BLESSED ASSURANCE. Pts. 1-3 (a.k.a. Neither Gone, Nor Forgotten)

She was a year behind me in school, but was in my choral group, and I knew her, as it were, from a distance.

It always seemed to me that her friends lingered, and were reticent to leave her. And it seemed her smile betrayed some hidden secret which begged to be found out. I think she knew how to be a friend.

Sadly, Beth was denied the privilege of years, and passed away in a one vehicle accident; just three months short of her high school graduation.

I only met her father, Paul, a couple years before he left to be with the Lord. It seems he knew my father, and, of course, I made him aware of my having known Beth, and Elaine; another daughter who had “left us before her time.”

I was a “man on a mission,” since I was aware that his late wife, Martha, had written a self-published autobiography, and I was especially keen to read the chapter related to Beth’s passing.

Paul made me aware that of the several hundred volumes which had been printed, only two remained in his personal library. A paperback and a loose-leafed copy. Of course, I begged his indulgence, and asked whether I might borrow one of the volumes. While Paul seemed reticent to loan out one of the remaining copies, he finally relented; (though he was sure to write down my full name, address, and phone number before releasing the book to me).

I think I must have read Martha’s work in record time, and as I expected the chapter concerning Beth’s untimely death was the most poignant of them all.

Just so inestimably sad.

Pt. 2

It might be helpful for you to understand that Beth’s father was the Minister of Music at a local Baptist church, while her mother was the organist. They were people of faith, but the loss of their 17 year old daughter challenged their faith, like nothing to which they’d ever been exposed.

Martha’s small volume characterized the night of the tragedy, and the parent’s experience at the hospital. But I will spare you the details; since this facet of the chapter is not where I wish to take you.

But allow me to digress a bit to help you understand the caliber of this all too brief life, and to paraphrase her mother’s words on the subject.

Beth did everything with fervor. She absolutely loved life, and would share both her joys and small and sundry trials with us. She was a vibrant, caring young lady who would, without reservation, give you her last penny if you asked for it.

She was obedient to her father and me, and was hyper-sensitive about anything hasty she might say, as the result of having a worse than average day, and she was quick to apologize. While Beth was far from perfect, she was a delight to be with.

Beth was a better than average student, and participated in several extra-curricular activities. She was president of the Lionettes Club, and was especially proud of her role; since her father’s Lions Club sponsored it. She loved Summerlin Institute, and especially enjoyed singing in the glee club.

However, her church life was so much more important to her than anything else. She assisted her dad in leading the youth choir, and teaching Sunday School. She was a member of the Girl’s Auxiliary, and after four years of scripture memorization, involvement with missions projects, and the study of Southern Baptist life, she attained the highest possible rank in this youth organization, that of ‘Queen Regent.’

Pt. 3

(To continue her mother’s characterization of this precious, all too brief life).

Almost a quarter of a century has transpired since our dear daughter left us, though she remains very much alive in the life of our family. God has used her death to impact many others along the way, and we have used our excruciating experience to help others during their time of grief.

While it was inestimably difficult to pass through the valley of the shadow of death, I am happy to say that our Savior has led us all the way, and that in our most trying times, God never forsook us.

(But following is where I most wanted to bring you this evening).

Beth had hardly been gone three months when I began to dread Mother’s Day. Our daughter had always been so loving and thoughtful on holidays, and I knew that it would be a difficult 24 hours. But I had my duties at the organ, and I realized that it was a day that would just have to be lived, and put behind us.

On Mother’s Day morning, as I was in the process of getting dressed, I reached to get something out of my drawer. The drawer was stuck, and I jerked it open. When I did, it fell out on the floor, and all its contents were scattered across the room. Of course, I was frustrated, and exclaimed, “Lord, I don’t need this. Not today.”

Reaching up under the space from which I pulled the drawer, I felt around …and touched a large envelope. I inhaled deeply. In my hand I held a Mother’s Day card which Beth had given to me the previous year. I opened it, and wept, as I read the familiar handwriting.

It had been God’s way of providing me the courage I had so badly needed. This uncanny, almost miraculous occurrence gave me joy which remained with me throughout that day which I had so dreaded. As I reflect on this event, I never cease to be amazed at the peace which overwhelmed me at that moment, with my confidence that Beth now looks into the face of her Savior, and that I will most assuredly see her again one day.

*Pts. 2&3, Paraphrase of excerpt, "Prunes, Pride & Vinegar Pie" by Martha Puckett.

Also see "Grief Postponed." Same subject and person to which this blog refers.

(Mc)Donald's Daily Diary. Vol. 75. By William McDonald, PhD. Copyright pending.

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