A few years ago, tragedy struck repeatedly, as John’s brother died from a fentanyl overdose, Snoden, our Malawian HUGS for Tomorrow co-founder, lost his brother in a violent flood, and a university student where John worked lost her brother in a car accident. Each event was shocking, and, together, they all felt eerily spaced, as if echoing the saying that tragedies come in threes. I always thought it seemed like a pretty callous device to relegate other people’s loss into a neat little package, but then I realized I was doing that to myself. I’ve lost three brothers of my own, and that “rule of threes” has often fooled me into believing that my life’s grief package—if there were such a thing—was complete. Of course, that’s already proven to not be true, and thankfully Jesus is teaching me that true healing comes not from the world, but from Him, so I don’t have to hope nothing bad happens but can instead trust Him to get me through when it does.
My first intimate experience with death was when I was eleven. I went to spend the day at a friend’s house, and her mother abruptly interrupted our play time, telling us to get into the car. She said my mom had called and wanted me home right away, and then she didn’t say another word but kept looking at me with pity in the rearview mirror on the way to my house. It was the longest car ride I’ve ever taken. When I got home, my entire family was waiting for me in the living room, crying. Andy, my four-year-old brother, had drowned in the lake behind our house. Steve, the oldest of the five of us, found him floating at the base of the steps to the dock. It’s an understatement to say that the loss of my baby brother completely changed my life and the lives of everyone else in my family.
Steve, already struggling with mental health issues, couldn’t handle the emotional weight of that day and ended up in a mental institution. Because Mom couldn’t afford his care, she made the heart-wrenching decision to turn him over as a ward of the state. The system shuffled him between facilities, making it hard to track his whereabouts. When my mother developed Alzheimer’s, I realized how much I’d relied on her to keep up with his transfers. As his sister, I have no legal claim to locate him, and I don’t even know if he’s alive. So I lost a second brother.
Losing a sibling to death or mental illness is, in some ways, easier than losing one to the world, which is how I lost my third brother. We drifted apart after our mother’s death in 2013. I assumed he, being younger, didn’t carry our family’s grief as heavily. I was wrong. Pain has a way of seeping through, unpredictable and unseen. He chose a path shaped by the world’s ways, and I understand the temptation, because I’ve spent a lifetime resisting the urge to lash out at the universe for the woundings. Sometimes I trust God with it all and sometimes I still give in to grief. But, I have come to accept that God allowed these trials—or perhaps even orchestrated them—and that ultimately it’s His will.
If you’re feeling sorry for me, there’s no need. This story has a happy ending. I don’t know if there’s always a specific purpose to each act of suffering, but I am convinced that God’s ready to redeem our circumstances if we let Him. My losses have shaped me, making me comfortable supporting others who’ve loved and lost. Perhaps that’s part of the reason I’ve lost so much—to make me useful to others. In Malawi, I see children in our HUGS program face death and loss daily—a much harder life than I ever had—and I want to give them the support I lacked in my grief. I’m grateful for a husband who shares in this mission and for children who also champion the cause.
I’m sure you have a story to tell, and maybe it’s part of the reason you support HUGS for Tomorrow. Thank you for allowing God to use your life to improve the lives of others. I want to leave you with a scripture that has taken me years to understand, but one that has changed my life and my entire perspective on family. Matthew 12 says, “Whoever does the will of my Father in heaven is my brother and sister and mother.” Sometimes I think we have to lose earthly family before we believe this is true. I have, and I do.
Through Jesus, I’ve gained not only Him as a brother but also the family He promises to those who follow Him. Almost thirty years ago, an elderly couple told John and me about Jesus, and we were married and baptized on the same day, gaining that couple as parents in the faith—a relationship that has trickled down into bonds with their children and their children’s children. Also, John’s family has treated me as one of their own ever since. So, I have stronger, deeper relationships with men and women who don’t share my family name, my DNA, or even my skin color than I do with the family I was born into. And, most recently we gained a daughter-in-law in the faith, as she accepted Jesus and was married to our son. They say blood is thicker than water, but I would only agree if we’re talking about the blood of Jesus. I have found my true family in the body of Christ.
