“I’m going to the hospital to reclaim what is rightfully ours. Please pray.” It was 6:54 on a Friday morning and this is what I texted to our leadership team. I remember thinking that morning that whenever I feel compelled to do something I don’t really want to do, it’s usually the Lord leading me.
We had heard the devastating news the night before that Tara, one of our Blue Monarch graduates, had been found unresponsive in her bedroom at her parent’s house and had not been conscious since then. There was concern that she had gone way too long without oxygen, and she was in the intensive care unit at a hospital two and a half hours away. I wasn’t anxious to see Tara in this condition, but I felt God was telling me to get dressed and head that way.
It was just the week before that we saw horrific photographs of Tara's car completely destroyed from a drug related accident. It was a miracle that she and her son were not killed or at least severely injured. Would this be the wakeup call Tara needed?
The whole drive to the hospital, I listened to praise and worship music in my car and prayed out loud that God would give us a beautiful miracle that day. He could – and he would.
Tara’s parents were gracious to immediately invite me into Tara’s area in the ICU and it was a shock to see her lying in the bed hooked to what seemed like a hundred wires and tubes. She still had a black eye from the car accident, which made that event much more real. With tears uncontrollably streaming from my eyes, I put one hand on Tara’s forehead, the other on her shoulder, and prayed my heart out for supernatural healing for her body. I fully expected to see her eyes open any moment. He could – and he would.
As the day wore on, we all experienced waves of fond memories between tsunamis of grief as we took turns holding Tara’s hands. Her sweet mother uncovered Tara’s foot to show me her middle toe that was shorter than the others, something they teased her about through the years. Tara had just gotten a pedicure a couple of days before, which seemed like a good sign that she did not have plans to harm herself – a fleeting thought we often have in situations like this when there is still so much that we don’t know or understand.
I watched Tara’s mother gently stroke her foot, which I imagined she also did when her daughter was a newborn, as so many mothers do. While I looked at Tara’s foot, my mind went back to some of the last conversations we had. “Tara, you cannot have one foot in your old life and the other in your new life. It will never work! It never does!” I gave her examples of others who had tried to do the same and none of those stories turned out well. In fact, one of my examples died shortly after Tara left Blue Monarch.
Truth is, it isn’t exactly an equal tug of war. The Old Life won’t settle for just a foot. It will pull and pull until it gobbles up the entire body. On the other side is Jesus, gently holding out his hand. Because he graciously gives us free will, he doesn’t force us to take his hand. He holds it out until we grab ahold of it and then he will help pull the rest of us out of the darkness. At that point, the Old Life doesn’t stand a chance.
Hours went by and during moments of silence, we probably all had conversation balloons over our heads that were full of “what if’s.” It’s hard to resist the thoughts of what we should have done that might have made a difference.
Tara began to take on some of the characteristics I remembered from the day my father died and it didn’t look hopeful, but we continued to pray. He could – but it didn’t look like he was going to. As this reality began to settle in, I gradually developed anger on top of my grief.
Through the curtain I could see the doctor making his way down the hallway to report the results from the final test and the expression on his face made words unnecessary. Knowing what was coming felt like that brief second before the roller coaster drops a hundred feet headfirst.
The raw grief of a mother and the tears of a stepfather who loved Tara more than many of the biological fathers I have seen, cut like a knife. I wanted to take their pain and run out the door with it so they couldn’t feel it any longer. My own tears were a mixture of overwhelming grief and profound anger. Why did God let this happen?! I was so mad.
I drove the whole way home in a silent car. Even music was unbearable. That night when I went to bed, I surprised myself by saying out loud, “Blah, blah, blah, whatever. Amen.” There. Take that. Goodnight.
The next day, as I tried to process this waste of a beautiful life, the loss of a mother who learned to love her brilliant child, Jakobe, while at Blue Monarch, who got tears in her eyes when he ran in from daycare calling her “Mommy” for the first time, the one who was so amazing and smart that we even hired her for a position at Blue Monarch, the bright young woman so full of hope and promise – remarkably, I began to hear Jesus speak to me through all the noise.
He reminded me of how the police had searched Tara’s room and found no drugs and how the test results at the hospital remarkably showed no drugs in her system. I recalled her mother proudly describing how Tara took a friend with her to church the Sunday after her accident and how excited she was to share her faith with someone else. Apparently, that accident really was a wakeup call after all.
Then I realized, I was on the wrong mission all along. I thought I was going to the hospital to reclaim what was rightfully ours. But the truth is, she did not belong to us. She never did. She didn’t even belong to her sweet mother and father. She belonged to Jesus – and after her “Old Life” came close to taking her completely, Jesus reclaimed what was rightfully his and now she is safely with him, full of joy and totally healed.
So, how can we best honor Tara now? I think we share with everyone we can, what she would probably say today if she could. With those beautiful dark eyes, and those perfectly shaped brows, in that soft voice of hers, I believe she would say, “Take Jesus’ hand and grab on with all you’ve got. Keep BOTH feet firmly planted in his direction –because ALL of you belongs to him. And don’t ever forget that.”
Thankfully, Tara had time to teach this to her son, Jakobe, which will impact him the rest of his life – so in many ways, I guess you could say, “God could – and he did.”
The whole drive to the hospital, I listened to praise and worship music in my car and prayed out loud that God would give us a beautiful miracle that day. He could – and he would.
Tara’s parents were gracious to immediately invite me into Tara’s area in the ICU and it was a shock to see her lying in the bed hooked to what seemed like a hundred wires and tubes. She still had a black eye from the car accident, which made that event much more real. With tears uncontrollably streaming from my eyes, I put one hand on Tara’s forehead, the other on her shoulder, and prayed my heart out for supernatural healing for her body. I fully expected to see her eyes open any moment. He could – and he would.
As the day wore on, we all experienced waves of fond memories between tsunamis of grief as we took turns holding Tara’s hands. Her sweet mother uncovered Tara’s foot to show me her middle toe that was shorter than the others, something they teased her about through the years. Tara had just gotten a pedicure a couple of days before, which seemed like a good sign that she did not have plans to harm herself – a fleeting thought we often have in situations like this when there is still so much that we don’t know or understand.
I watched Tara’s mother gently stroke her foot, which I imagined she also did when her daughter was a newborn, as so many mothers do. While I looked at Tara’s foot, my mind went back to some of the last conversations we had. “Tara, you cannot have one foot in your old life and the other in your new life. It will never work! It never does!” I gave her examples of others who had tried to do the same and none of those stories turned out well. In fact, one of my examples died shortly after Tara left Blue Monarch.
Truth is, it isn’t exactly an equal tug of war. The Old Life won’t settle for just a foot. It will pull and pull until it gobbles up the entire body. On the other side is Jesus, gently holding out his hand. Because he graciously gives us free will, he doesn’t force us to take his hand. He holds it out until we grab ahold of it and then he will help pull the rest of us out of the darkness. At that point, the Old Life doesn’t stand a chance.
Hours went by and during moments of silence, we probably all had conversation balloons over our heads that were full of “what if’s.” It’s hard to resist the thoughts of what we should have done that might have made a difference.
Tara began to take on some of the characteristics I remembered from the day my father died and it didn’t look hopeful, but we continued to pray. He could – but it didn’t look like he was going to. As this reality began to settle in, I gradually developed anger on top of my grief.
Through the curtain I could see the doctor making his way down the hallway to report the results from the final test and the expression on his face made words unnecessary. Knowing what was coming felt like that brief second before the roller coaster drops a hundred feet headfirst.
The raw grief of a mother and the tears of a stepfather who loved Tara more than many of the biological fathers I have seen, cut like a knife. I wanted to take their pain and run out the door with it so they couldn’t feel it any longer. My own tears were a mixture of overwhelming grief and profound anger. Why did God let this happen?! I was so mad.
I drove the whole way home in a silent car. Even music was unbearable. That night when I went to bed, I surprised myself by saying out loud, “Blah, blah, blah, whatever. Amen.” There. Take that. Goodnight.
The next day, as I tried to process this waste of a beautiful life, the loss of a mother who learned to love her brilliant child, Jakobe, while at Blue Monarch, who got tears in her eyes when he ran in from daycare calling her “Mommy” for the first time, the one who was so amazing and smart that we even hired her for a position at Blue Monarch, the bright young woman so full of hope and promise – remarkably, I began to hear Jesus speak to me through all the noise.
He reminded me of how the police had searched Tara’s room and found no drugs and how the test results at the hospital remarkably showed no drugs in her system. I recalled her mother proudly describing how Tara took a friend with her to church the Sunday after her accident and how excited she was to share her faith with someone else. Apparently, that accident really was a wakeup call after all.
Then I realized, I was on the wrong mission all along. I thought I was going to the hospital to reclaim what was rightfully ours. But the truth is, she did not belong to us. She never did. She didn’t even belong to her sweet mother and father. She belonged to Jesus – and after her “Old Life” came close to taking her completely, Jesus reclaimed what was rightfully his and now she is safely with him, full of joy and totally healed.
So, how can we best honor Tara now? I think we share with everyone we can, what she would probably say today if she could. With those beautiful dark eyes, and those perfectly shaped brows, in that soft voice of hers, I believe she would say, “Take Jesus’ hand and grab on with all you’ve got. Keep BOTH feet firmly planted in his direction –because ALL of you belongs to him. And don’t ever forget that.”
Thankfully, Tara had time to teach this to her son, Jakobe, which will impact him the rest of his life – so in many ways, I guess you could say, “God could – and he did.”
