It was the Sunday after the Thursday. And actually, it was the Sunday drawing a year of waiting to a closing that wanted to shout, but it was a Sunday that was still pulsing with deep thought and emotion, still attempting to conceptualize the meaning of the gift God had given. And in reality, it was a Sunday over forty-three years after the question was first asked. And we were singing with the congregation my oldest son, Chad, and his family are a part of, a vibrant church, closely knit, in Summerville, South Carolina, on the outskirts of Charleston. Chris Tomlin’s lyrics resonated with my spirit because I knew their reality. Amazing grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me. I once was lost, but now I'm found, was blind, but now I see. ... My chains are gone – I've been set free. My God, my Savior, has ransomed me. And like a flood His mercy reigns, unending love, amazing grace. But then, on this Sunday after the Thursday, we sang of eternity............. The earth shall soon dissolve like snow; the sun forbear to shine. But God, Who called me here below, will be forever mine, will be forever mine.
And with my emotions and my heart fully engaged, and a raw place deep within me beginning to soften, we sang another of Chris Tomlin’s songs. And again, we sang of eternity. Forever God is faithful. Forever God is strong. Forever God is with us – forever, forever. And this time, though my spirit struggled to sing out the message, the music was silent, but my heart and my being were much alive with the reality of truth. I remembered words I had written many years before. Words I had written, had shared with others, and had lived. The moment of conception is the beginning of eternity. Life on earth is a prelude to the far greater eternity that death opens the door to. The question my husband and I had asked over forty-three years ago was “Where is the body of our baby daughter?” Her death had come within minutes of her birth, and with the hope of helping others, her body had been donated for medical research. We never questioned where her spirit was, because we knew that she danced and played in the presence of Jesus. We had “lost,” but she had gained, and yet, we still loved, we still remembered, we were still impacted by her life and we chose over and over to honor her, but we still questioned, “Where is her body?”
The year of waiting began when our question was answered, and the how of that answer, is another story. We waited a year for the Thursday. The Thursday before we sang Chris Tomlin’s words in church with our son. On the Thursday, we had visited for the very first time the burial place of our daughter – the marker at her gravesite appropriately said, “Let the little children come to Me....” In death, our daughter, Tonia, was honored, as were many others who gave beyond the grave. She was buried at St. Lawrence Cemetery in the middle of downtown historic Charleston, not far from where we sang the Sunday after the Thursday. And once again, on the Sunday morning, I remembered words I had written before, As much as her earthly story means to me, her Heavenly story is so much more important, so much more full of hope and expectancy. And, I was reminded again that God tenderly holds it all in His hands. Forever God is faithful. Forever God is strong. Forever God is with us – forever, forever. With me. With my husband. With my child.
– Bev
(Related Bible reading: Psalm 89:1,2,5-8)
