As the warm poison began to rush through her veins and the lucid heat crept up her neck, seizing her brain, I wonder what she thought. Was there a peaceful transition into forever sleep or a momentary panic as she realized this bitter taste she yearned for would be her last? Just before crossing the threshold into eternity, was there a whispered prayer of acknowledgment and repentance to a God she had not yet grasped in this life? I will choose to believe there was, for He loved her more than any of us. How long He had pursued her…from her conception to the floor, where she was discovered with a needle still in her arm. How He longed to engage her beautiful heart…to fill her with His Spirit and overwhelm her with His love. I choose to believe His relentless pursuit ended in her acceptance of Him, and that she has joined the crowd of witnesses beyond the clouds who are waiting to be with us again in eternity. And if that’s not what happened, I don’t want to know.
I saw the reflection of God in her, time and again, in her writing and her passion and in her boundless love of her daughter. The witty, perfectly sarcastic, idealistic scholar that was at the core of who she was had simply been overpowered by whispered lies of an enemy who told her she would never make it. He hissed that she was broken beyond repair and that her dreams would never come to light. Piece by piece he stole her identity and replaced it with a warped, funhouse mirror-style image. Those who loved her had no idea the depths to which the lies had permeated. We all believed in her. She had such hope…or at least a hard-headed tenacity that we were sure would never quit. But one compromise too many landed her there…on that dirty floor, in an empty house, chasing a peace that could never be found in any drug.
It’s so hard to say goodbye to this girl who was so much like me. That could have been me. This blonde-haired, blue-eyed beauty who surpassed niece status and delved into the depths of a friendship that I will now never know in its fullness…she has broken a place in my heart that can only be healed by the One who crafted it. In time, I know He will. But there’s a beautiful thing about brokenness. It cracks open things that have been closed and it allows light to shine through.
Through this tragedy, I saw our family come together in uncommon, unprecedented unity to ensure the long-term love and care for the sweet, two-year-old little girl who lost her momma that day. Not just immediate family, but extended family—including a dad who loves his daughter so much, he was willing to forego his own desires to provide what was in the best interest of the blue-eyed, curly-top who so closely resembles the woman he loved. I saw funds pour from unexpected places to help cover final expenses for the one we lost and to begin a small nest egg for the future of the child. There was even an opportunity to reach out to others in the love of Jesus and to pray with people whom I may not have otherwise known. There was a solemn, elegant beauty that shined out of the broken.
One of the most amazing things I personally experienced was the release of a 30-year hurt. I thought it was gone, but undetectable remnants remained deep inside of my heart from the loss of my two sisters who died when I was 15 years old. They passed away within a month of each other. Barely knowing anything of God or the Bible, I had prayed for them, but they died anyway. My mom was broken beyond description and my last, remaining sister had lost her two best friends. Neither could really help me get through this time. No one at school knew what had happened, and the two youth groups/churches I had attended didn’t even call to see if I was okay. I groped my way through the darkness, feeling very much abandoned and alone. With no one to help me navigate these waters, I decided there was no God. My perception was that God was absent and these so-called Christians left me when I needed someone the most, and if this is Christianity, I wanted none of it. This began my own battle with feelings of insignificance, drugs, and running from God.
Again…She was so much like me.
But in the funeral home, on the day we said goodbye to my girl, there was a moment that I’ll never forget. I can’t really do it justice with mere words, but I will try. My pastors and their family had already arrived at the memorial service. Other members of my church family were there as well and some were at the house, preparing the repast. It was so amazing to see the way the entire church came together to support us during this time. But as I was greeting people at the door, I was completely enveloped by a group of ladies, my very dear friends, from my former church…the church where I had worked until just last year. I had spent every day (and quite a few late nights!) with these ladies for nearly five years. I can’t even describe to you how much I still miss seeing them every day. But here they were, in force, and I completely fell apart.
As I hugged “the tiny one” who has the heart of a lion, I felt the walls of long-forgotten strongholds in my life beginning to crumble. Having felt so abandoned by two churches when my sisters passed, here was the core of two churches, reaching out to me during this devastating time of loss. Recompense was here in flesh form. Completely broken before God, I realized what He was doing. In my spirit, I cried, “Thank you, Daddy! This was buried so deep…I had forgotten it was even there!” To which my Father simply replied, “I didn’t.”
My God is a God of complete and total restoration. Though we may bury something and possibly even forget it’s there, He never does. In our pain, He is Comforter. In our weaknesses, He is strong. In our brokenness, He is light.
I could have walked through this loss, focused on the hurt and reeling from the pain. But for my own sake and for the sake of others, I had to make a conscious decision to see the goodness God was working out of the sorrow. I still miss her. Every time I pass by the gas station where she worked, drive down the street I used to take to her apartment, or look at the face of that amazing girl she left behind, I still get a twinge of pain. Though it will change over time, I suppose I always will. But choosing to focus on the things God is doing through this loss, it gives me hope and a mission to impact the lives of anyone else out there who is struggling silently behind a mask of “everything is okay.”
I absolutely refuse to allow my sweet Sara’s death to be in vain. Her life will not be defined by her tragic death. Rather, let it be defined by the inspiration she was to so many of us in life, and the catalyst her death became for healing in others after she was gone. Let us see the broken people before it’s too late and remind them that there is a better way. Let’s break through the walls of solitude that our society is living in and get all up in each other’s business again…not to judge or control, but to love and encourage. THIS is how we can kick the enemy in the teeth for what he has stolen from us. This is hope for others who would also have been stolen but will now be saved. This is the light that shines through the darkness.
The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. – John 1:5 (NIV)
220 Gal 
Well, when you decide to write you do it right! I can hardly see to type through the tears. I had no idea you had suffered this loss. My heart is breaking into a thousand pieces for you. Thank you for being brave enough to share such a personal tragedy with us. And for reminding us that our Heavenly Daddy can take the absolutely worst of our moments and use them for His good and His glory in our lives. Thank you and God Bless you! Kristi
LikeLike
Thank you, Kristi! Your words mean so much to me, both as a writer and a friend/family member. It has been a tough few weeks, but God's goodness and mercy have definitely carried us through. ❤️
LikeLike
Beautiful Lisa!
LikeLike
Thank you, Kati. ❤️
LikeLike
Beautifully written. Continued prayers for you and your family. Love & Forgiveness prevails!
LikeLike
Those prayers that have been going up on our behalf are making all the difference in the world. Thank you so much, Charnette!
LikeLike
Beautiful Lisa. And so moving
LikeLike
Thank you, Donna. ❤️
LikeLike
This is absolutely beautiful and I had to compose myself to type this. I miss Sara. I wasn't close to her anymore when we lost her because of a stupid fight and my stubbornness to forgive. I wish every single day now that everything would have been different but it also taught me to forgive and cherish the people close to me because you never know when your time is up. She was so brilliant though and everything about her was beautiful. Her smile, her personality. No where else can i find that. She reassured me a million times when I was pregnant with my oldest daughter that I would be a good mom and that I was able to take care of her right. We should have still been talking. She would have talked to me if I would have just tried.
LikeLike
This is so beautiful Lisa.
LikeLike
I pray you'll find a way to forgive yourself, Raven. Sara loved you and I'm certain she forgave you in her heart. ❤
LikeLike
Thank you, Karen. I love you, my friend! ❤
LikeLike
This is so powerful. I am also trying to write this through my tears. This moved me in such a deep way. Pain, loss, and grief are never easy things to navigate through and it's so easy to let our hearts become paralizyed in the depths of despair and numbness. However, through your writing, you took us on a beautiful story that unfolded what it looks like to fully feel your pain, to grieve deeply, to mourn your loss but instead of getting lost in despair, you found a well of relentless love in our Father and the deepest of healing and redemption. He truly does make beauty from ashes. Thank you for your vulnerability, Lisa. Thank you for unveiling your heart, your pain, and your healing. This journey is beautiful and I know the Lord's work is going to run deep through it in so many hearts, including mine. You're a gem and I miss you dearly.
LikeLike
Oh, Stephanie…You have always had such a sweet and tender spirit. Thank you for your kind words and for your heart of compassion. It was so hard to let that girl go, but God is truly our ever-present help in times of need. He has brought such purpose out of this tragedy…beauty for ashes, just as His Word says. I love you, sweet girl! We miss you too!
LikeLike