Every year we have gathered the children, put them in their best Sunday clothes, and hurried them out past the baskets filled with chocolates, and a yard filled with colored eggs as we head off to church. Before leaving the house, we have always stopped to take an Easter family picture, and this year was not different.
We began our Family picture tradition in 2007 after squashing a prior traditional photo. When Madeline was just over 1 year old we stood in line for the 7th time to greet the tall, grossly ill-proportioned Rabbit of the season in the vestibule of the local mall. After waiting nearly an hour, Madeline approached the “landing zone” with fear and apprehension. Not long before we had taken her to meet the biggest man in the most vibrant red suit of her life. She was not nearly as impressed as we had hoped for either encounter. As we stepped onto the faux grass set, walking beneath the dangling, cardboard eggs suspended from the ceiling, we decided this was a terrible plan. We never took that photo. We walked away, our two girls grateful they dodged a night of dreams no one could call sweet.
It also began our year of family photos. In the spring of 2007, we were invited to a school Easter Egg Hunt at a classmate’s home. We sat on the lawn enjoying tea, snacks, and a bounty of colored eggs. There was even a bunny who mingled among the crowd, in a much less intimidating way. There were no tears, and we were able to capture some delightful family photos.
Just three years later we took our last picture together as a family of four. In 2011, we took our first picture without our oldest, Elizabeth. It was the hardest Easter for us. We didn’t know how to smile as a family who was forever broken. Yet, it was the Easter that we truly appreciated the sacrifice made on our behalf. Having lost our firstborn after having her for just over ten years gave us a glimpse of the pain God and Mary must have felt. We knew what it was to lose a child with no chance of changing the outcome. We were unable to secure her future on Earth, and it was terrifying to not appreciate where she would go and how she would be without us, or how we would be without her.
How did God make that choice to subject His son to unrelenting torture and pain so that He could die? As a parent of a cancer child, I understood, a little. After months of enduring unbearable pain, we wanted it to end for our child, even if it meant death. There are no words to describe what that choice looks like. How do you choose death as a better alternative than living? Is that more considerate?
As Jesus lived among mere mortals, He endured pain on a daily basis. He knew the sin around Him would be detrimental to the societal whole. He had to live in agony to be so incredibly different and incapable of bringing any real change. It was only through His death that His real purpose and potential could come through.
After having two girls gone, we are still seeing the imact their lives, and deaths, have had on others. We have learned that some youth came to Christ after Maddie’s testimony was shared in the days following her passing. We have learned that so many people are still inspired by the faith our family has shown, consistently, though not perfectly, in the years since our tragedies began. Often times we are asked how we have such incredible faith after such devastation.
God’s willingness to send His Son to the cross for us is the ultimate sacrifice, one only a loving Father could offer. God could have sacrificed anyone, or no one really. God could have sent Jesus to simply share the gospel and return to Him and leave us to our own devices regarding salvation. Yet, the sacrifice of a parent giving up their own, and even ONLY, child for the salvation of others who don’t reciprocate the same love is immeasurable. How did God love me enough to give up HIS child? Sure, His son returned home, but I will tell you, to watch your child suffer is no choice a parent willingly makes. It is utterly painful to watch knowing it is what has to be done for the better (in the case of cancer, the treatment is awful but is necessary, in the case of Christ, He had to endure pain and suffering for me).
As a parent, I cannot express how much that willingness to sacrifice means, and the promise that ensues for me afterward. God gave His son, so that I will not spend eternity parted from my children. If I believe Christ died for my sins, I know more importantly, He died for our eternal life.
I do not enjoy the separation I have from my girls because of death, yet I rejoice and face another day knowing my eternity is secured in salvation with them. My job in my remaining days is to share our story with others so they may know the same promise and join us in heaven one day.
The promise of the cross is unlike any other promise made by man. This one will never be broken, will never disappoint, and will never be forgotten. Am I broken, disappointed, and saddened because of death, certainly, but it was coming with or without Christ’s promise.
Where is your promise? Do you appreciate the sacrifice made at Calvary for you, and have you accepted the gift so lovingly given to you?