A Sad Sad Week

Orange tiger lilies, queen Anne’s lace, and yellow black-eyed Susans line our country roads now. Gerald is eating onions from his garden, and some neighbors already have tomatoes for their table.  Our former baby rabbits are big enough that we see them often.  Everything is beautiful. Summer is here, and the corn is tall thanks to the frequent rains.

Unfortunately, tears  have also been  frequent in our community and in near-by communities this past week.  Hearts have been broken, parents terrified, and lives changed forever.  In small communities, there is such an entanglement of ties between people that a tragic accident can impact almost everyone, and that has happened to us.  

A group of families here started a new congregation a few years ago.  They named themselves Living Stone Church and eventually were able to buy a small church building in the tiny village of New Dennison, where an older congregation had lost almost all its members to death and people moving away. I was thrilled that the new congregation bought this nearby building in our farm neighborhood by giving a generous amount to the Baptist Children’s Home in Carmi.  I felt that was such a fine memorial to the ones who had built and belonged to the congregation that died.   Their building would not only continue to used for worship and education, but the children at the Carmi home would benefit.

Continuing their interest in children, Living Stone congregation recently called  Christopher Shane Williams to be a youth pastor, and evidently he had already succeeded in creating influential friendships with these kids just as he had when he worked with youth at Marion Third and wherever he went.  Living Stone Church planned a mission trip for the kids to work all day at a homeless shelter in nearby Evansville, IN.  Then they would stay overnight and be treated to fun at Holiday World before coming back home.  They stopped to have a final supper together before the group started back to Illinois, and Chris gave a devotional.

Shortly after that, the unthinkable happened when one van blew a tire and somehow  was hit by a semi truck going in the same direction.  Chris, 28, was killed leaving behind his beloved Aimee, their 13-month old daughter Abbi, and a baby expected in November.  The semi driver and five others were hurt.  Literally hundreds and hundreds have been praying for these injured as well as for the Williams family.  One by one, the hurt were treated and released from the hospital except two recent eighth grade graduates, who were the most seriously injured. I did not know the girls personally but knew their families.  These two girls were close friends with our next door neighbor, who also just finished eighth grade.

One of the girls has been in critical condition in a medically induced coma fighting for her life.   The other in serious condition has had surgery and will be in a wheelchair and having physical therapy for a long time to come, but today she was allowed to go home from the Evansville hospital. Her photo on Facebook on the site dedicated to the two girls has a photo of her absolutely beaming and telling us she went in to her friend’s room  and waved goodbye.  Both girls have a long way to go, but their parents on the Facebook site are reporting all the answered prayers, and the community is rejoicing. Orange ribbons (Crab Orchard school color) dot the highway fence at New Dennison left behind from a prayer rally a day or so after the accident at Living Stone Church.

On their eighth wedding anniversary a short time ago, Chris’s wife Aimee wrote a beautiful tribute on Facebook to Chris and cited all he had done for her.  Aimee’s family are all writers and they express themselves well through the written word. Aimee was able to assure us since the accident that despite her enormous grief and the impossibility of understanding why this accident happened, she has faith in the love and purpose of God just as Chris did.  Aimee has just been through watching Sam White, her father. fight leukemia and then endured his death, which happened on Valentine’s Day.   Her father had been pastor for nine years in our village church in Crab Orchard,  and Aimee and Chris met and were married there. We had watched Pam and her three adult  children, while holding down challenging careers, struggle to help Sam in the Saint Louis hospital for most of  his almost year of illness. We were all so hopeful when Sam’s brother Cecil came from California and gave what was first thought was a successful stem cell implant. But sadly our hope was denied that Sam would be well again and able to use his education and experience and prepared syllabi to enhance the education of the students  at Morthland College.

Thus, we grieved for Pam becoming such a young widow and the three young adult siblings losing their father and Chris losing his father-in-law. Then when Aimee, after only eight year of marriage, had to write, “I am a widow,” her mother’s widowhood did not seem so young.  Before all this, we had earlier watched with approval as their family demonstrated faith and creativity in coping with their grief over Sam, and they continued to serve others.  The day of the wreck was also Sam’s birthday, and the siblings spent the day at the Saint Louis zoo in memory of their father who loved the zoo. No one could imagine that day would end with yet another death. We can only be grateful that pregnant Aimee and baby Abbi were not in that wrecked vehicle. 

Although I had heard great things about Chris, and I’d enjoyed his beaming smile on every photograph posted on Facebook often with baby Abbi smiling too, a smile that  reminded me of Sam’s and made me happy just by seeing it, I had not realized until the tributes poured in just how many lives Chris and Aimee have impacted.  Chris was one of those amazing energetic people who loved to have fun and work hard and who also loved everyone to a degree that they felt his love.

 Our family was impacted not only by our grief for Aimee and her family, but also with our grief for Chris’s only sister—Katie Barger—who had married Jared Barger on May 17—and who was a loving care giver to our daughter Katherine. Katie was so close to her big brother that this loss is enormous for her.  I am grateful that she has such good memories of Chris and Aimee at her wedding.

Because I did not know Chris that well, I had never realized how broad and how full Chris’s life was for such a young man until peoples’ stories poured in for his loved ones telling them what Chris meant to them.  His last Facebook entry was prophetic when he quoted Job 42:17: And so he died, old and full of years.  Chris then commented, “Thus it must be possible to die old and not full of years. What things can we cut out of our lives to ensure our lives are full and not just long? What good is a long life if it not also full?”

Those who grieve Chris are immensely comforted that Chris’s years were very full and very worthwhile.

A Sad Night in America

The paragraph about the nation’s grief over the events at Aurora, Colorado, somehow just got erased and I can’t retrieve it. And I am too tired to try and write it over if I could. One thing I said was that right now while we wait for the investigators and reporters to dig up the information we so desperately want, it may be better not to say anything. So maybe it is best that my paragraph was lost. It is natural for us to seek answers for something so terrible and unusual. Despite the horrible evil that took place, there was even more bravery and goodness shown. We are grateful for all the heroes among us and for all the officials who have done their work so well. In many places on the globe, people have to live daily with carnage, and I hope this event in our homeland makes me more compassionate and prayerful for those who deal with tragedy every day.

Sad Farewell to Jerry Stapleton, Age 60

As we knew it would be, the parking lot of the funeral home was full last night when we pulled in. We were dreading the fresh grief inside although the accident that cost the life of Jerry Stapleton had happened over a week before. He had been taken to a Saint Louis hospital by helicopter and lain there for over a week on a breathing machine with broken neck and paralysis and then a massive stroke. Some thought that perhaps a light stroke or some such event had caused the accident with its catastrophic results in the first place. As far as anyone knew, he never had to suffer the anxiety of knowing about his injuries as he never became conscious.

From a large and highly regarded family, Jerry had been in the community’s prayers ever since an accident. His sister’s sister-in-law kept us all abreast with Jerry’s condition on Facebook, so we were prepared for the bad news.

During the thirty-six years we lived at Pondside Farm just a half mile from here, there was only one house between ours and the Stapleton house just down the road. Russ and Mildred Stapleton had three boys, all tall like their World War II veteran father, and one little girl named Debby, who was the right age to play with our youngest two—Jeannie and Mary Ellen. Steve, Jerry, and Mike were all several years older than our son Gerry, and they also had cousins Gordon and Paul on down the road apiece. Our brother-less son found the Stapleton homes a bonanza of boys with fishing, ball playing, horse, and hunting interests. As soon as he was allowed to ride his bycycle on our rural gravel road, he would head there with promises to me that he would be home before dark. Poor little guy got in trouble a lot when he would break those promises. Because of the age differences, I worried about his being a pest, but the boys made him welcome.

When I wrote our kids about Jerry’s accident, our son emailed back: “That is so sad! Paul, Steve, Jerry, Gordon and Mike were my closest neighbors. Good families. Never, ever did one thing mean to me! That is really a testament to how good of boys they all were!” Down in Georgia, he was torn that it was not possible for him to be in that huge crowd at the funeral home. But he was so accurate about “Good families.”

Russ farmed and worked in the mines. In addition to all her homemaking duties and cooking for her own family, Mildred worked in our village school lunch program for many years. When she retired, she used her expertise and for many more years volunteered to head up her church’s participation in Marion’s lunch program for anyone who shows up to eat five days a week. Participating churches take a week’s turn to prepare meals. Mildred would be there all five days. Only long after health problems plagued her did she finally retire from this unpaid job.

Russ and Mildred are perfect examples of bad things happening to good people. Their son Steve served in the Marines in Viet Nam and was exposed to Agent Orange. He came home and worked in the mines, but he had to fight cancer for many years. Like so many of our veterans, he died early at age 61 in 2008. Parents never get over losing children. As one of my high school classmates said to me about his son’s death: they are supposed to live longer than their parents.

Mildred and Russ celebrated their 70th wedding anniversary at the party their kids threw for them July 4th weekend at their church fellowship hall. We had a family reunion and could not attend, but I thoroughly enjoyed the invitation with an adorable poem telling the story of their romance and marriage. I found out from Mike last night that Debby had written it. Somehow I take comfort from knowing that they had that special time together with all their children, grandchildren, and friends before they had to go through this second sorrow of losing another son.

Jerry’s wife Pam and his two sons and daughter are all living productive lives that speak well of Jerry’s heritage from his time on earth. The community will continue to share their grief and pray for comfort for all of them as they face life without him.

The death toll is rising from the terrible destruction of Hurricane Irene, so many Americans families are facing great grief right now. We know that grief is to be expected in this life, but somehow it often surprises us when it happens.

Tammy Morris, a writer in our community, gave us this scripture paraphrase on Facebook a couple of days ago: ""weeping endures for the night but joy comes in the morning...' -- life brings hills and valleys and each has something that add character, so if you are in a valley and weeping during the night, just remember that there is a hill and a morning full of joy up ahead." Thank you, Tammy.

Sadness

I really did come downstairs to my computer to blog Wednesday night. But first I checked the emails, and there was a paragraph I wrote to a speakers’ newsletter that had been picked up by another writer. (The speakers’ newsletter is free, but we are supposed to “pay” for it with a tip occasionally, and I had sent my first tip to the newsletter.) Excited that someone had liked it, I forwarded it to our kids.


We have a family yahoo group, where all of us get our emails. A couple of our children were online and started emailing in response. This is one of my favorite things because usually it is late at night and everyone is a little slap happy. Naturally I think my children are very witty, so I love it when they start emails flying back and forth amongst us that crack me up.


After a couple funny responses, suddenly our son came online and asked if we knew that Mark Mocaby had had a massive stroke and died in Tupelo, Mississippi. The flurry of emails increased but went from being silly to being very sad. Mark, 47, was in Jeannie’s class, and she had thought so much of Mark. Evidently everyone did—the kids in the classes above him and below him in age. Mary Ellen remembered that all through high school, Mark had been in love with Mary Ann from Mississippi—much to the dismay of the local girls.

Once again I was tired and now sad and I forgot all about blogging. Our email grief expression was still continuing today. Mary Ellen, who had wanted to come to his funeral, had found out it was in Mississippi tomorrow, but Mark would be buried here at Mt. Pleasant up in the Poor-Do neighborhood, but we don’t know when.

Then as Gerald and I were finishing lunch, our next-door neighbor Scott phoned. A terrible accident had happened in our neighborhood. Scott and Sonja saw the fire truck, ambulance, and Air Evac helicopter go by, but Gerald and I had not. They had followed and like several other neighbors had been led to our dear friend Chester Turner’s farm. Chester, a widower who lost who only son shortly after the Viet Nam War, is a community favorite.


At 90 plus years, he still rides his horse to the Sikeston Rodeo over in Missouri each year. (Of course, he has some assistance and watch care from his very special horse-riding buddy Robin Roberts, who despite having her hands full with her in-laws’ illnesses and her photography studio, cannot stand the thought that anyone can not still ride if they love to do so as much as she does.)


Estes Hosman, a friend of Chester’s son and now like a son to Chester, had come over to help Chester cut down a bad limb from a tree in the back field. Chester was urging Estes to stop and let the wind complete the job when Estes said he would make one final attempt to cut through. He succeeded, and the limb somehow someway bounced up and hit him and killed him.

Neighbors and friends were pouring in throughout the afternoon knowing they could do nothing to ease Chester’s grief but at least he was not alone with it. Some, of course, were going to be with Estes’ wife Cheryl. Our neighbor across the road, who had gone through school with Estes and Cheryl, phoned sobbing to make sure we had heard the sad news.

In a small rural community like ours, one of the things I have observed is that everyone has so many connections to everyone else. Thus, when a tragedy like this happens, a multitude of people are deeply affected. Not just Estes and Cheryl’s classmates, but all of the classmates of Estes and Cheryl's two daughters, Jamie and Lori, will be grief-stricken for their friends.


Just as the entire community was devastated a few decades ago when Estes’ father was a victim of a coal mine disaster. Other miners in our community risked their lives trying to get his body out until they were forbidden to continue. He remains entombed there. And then we were grief stricken when Chester and Maribel’s only child was killed in a car accident after safely surviving Viet Nam. Later the community was saddened when Estes’ mother died of cancer. The ties and relationships between people in a rural community are varied and deep.


Our Mary Ellen had to call her friend Stacia in Oklahoma because Stacia used to baby sit Estes and Cheryl’s daughters. Of course, she was saddened for her classmate Bruce, Estes' nephew. Our son Gerry, who was friends with both Chester and Estes, immediately said he must arrange to come home even though he was at the airport getting ready to depart for California and fly back tomorrow. Oddly, before he got on the plane, he had a text message that the tournament was called off, and suddenly he was free to drive back home and absorb this loss and see if he can work it out to come up.


Crab Orchard community is a sad place tonight, and I am only too aware that life is often short and very precious to those who love those lives.