This is a photo from my old Alameda church directory when I was a student at OU. This is Mark and Melinda Evans, both in their mid-twenties, and their first child, a newborn. There is so much a photo tells – a thousand words, so to speak – but there is also so much a photo does not say. There are things we want a photo like this to tell: a story of a beautiful family, a wonderful high school sweethearts love story that will continue into old age as they build a fairytale life together. A story of a happy growing family serving the Lord together and quietly enjoying life. Perhaps there will be some adventures, some excitement, some interesting stories to remember along the way. There are one or two more children who grow up happy and strong and start families of their own. This is a photo that we assume foreshadows the kind of life and experience that in some deep place, all of us want.
But there is only so much a photo can tell. It is, in fact, very limited. If you transport yourself to circa 2001, when this moment in time was captured, you would have no idea what story would end up transpiring. You would have no idea that the picture now, nine years later, would be one of a single father who has tragically lost that beautiful wife to the ravages of cancer – at the age of 31. A father who now has to find his way in life with his now three children, releasing notes pinned to balloons to float to heaven – their only way to communicate with mommy they will have barely known. Sadly, we know that the picture does not now tell the same fairytale story it once seemed to.
And even if you snapped a picture of Mark and children at their best in this new moment of time (late 2007), it still would not indicate to you what would happen next. It would give you no idea that Mark would release Melinda to God in his heart and fall in love again – to a beautiful, vivacious young woman named Leslie who would become his new wife. You would not know that this new woman would courageously take on her new role as mother to his children. But you would be happy to learn this, and delighted that this new relationship would become not just a family with a new mom, but a growing one – Leslie is pregnant with twins!
Now, a new picture, right? Finally, after a dark time of loss, all has been righted – it is now a beautiful picture that has finally brought Mark and his children a new direction – one filled with hope and happiness. A new picture that indicates, finally, a happily ever after. But stop – aren’t we doing what we did before? What is it that we so fervently want to read into these new events? I want to know that this picture says that Mark and family will now have what they deserve.
But what you still do not know is what actually lies ahead – a sudden complication in the pregnancy. A hospital stay that results in labor at the wrong time. Delivery of two small babies unable to survive their own birth. More pain and tragedy! Two dead children to mourn. Now what could be worse? A lot – a blockage forms in Leslie’s heart, her blood stops pumping, and her brain loses oxygen for 17 minutes. Irreparable brain damage and permanent coma. A week and a half later, Leslie’s life is finished at age 28. Mark is now a single father again – two loves of his life, dead. Two small children who did not even receive a day of life, dead. What that happy, beautiful photo from 2001 does not tell us is the impending story of unimaginable pain and loss that would be delivered to Mark.
Our next steps are not known to us. God has tried from the beginning of time to help us realize this. Even Jesus himself said there were things about the future that he was not privy to (Matt. 24:36). Yet we keep assuming the future and begging God to know his plan. There are times when I believe that the last thing God wants to do for us is reveal his plan. What would you do today if God told you “I’m going to make you endure the death of two wives and two children”? Mary could barely even handle being told that she would be the mother of the new heir of God’s kingdom. Zechariah definitely couldn’t swallow a similar message about his own child. I hope it’s not too depressing, but God’s presence in our lives does not always amount to the wonderful “blessings” that we want it to be. It is the presence of power; it is the presence of wisdom. It is the presence of the God that, as one of the great human sufferers said, gives and takes away (Job 1:21). He does so in a way that he knows is right, whether it feels that way to us or not. God’s wisdom is not our own, and I believe that is exactly why it is not for us to cast our eyes into tomorrow. We may not like what we see.
Why did Melinda and Leslie have to die? Why did Mark have to suffer the deaths of two wives and two children? I wish someone had solid answers for that. I’m not going to try to create nice-sounding ones. But thankfully I know that even though we don’t know about the rest of today or tomorrow, we know the end. We know that we are the subjects of a power that is greater than us, and we do well to submit to it, because its promises are perfect. We know that though this power may pull us through the darkest valleys and the worst tortures for a period of time, it has promised to go with us. Indeed, God sent himself through death itself. So we know that, even at what for many of us would be one of the most unimaginably darkest and most tragic places in life, God is willing something perfect. It’s not for us to ask why, because we probably wouldn’t understand anyway. It’s for us to say “I need help.” It’s what we should be saying anyway, because truthfully it’s our only hope of any kind of security.
When we look at pictures of ourselves with our family and friends, let us thank God for the blessings of yesterday and today, but know, deep in our hearts, that none of that is guaranteed for tomorrow. And in God’s world, that’s okay.
Please continue to pray for Mark. The funeral for Leslie and the two babies, Marisa and Mac, is Tuesday, October 11.
October 12th, 2010 at 3:34 pm
Cary I don’t know you, but you are a brilliant writer in the way you presented your thoughts to us. I just returned from the service for Leslie and I cried when I read what you wrote. I was also uplifted in what you said. Thanks for sharing this with us.