma doesn’t have my Daddy to grow old with. Ellie will have no idea what her Granddaddy was like, and he would've been a fun one for sure. Daddy was a banker, too; how many times over the last 8 years of my career have I wanted to bend his ear about something in my job? I’ve officially lived as long without my Daddy as I did with him. And really? I’ve just begun living.


With all this heartache and pain, though, I’m celebrating something today. Something beautiful and true. See, I’m in an incredible Bible Study where we’re wrapping up studying Esther. One thing our teacher’s really challenged us with is reversals. How has something terrible turned to be used for God’s glory?


This is my reversal. God used my father’s death to teach me so many things about Himself. Because of my Daddy’s suicide, I know that my Heavenly Father’s love for me is perfect, without flaw, and never fails; this is something no human on earth can ever provide for me. I know the feeling of “crawling” into my Abba Father’s lap for a good long time. It was there, in His Lap that my heart was pieced back together again. And I’d like to think it was pieced back together again with much more compassion, empathy, and love. I know I pray that all the time. I also know, though, that Satan is always at work, attacking us when we’re hurting as my Daddy was. But I know that my thought closet must be completely rooted in the truth of the Scripture. No lies are good. I know that regardless of what comes my way on this earth, that my Heavenly Father is carrying me through.  Because of this heartache, I know Psalm 40:2 - 3 to be true:

"He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand. He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God.  Many will see and fear and put their trust in the Lord."

And for that, I am eternally grateful.