When Tragedy Strikes
It’s been a tough week around here.
My grandma passed away on Thursday.
I typically have blogs written and social media posts planned a month in advance, but we were traveling, and I had everything written and scheduled through the end of our trip.
Of course.
I reasoned that I would have all the time in the world to get ahead when we got home.
That didn’t work out so well.
My parents split their time between Ohio and Florida, and they happened to be in Florida as my grandma began her decline.
That meant they needed to fly home immediately.
Which meant that their vehicle needed driven home.
As I was driving their truck home, my grandma continued to decline.
We were an hour away from home when she passed away.
For the last three years, I’ve been my grandma’s chauffeur. We’ve spent countless hours together going to appointments, running errands, picking up her favorite foods, and talking about books.
While I didn’t make it back before she passed away, I can say, without a shadow of a doubt, I have no regrets and am so thankful for the time we had together–even though she did drive me crazy every once in a while!
As soon as my dad gave me the news that they had moved her into hospice, my brain switched into overdrive.
Tragedies
I haven’t talked about this much, but my parents were in a horrendous motorcycle accident in 2009.
They were only 56 and 57.
Because they were both level 1 traumas, they were transported to different hospitals, and because they were out for a ride, they were a couple of hours away from home.
I was 30 at the time.
My parents were, by far, the matriarch and patriarch of our family.
I was at work when it happened, and I didn’t have time to even go home.
I took off toward the hospitals with the clothes on my back, my phone, printed-out Mapquest directions (Ha), and a borrowed phone charger.
While I was driving, my family was desperately attempting to get more information.
En route, I had to change my course.
My dad was life-flighted from the scene, so that was where I was initially heading.
As the reality of their injuries was discovered, though, it became clear my mom was in much worse shape.
While she had initially been up and walking around at the scene of the accident, the reality was that she had a severe brain bleed.
She was transported by ambulance to a little podunk hospital, but within an hour, they discovered the severity of her injuries and life-flighted her to a level 1 trauma center.
I headed there instead.
I arrived just in time to talk to her before they wheeled her off for her first brain surgery.
It’s a scene I’ll never forget–even though I wish I could.
Over the next 12 hours, she would have another brain surgery, a surgery the surgeon later told me he would have never performed had he known her age.
For the first time in my life, I found myself face-to-face with life-shattering trauma, and I was expected to be the responsible adult making all the decisions.
For the next several months, that role only intensified.
It was a role I never asked for and definitely a role I never wanted.
Have you been there?
Has life happened in a way that forced you into a role you never asked for, never wanted, and never dreamed you would have to fill?
And More Tragedies
For the next several months, I found myself having to put my logistical hat on and make all sorts of rational decisions.
I had no previous experience with the healthcare system, and that meant I had no idea what I was doing.
It was disastrous at times.
I didn’t realize the importance of advocating for yourself in the healthcare world. I definitely didn’t understand how insurance companies work, and I was in that idealistic mindset that led me to believe the healthcare system had all of our best interests at heart.
I was wrong.
I learned it the hard way.
My mom would ultimately have a Traumatic Brain Injury that affected her cognition and language areas of her brain. Basically, what that means is that she has thoughts in her head, but she struggles to find the words to express them. It also means that she struggles with processing language when she hears it.
She spent a total of nine months in six different healthcare facilities before she finally came home.
Less than a month after she came home, my dad ended up back in the hospital with a pulmonary embolism (a blood clot in his lungs).
Once again, I found myself in a trauma where I had to keep a level head and work out the logistics.
Again, I was sitting in a hospital room with a doctor as he looked at my dad and me and told us that he had a 50% chance of making it through the night, and that was only if he took this one specific medication. If not, he would surely die.
I’ll never forget that conversation, the fear on my dad’s face, and my desperation during that time either.
I remember sitting in the little chapel room of the hospital with two of the pastors from my church–none of us even able to formulate a coherent thought or sentence as we waited.
He made it.
Thankfully.
Tragedy and Trauma Responses
We all process and deal with trauma differently.
I’m sure most of us have heard of the flight, fight, or freeze response.
I seem to have the “micro-manage every detail of the trauma” response.
So far, I haven’t been able to find that in a textbook anywhere.
It only makes sense, then, that when I knew trauma and tragedy were striking our family again that I automatically shifted into that response.
I’ve spent the last several days pulling out decor, tablescapes, and candles–because I can’t have my grandma’s wake look shabby!
I spent last night arranging 24 vases of flowers in Grandma’s favorite colors.
I’ve ordered all the food, organized the three different playlists, staffed the wake, and written the eulogy.
Because that’s how my brain works, and it’s how I respond to trauma.
N0t everyone responds this way, though.
We’re all different, and that doesn’t make one of us right or anyone else wrong.
My dad, for example, does not respond this way. What I appreciate so much about him, though, is that he acknowledges it, and asks me for help.
That’s what’s important here–understanding our strengths, weaknesses, responses, etc.
I appreciate this so much about him.
The Nudge
I was about 90 minutes from home when I started to feel God nudging me.
I knew I was supposed to write my Grandma’s eulogy.
I tried to argue with God for a few minutes.
It was a pointless battle.
As I was driving, I started to think back over all the memories I had of spending time with my grandparents–I had so many, and they were all so good.
Then, I began to think of all the conversations we had throughout the last several years. While I had spent a good deal of time with my grandparents when I was a kid, it was these conversations I was so grateful for. I realized how much I really got to know my grandma and who she was as a human being in these last few years.
I felt God nudging me to preserve those memories and her legacy through this message at her funeral.
I sat down the next day, and within just a couple hours, I had her 2,000-word eulogy written.
I knew it honored her, and I was honoring God’s nudge.
When the Unexpected Tragedy Happens
I know this isn’t my typical scripture-filled post.
I keep scrolling back up and thinking I should add some scripture and application, but then I just scroll right back to the end.
Instead, I just want to end with these God thoughts.
Trauma and tragedy are inevitable in this world.
Our responses to trauma and tragedy are the only things we can actually control.
What I’ve learned through the years is that grief looks different for everyone, emotions look different on everyone, and trauma response looks different on everyone.
I’ve also learned that God is present, that He wants us to cast our cares on Him, that He desires to comfort us.
David tells us this so many times.
Psalm 46:1 (TPT)
God, you’re such a safe and powerful place to find refuge! You’re a proven help in time of trouble— more than enough and always available whenever I need you.
Psalm 9:9-10 (TPT)
All who are oppressed may come to Yahweh as a high shelter in the time of trouble, a perfect hiding place. For everyone who knows your wonderful name keeps putting their trust in you. They can count on you for help no matter what. O Lord, you will never, no never, neglect those who come to you.
Psam 32:7-8 (TPT)
Lord, you are my secret hiding place, protecting me from these troubles, surrounding me with songs of gladness! Your joyous shouts of rescue release my breakthrough. Pause in his presence I hear the Lord saying, “I will stay close to you, instructing and guiding you along the pathway for your life. I will advise you along the way and lead you forth with my eyes as your guide. So don’t make it difficult; don’t be stubborn when I take you where you’ve not been before. Don’t make me tug you and pull you along. Just come with me!”
While I wish that you would never have to face tragedy or trauma, friend, I know that one day you will. My prayer for you as you face the grief, the emotions, and the logistical crap that comes with it is that you will have a heart like David’s, that you will trust God to comfort you and guide you, and that you will listen to His nudging to get you through those tough times.
If you would like to read my Grandma’s eulogy, you can find it after the Reflection Questions (I wrote it, but I didn’t give it–hence the third person).
Reflection Questions:
What is your typical trauma response?
When you need help, how do you respond?
As you look back at the traumas in your life, how do you see God’s nudge throughout them?
Grandma's Eulogy
Funerals are never easy–not even funerals where we are celebrating the full life and amazing legacy of a godly 92-year-old spunky, independent, loyal, and loving woman like Mary Lou Osborn.
Mary Lou was born on March 6th 1931 to John and Ollie Crawmer.
She married Donnie Osborn at the age of 20. When she talked about how Donnie courted her, she told of the days he would spend outside her house trying to get her attention and impress her, how he was “trying a little too hard.” But, then her feistiness and spunk would come out, and she’d follow that up with, “I’m not sure what happened to that after we got married,” with that little smirk on her face and a chuckle.
They went on to have two boys whom she affectionately referred to as Charles Lee and Johnny for the rest of her life–both of whom would claim the other was her favorite, but I’ll leave that up to you to decide.
I’ve had the fortune to know the Osborn family for many years and sit in Mary Lou’s hospital room at Licking Memorial to chat with her and her extended family on several hospital visits, so when the family asked me to speak today, I was honored.
I’m sure you all have many memories of Mary Lou, and they probably include things like:
Learning to milk a cow
Eating sugar out of the sugar bowl
Trying not to get caught in the chicken coop during a thunderstorm
Getting up at the crack of dawn to feed the animals
Learning how to shell beans on the front porch
Week long trips to the Hartford Fair
Watching her put her hair up in rollers every night before she went to bed
Cultivating a love for coffee–even when you were way too young to drink it
Sledding in the dead of winter–even in her skirts!
Skimming the cream off a bowl of fresh milk
Butchering cows and chickens
Yearly trips to the Wilds
The acres of garden she planted every year
Her knowledge of all flowers and plants
Learning how to can–just not green beans!
Assigned seats at the dinner table
White cake with brown sugar icing
Fried chicken
Black raspberry pie
And homemade ice cream
And, if you’ve known her for many years, you’ve probably heard the stories of:
Johnny throwing steak knives at Charles Lee…allegedly…
Charles Lee rolling a jeep on the way to football practice when he was 15 and Mary Lou taking him to the hospital and swearing he wrecked a dirt bike in the field.
The daily trips Donnie made her take with him to taco bell to get chalupas and then to the grocery store to get food for his cats
The fact that she swore she didn’t like sweets, but she never turned down a turtle sundae, pecan roll, or chocolate cupcake.
How it took her 6 months to work up the nerve to bake an apple pie for her new neighbor!
Her commitment to her church and to God.
When you think back on holidays and birthdays, I’m sure it’s not the material gifts you remember, but it’s the feasts she would spend endless hours cooking and the fact that everyone always had a seat at her table.
As I’ve listened to the stories and memories surrounding Mary Lou’s life, I’m struck by the depth of her character, the impact she has made, and the legacy she will leave behind.
In fact, if I’m being honest, her life rivals some of the most respected heroines from the bible.
There wasn’t much of Mary Lou’s young life where she wasn’t living with and then caring for her parents. Much like Ruth stood at a crossroads and had the choice to support and provide for Naomi, Mary Lou faced that decision with her own mother. While the easier and more convenient choice would certainly have been to shirk the responsibility, find a good nursing home, or pass the buck to someone else, she chose family first.
She made family a priority when she committed to caring for her mother, and she would continue to make family a priority for the rest of her life.
And that is an admirable character trait I see she passed on to so many of you sitting in this room today.
It wasn’t just Ruth’s commitment to family that Mary Lou mirrored, though; it was her fierce independence and commitment to hard work. Just like Ruth didn’t hesitate to gather the wheat in the fields to provide for her and Naomi, Mary Lou never hesitated at the thought of hard work, and oftentimes, she would insist on doing it herself.
If you remember, Mary Lou fell and broke her hip on December 31, 2021.
The reason she fell was because she insisted on walking her mail up the hill to her mailbox.
In the dead of winter.
With 2 canes.
Because she could.
And because she was so independent she didn’t want to ask anyone else to do it.
I’m sure most of you sitting here today can think of multiple times Mary Lou told you about something she did on her own, and you asked her why she didn’t call you! Her response was the same every single time–
I could do it myself, and I didn’t want to bother anyone.
As Mary Lou battled cancer throughout the last year, one of her biggest complaints was the fact that she felt lazy because she was tired and felt like she was sleeping way too much. No matter how many times, you all reminded her that her body had been through a war, that she was 92 and could sleep if she wanted to, and that she needed to give her body time to heal, she would still get frustrated and feel like she wasn’t doing enough.
That makes sense though.
Because that’s who she was as a person her entire life.
She didn’t balk at the hard work that came along with the life of a farmer.
She never complained about the hours she spent in the garden weeding and tending to her plants.
She spent the majority of her life getting up before dawn to tend to both the farm and family.
When it was time to butcher, she was right there in the thick of it, keeping stride with, or maybe even outworking, the men.
She was a woman who understood the importance of hard work, resilience, and self-reliance.
Ruth isn’t the only heroine I think of when I think of Mary Lou’s life, though. Hearing all these stories of the meals Mary Lou used to cook makes me think of the story of Mary and Martha from the gospels. When Jesus came to their house, Mary was happy and content to sit at the feet of Jesus while Martha prepared the house and meal for Jesus and their guests.
Mary Lou was not a woman who would sit quietly and let someone else do the cooking and cleaning. I’ve heard the stories of the meals she would make for holidays and birthdays:
Fried Chicken
Ribs
Mashed Potatoes
Scratch gravy
Noodles–even though she didn’t even like noodles
Corn
Green Beans with Bacon
Creamed Peas
Cole Slaw
Homemade jelly
At least two types of pies
Possibly a cake
And sometimes even her famous (and favorite) homemade ice cream
It’s only been in the last few years that she would accept any help at all for these meals.
It’s hard to even wrap my head around how many hours she must have spent in the kitchen preparing these feasts.
But she loved to do it.
And, she would have been offended if she didn’t get to do that for her family.
We can’t forget, though, that Martha gets a little “huffy” as she’s doing all the work and Mary’s not helping in their story. Martha goes so far as to call out Mary’s behavior to Jesus and let him know how Mary was being less than helpful.
From what I understand about Mary Lou, she would never have been one to get a little “huffy” about someone not helping her cook.
However, I do understand that, like Martha (and most of the Osborn women), she was what one might call a “strong” woman.
Or, maybe we should go with honest…
Either way,
If she didn’t like something, she didn’t have a problem telling you!
If she didn’t want to take a medication her doctor prescribed for her, she had no problem taking herself off of it and telling poor Dr. Winterhalter she wasn’t taking it. For three years, that poor guy tried to get her to take Pepcid, and she flat-out refused!
If she wanted to eat homemade ice cream, even though she was pre-diabetic and supposed to be avoiding sweets, she ate the homemade ice cream and wouldn’t hesitate to tell the doctor all about it.
We might not think much of a woman asserting herself, voicing her opinion, or being self-reliant today.
It’s an accepted and expected part of the world we live in.
If we take a step back and think about the generation Mary Lou belonged to, though, it’s a very different story.
She lived life independently on her own terms during a time when women just didn’t do that.
She spoke her mind and owned her voice during a time when women were encouraged to be nothing more than silent.
And, she raised two boys who turned into two men who value and encourage those traits in all the women in their own lives.
That will forever be a part of her legacy.
Like many other heroines of the bible, Mary Lou’s life wasn’t always filled with unicorns, sunshine, and roses. She faced challenges, hardships, setbacks, detours, and terminal diagnoses.
For some people, enduring even one of those challenges would have been enough to do them in, make them give up hope, denounce God, or send them into a spiraling depression.
Not Mary Lou, though.
Even on her last visit to her oncologist, as the cancer was taking over her lungs, her doctor asked her if she was in any pain. Mary Lou’s response: “well, not really. The good Lord’s been good to me all these years.”
It would have been so easy for Mary Lou to question the struggles, the heartache, and the illness over the years.
To ask God why.
To doubt His presence.
Through all the ups and downs, though, her faith never faltered.
Even as her body was shutting down, she still believed “the good Lord has been good to me.”
Again, as I look out at so many of you today whose lives she touched, I can see that is another part of her legacy that has been passed down to you.
Regardless of the heartaches, the struggles, the illnesses, I still see you living life with the same attitude as Mary Lou, fully believing that “the good Lord has been good to you.”
And, thank God we can rest in that truth and peace today.
Ecclesiastes 3 reminds us that:
There’s an opportune time to do things, a right time for everything on the earth:
A right time for birth and another for death,
A right time to plant and another to reap,
A right time to kill and another to heal,
A right time to destroy and another to construct,
A right time to cry and another to laugh,
A right time to lament and another to cheer,
A right time to make love and another to abstain,
A right time to embrace and another to part,
A right time to search and another to count your losses,
A right time to hold on and another to let go,
A right time to rip out and another to mend,
A right time to shut up and another to speak up,
A right time to love and another to hate,
A right time to wage war and another to make peace.
While we have peace and comfort knowing that Mary Lou is eating all the homemade ice cream she wants in heaven, God has given those of us here today permission to take the time to cry and to laugh, to lament and to cheer, to search and to count our losses, to hold on and to let go, to love and to make peace.
I pray that’s exactly what you will do today as you remember the life and extraordinary legacy of Mary Lou Osborn.
(Pray)
