Indelibly Marked
It was a warm, sunny Saturday in May, the sixteenth to be exact. I was just a few weeks away from finishing my seventh grade year. That morning I was wearing a pair of shorts and a Mickey Mouse t-shirt. While white Keds with no laces was a fashion trend at the time, I believe I wore my lace up tennis shoes that day. I was among a group of junior high students and teachers eagerly anticipating the annual school bike hike. I was ready to ride my red Schwinn ten-speed some 15 miles from school to Lemon Lake County Park. We would enjoy a picnic lunch and a fun afternoon at the park before making the trek back to school.
Lined up single file with my best friend right behind me, we rode some sidewalks, but mostly streets. More students joined us at various points along the way. Having just passed a Zip Foods convenient store and adding a few more kids to our group, we were almost half-way to our destination when we came to a stop. Curious to know what was causing the delay, I got off my bike and looked up ahead. I was about a dozen bikes back from an incline in the road before us. At the top of the incline was a dump truck, and something was moving underneath it. While my mind was trying to grasp what my eyes were seeing, a classmate came running toward me with panicked, agonizing screams. The bike of one of the eighth graders had tangled up with the truck and it had pulled her under. When I looked ahead again, I saw her rolling over and over under that truck until she came to a stop. One arm was outstretched over her head, and one white Keds shoe was lying loose next to her. As I stared in disbelief, the driver climbed out of the truck, saw her and cried out, “Oh my God!” He grabbed his jacket from the cab and threw it over her. She was dead.
Thirty-one years later, the vivid details of that morning are seared in my memory. But the rest of that day was much of a blur. Shock quickly settled in. Parents were somehow notified, and some came with pick-up trucks to haul us and all our bikes back home. I remember sitting in the back of someone’s truck waiting in dreaded silence until we were able to leave. At some point I ended up in another car with my best friend, who was the principal’s daughter. I remember stopping at the funeral home on our way back to school. But it would take days before the reality of that tragedy would take full effect.
At 13 years old, that was my first personal encounter with grief. And I will never forget it. Every year on this day, I remember that day. That horrific, devastating, life-altering day. Days like that leave an indelible mark. It’s those kinds of experiences that, at any age, either push us toward Christ or drive us away from Him. I still remember, and I don’t even know why I know this, but Christi’s favorite verse was Isaiah 40:11, which says, “He (the Sovereign Lord) feeds His flock like a shepherd. He will carry the lambs in His arms, holding them close to His heart.” I experienced this truth in the days and weeks and months that followed her death. Unexplainable grief pushed me into the strength of Jesus, who held me close and carried me through. I needed something bigger than myself to find comfort in. I needed hope and peace that couldn’t be found anywhere else. I needed Jesus. I don’t claim to understand the ways of God, but I do know that He is sovereign. And He uses even the hardest days to draw us close to Himself. The events and emotions of May 16, 1987, grew me and my faith and better prepared me to handle the events and emotions that would come exactly eight years later, when my grandma passed away unexpectedly, just four days before my wedding. Another time I remember with detailed clarity.
Over three decades later, I still hate to ride my bike on the road. I’ve still never been to Lemon Lake. And although it’s only been a handful of times over the years, my heart still drops whenever I have to drive over that spot. But I’ve learned time and again that even in the midst of tragedy, God is still good. Even when life is more painful that I could have ever imagined, God is still faithful. Even when circumstances seem completely out of control, God is still sovereign. And He carries me in His arms and holds me close to His heart. While May 16 is a day that will forever be etched in my brain, I know that my name is etched in the palms of my Sovereign Lord, who is the God of all comfort- today and every day, forever and ever.
