Five years ago from this very moment I was at Fairmount camp settled into bed with my friend and roomy Sarah giggling and talking about life. Five years ago I wish I had known to document everything that happened that week or that night, or that I would have known to be more aware of each little detail and word. I wish I would have asked her more questions, told her how much I appreciated her friendship, laughed more. I wish I would have known her not feeling well that night was resulting in something much bigger for the next day. I wish I would have just gone with her to sign up instead of going with the group so that I would have been there in that moment she collapsed, so she wouldn't have been alone. Sometimes, I wish more than anything that the blessing of being with her that last week would not have come to me, but to others more deserving.
Five years ago today, was one of the hardest days of my life. I can't really tell you there is much more clarity at this time than there was then as to why she was taken. I don't know that that question will ever really be answered for me. I do know that it taught me a lot about myself and my relationship with God going through that experience. I remember very clearly that night before I sat in Bethel Tabernacle with my youth pastor, James, saying that I was just feeling bored. Like there was some big step I should be taking but I didn't know what it was except that it was coming. I clearly remember praying that God would put something huge in my life because I was ready for it. If only I knew how those words would hit me even 24 hours later. Certainly, I don't believe that God decided to have Sarah die to give me something new to learn. But I do know that He could not have been more present than in those moments, days, weeks, months, and years of grieving that came soon after. An overriding peace like I have never felt was there in the moments when I felt like people were looking to me for strength and wisdom, when I stood watching her family say goodbye one by one as her casket was closed, when I stood behind her casket to sing, when it seemed I had wept all that I could, when I felt entirely spent. He came in peace.
He also came in people. So many who I knew, but the did not know her and months later were likely tired of hearing me be so down still, but stood by me anyway. People who were willing to listen. People who gave me wisdom when I needed it and were understanding when I didn't want to hear it. Grief is such a strange process that I can't say I really completely understand. But I know it has made me a more understanding person to go through it. I don't pretend to know exactly what every person who loses someone is going through, but there is still some common ground, I believe, in the pain of loss.
Sarah was a wonderful, amazing girl. I remember much of our last conversations and one in particular where she talked by name about so many different people in her life and how much she respected them or how much she loved them, and for some how much she really desired for them to know the Lord and have more joy in Him. God had really met with her that night before her death and she had plans for how and when she wanted to talk to them about having a stronger relationship with Him. Her heart for others was huge. Little did she know her life would stand as the testament to them. I can almost see her blushing, hearing all the attention and kind words that came for her after her death. Hard to believe that it has been five years since Corey and Mada's passing as well. They are also dearly missed.
Life has gone on, whether I wanted it to or not. Small steps through grief gradually brought me to where I am. God showed me that huge things in life will happen and that He is powerful enough to cover it all. He gave me faith when I was too weak to fully believe. It was a phase of life that shaped me. Spurned me into realizing a definite call to vocational ministry. Which took me to the phase of college. And now to the phase of growing up. I am excited for all that God has already set in motion for my move to Atlanta, but it's in reflecting that I am reminded the lessons in life and times when He teaches me the most about His love are not the easiest times. I can't confess I'm really ready or that I ever will be, but I am willing. Teach me Lord.
In Memory of Sarah Jean Chaffins- January 1, 1985- July 10, 2003
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