In God I Trust
Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding…
-Proverbs 3:5
I stood outside the intensive care unit
of Hillcrest Hospital, numb with grief. My mind retraced the events
of the past few hours: A seemingly simple infection, a necessary I.V.,
an exam by some experts in white coats with stethoscopes adorning
their necks like jewelry. Then came a sudden rush to the intensive
care unit. We waited without word. There was unexpected surgery. Her
blood pressure dropped. Code Blue.
NO! my mind screamed. Not Code Blue, not her room number, not her!
Doctors and nurses flooded her room from every direction. So much
movement, so much yelling, confusion, turmoil. Then slowly, everyone
backed away from the bed where she lay.
My sister had just been pronounced dead.
Not possible, I frantically thought. She was the one I shared a bedroom
with for 17 years. Together we had gone to Girl Scout camp, sung for
charities, auditioned for the school play, and pulled together lots
of last-minute pizza parties in our remodeled basement.
Sometimes we'd get the crazies and pretend to go snipe hunting ( something
we randomly made up ) or round up a bunch of girls with rolls of toilet
paper and go mummy up a few houses. One year, we even had a crush
on the same guy at the same time. Not cool.
She was the one who was always encouraging me. When I wanted to run
for junior class treasurer, she was the first one to start making
campaign posters and passing out flyers. When I decided to try out
for the Junior Miss scholarship pageant, she listened to me play my
guitar, hour after hour, and coached me on my singing. When I went
away to New York City to try my luck at modeling, she was forever
sending me "follow your dream" letters and little surprises
in the mail. Yes, she was my sister, but more importantly, she was
my friend.
Now she was gone.
Back at our house, I watched as family and friends started to gather.
Some stood crying silently, some were doubled over in agony. Some
offered hugs of comfort, some brought food, and others were not sure
what to do. Slowly, my numbness turned to simmering disbelief.
God, how could you let this happen? What were you thinking? She was
so young. She had so much to live for, I reminded God. Some things
I can let go, I snapped, but this one, Lord, you have to explain to
me!
Yet heaven was silent.
Days later, I heard someone say that God does not owe us an explanation
for the things that happen in our lives.
That ticked me off. It sounded totally unfair. Of course God owed
me an explanation! The rug had been pulled out from underneath my
whole life. In fact, I thought that if he were any kind of God at
all, he would want to explain the reasons to me-just so that I wouldn't
stay angry with him!
But as time wore on, the truth and reality of those words sunk in.
Somewhere deep down, I knew they were right. The God of the universe,
the same God who created the heavens and the earth, the stars and
the sky, the majestic mountains and the miniscule amoebae, didn't
have to give me an explanation or run things by me for my permission.
After all, he is God: his ways are higher than mine. I could see that
I had a choice to make. I could keep giving God the cold shoulder
for not playing by my rules, or I could trust him.
I just wasn't ready.
A few weeks after my sister's funeral, I was up in my room reading
through some old letters she had sent to me. On the bottom of one
of the letters was a P.S. There was a Bible verse written out-a verse
from Proverbs. I carefully read the words, "Trust in the Lord
with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding."
It was one of her favorites.
I sat there cross-legged on the bedroom floor with a choice to make.
Follow my sister's wishes, or remain bitter and angry at God.
I chose to trust God.
I didn't understand, I didn't have all the answers, but I no longer
felt like I needed an explanation. I finally let God be God.
With my decision made, my icy attitude toward him began to melt. Then
my grief began to ease, just a little. With my thoughts no longer
tangled up in the demand for answers, I was free to actually think
happy thoughts of my sister and to remember the good times we had.
Good memories of her get me through each day now: memories that I
will forever keep tucked inside my trusting heart.
Andrea Stephens
