My grandparents, who I call "Nana" and "Poppy," had five kids. My dad and his younger sister Jill shared a special bond. I've heard a lot of stories about Jill. She was really smart, so smart that her kindergarten teachers suggested she skip to the second grade. But she was more than just brains. She was fun.
My grandparents moved to a farmhouse when Dad was nine and Jill was six. There was a lot of land, which meant more space for animals. Dad had a horse named Cochise, and Jill called hers Sugar (but she probably spent more time spoiling her kitten, Carmel!). Some of my dad's greatest memories of living on the farm involve performing shows with his younger sister in the barn. They built their own stage with working spotlights, trap doors, and a curtain made from a bed-sheet. Dad recalls the friendly contest he and Kelly, the oldest sibling, would have over Jill. Sometimes, Jill was "Kelly's buddy," and other times she was "Matt's buddy." The rivalry never got too serious, but it was always a wonder who Jill was going to buddy with for the day.
Needless to say, everyone became well adjusted to the "country lifestyle." There were always things to do on the farm, but Dad found other ways to keep busy, like playing T-Ball for a summer league.
One Monday night in July 1978, Dad's team was matched up against the Vaughn Auctioneers, their biggest opponent. It was the bottom of the fifth inning and Dad was watching the game from the bench, bored (naturally). There was an ice cream truck across the street, and Dad escaped over to the bleachers where Nana was sitting and begged her for some money. Nana urged he focus on the game and get his butt back over to the bench, lest he forfeit a chance to get out on the field. He did as she said, and Nana then gave Jill and Kelly some extra dollars to go buy a cold treat.
It wasn't long thereafter when a loud noise turned heads toward the street. A red pickup truck disappeared behind the trees, and Jill's body laid motionless there on the ground.
The world lost an angel that day but Heaven gained one. In her six short years, Jill brought joy to all those around her. She loved God and was living proof of His love for us. Her favorite Bible verse was 2 Timothy 1:7, "For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, of love, and of a sound mind." My dad's last memories of her are ones full of life. The day she died, Jill chose to be "Matt's buddy." In what precious hours she shared with my dad on that July 10th, the two of them played together and laughed.
The accident was decried by the local newspaper as "tragically avoidable," but Nana and Poppy decided not to press charges against the 26-year old man who killed their daughter. They thought making someone carry that burden was enough of a sentence, but Poppy was not content to move on without bearing witness to the power of God and His grace. It's a power that picks up where the weakness of being human falls short.
Poppy visited the man and, face-to-face, said he forgave him. Today marks 34 years that Jill has been gone, and this November she would have celebrated her 40th birthday. For my dad and his family, it could have been 34 years of bitterness, anger, hopelessness, and distance from God... But they have chosen forgiveness and experience the freedom that comes from His full restoration.
Understand that forgiveness is not forgetting or ignoring the pain, nor is it something that we wait until we feel like giving. If that was the case, our hearts would never be ready. Rather, it is a process that involves agreeing to live with consequences, releasing our right to vengeance, and depending on God for help.
You see, if we don't forgive, we are still bound by a weight to the exact same thing we're trying to get rid of. The LORD forgives us not because we deserve it but because of His grace, which supplies us with just what we need for the moment.
The Women of Faith "God's Goodness" Study Guide Series puts it like this: Mercy means not giving someone what they deserve. Grace is unmerited (unearned, undeserved) favor.
My dad has been working on writing a book about lessons he has learned from his life. With permission, I wanted to include an excerpt from the chapter about Jill:
Tragedy can destroy a family, ours was fortified. Loss can make one question their faith, we grew in ours. I would never pretend to indicate that Jill's death was a blessing; none of us would have chosen it given the option. But we weren't given the option, so the manner in which we approached our healing demonstrated where we placed our treasure.
Maybe you've been holding onto a grudge or a memory that has hardened your heart. Is there anybody you need to forgive, maybe not for their good but for your own? I heard someone say once that doing so lets go of all hope for a better past. You can't change what is already done, but you can change your attitude.
Today, choose forgiveness. Don't wait for tomorrow because, you never know, it might not come.
-Rachel
My grandparents moved to a farmhouse when Dad was nine and Jill was six. There was a lot of land, which meant more space for animals. Dad had a horse named Cochise, and Jill called hers Sugar (but she probably spent more time spoiling her kitten, Carmel!). Some of my dad's greatest memories of living on the farm involve performing shows with his younger sister in the barn. They built their own stage with working spotlights, trap doors, and a curtain made from a bed-sheet. Dad recalls the friendly contest he and Kelly, the oldest sibling, would have over Jill. Sometimes, Jill was "Kelly's buddy," and other times she was "Matt's buddy." The rivalry never got too serious, but it was always a wonder who Jill was going to buddy with for the day.
Needless to say, everyone became well adjusted to the "country lifestyle." There were always things to do on the farm, but Dad found other ways to keep busy, like playing T-Ball for a summer league.
One Monday night in July 1978, Dad's team was matched up against the Vaughn Auctioneers, their biggest opponent. It was the bottom of the fifth inning and Dad was watching the game from the bench, bored (naturally). There was an ice cream truck across the street, and Dad escaped over to the bleachers where Nana was sitting and begged her for some money. Nana urged he focus on the game and get his butt back over to the bench, lest he forfeit a chance to get out on the field. He did as she said, and Nana then gave Jill and Kelly some extra dollars to go buy a cold treat.
It wasn't long thereafter when a loud noise turned heads toward the street. A red pickup truck disappeared behind the trees, and Jill's body laid motionless there on the ground.
The world lost an angel that day but Heaven gained one. In her six short years, Jill brought joy to all those around her. She loved God and was living proof of His love for us. Her favorite Bible verse was 2 Timothy 1:7, "For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, of love, and of a sound mind." My dad's last memories of her are ones full of life. The day she died, Jill chose to be "Matt's buddy." In what precious hours she shared with my dad on that July 10th, the two of them played together and laughed.The accident was decried by the local newspaper as "tragically avoidable," but Nana and Poppy decided not to press charges against the 26-year old man who killed their daughter. They thought making someone carry that burden was enough of a sentence, but Poppy was not content to move on without bearing witness to the power of God and His grace. It's a power that picks up where the weakness of being human falls short.
Poppy visited the man and, face-to-face, said he forgave him. Today marks 34 years that Jill has been gone, and this November she would have celebrated her 40th birthday. For my dad and his family, it could have been 34 years of bitterness, anger, hopelessness, and distance from God... But they have chosen forgiveness and experience the freedom that comes from His full restoration.
Understand that forgiveness is not forgetting or ignoring the pain, nor is it something that we wait until we feel like giving. If that was the case, our hearts would never be ready. Rather, it is a process that involves agreeing to live with consequences, releasing our right to vengeance, and depending on God for help.
You see, if we don't forgive, we are still bound by a weight to the exact same thing we're trying to get rid of. The LORD forgives us not because we deserve it but because of His grace, which supplies us with just what we need for the moment.
The Women of Faith "God's Goodness" Study Guide Series puts it like this: Mercy means not giving someone what they deserve. Grace is unmerited (unearned, undeserved) favor.
My dad has been working on writing a book about lessons he has learned from his life. With permission, I wanted to include an excerpt from the chapter about Jill:
Tragedy can destroy a family, ours was fortified. Loss can make one question their faith, we grew in ours. I would never pretend to indicate that Jill's death was a blessing; none of us would have chosen it given the option. But we weren't given the option, so the manner in which we approached our healing demonstrated where we placed our treasure.
Maybe you've been holding onto a grudge or a memory that has hardened your heart. Is there anybody you need to forgive, maybe not for their good but for your own? I heard someone say once that doing so lets go of all hope for a better past. You can't change what is already done, but you can change your attitude.
Today, choose forgiveness. Don't wait for tomorrow because, you never know, it might not come.
-Rachel
Goodness, Rachel! What a wonderful posting! There are SO many things I love about this.
ReplyDelete1) Just the details of life on the King Family farm put a smile on my face. Having grown up on a farm, I can relate to a lot of that.
2) The attitude your grandparents (and family) showed about the tragic loss of Jill is just flat out inspiring to me. Forgiveness is just not something we 'naturally' want to do. Although I'm sure the last 34 years has been tough, holding a grudge and NOT forgiving eventually just eats us up.
3) Like I said, real life stories of forgiveness like these are so encouraging to me. When I read about people like Corrie ten Boom forgiving the Nazi guard who had a part in her sister's death in a concentration camp, I have to think...."how can she do that?". When she met him face-to-face, she thought "forgiveness is not an emotion—I knew that too. Forgiveness is an act of the will, and the will can function regardless of the temperature of the heart."
Forgiveness DOES take time, but it unloads a burden that can eat us up.
Holding on and not forgiving really is like I've heard it described..."like drinking poison and hoping the other person dies".
Thanks again for this posting, Rachel. A very tough subject, but you painted a beautiful picture. I'll be praying for your family on this 34th anniversary.
I, too, am glad this is only our temporary home!