R.I.P.
Allow me to introduce you to Jeanine Dooley. Brace yourself--her story is staggering. Our relationship began years ago when I was a mom of two young children and in my late twenties. One of the members of our Sunday school class brought an urgent prayer request to our attention one Sunday. A mother in a nearby town had two young children, a toddler and a baby, who were gravely ill. These were her only children. The doctors were mystified by the cause of their matching illnesses, but the prognosis for both looked dim. Because most of us were mothers about her age with children similar ages, we were devastated for her. We fell on our faces before God in prayer, interceding as hard as we could. The thought that God might take those two children home, as the doctors feared, was inconceivable...until it happened.
We were overcome with grief for a precious set of parents we had never met. All of us prayed fervently for God to give them a reason to live. Because God had indelibly engraved this Christian couple on our hearts, we were filled with great rejoicing over a year later we heard the news that God had given them a brand-new bouncing baby. I cannot explain our shock and grief months later when we learned that this little one had taken on the same symptoms as the siblings. A few days later, we received word that the third child of Steve and Jeanine Dooley had toddled through the gates of heaven.
We were wrought with confusion and questions, and our young faith rocked like a rickety boat in a winter storm. My class and I could not being to imagine the suffering of this heartbroken couple. Jeanine was thirty-one, had buried all three of her children to a rare genetic problem, and would never be able to have any more. Having still never met them or corresponded with them personally, we all vowed to intercede as long as God left the burden on our hearts. A short while later, I took a different Sunday school class, and most of us went our separate directions in Church life.
For several years, this couple came to my mind almost daily. Over the next decade, I still thought of them often. I had no idea what had happened to them or whether their marriage had survived such unimaginable tragedy. Several years ago, I received a letter at my home address. It began,
Dear Beth,
You do not know me but I feel as if I know you. I have become familiar with you through your Bible studies. Recently I learned of the loss of your adopted son and his return to his birth mother. I am heart-broken for you, and I am writing to tell you that I am committing to pray you through your loss. I know that right now you might not think you will ever find joy in life again, but I am writing to encourage you that God is faithful. I know because three years ago, I lost three children...
My eyes fastened to those four words as a shock wave went through me. I had only known of one couple who had ever lost three of their children. I flipped the letter over to see the signature. I cannot describe all the feelings that surged through my soul when I saw the closing:
With love and prayers,
Jeanine Dooley
I burst into tears and called directory assistance in that small city. I shook all over as I phoned her immediately, I sobbed as I said, "Jeanine, I prayed for you on my face before God over and over when you lost those precious children! And now you are praying for me!" I insisted then as I still insist now that our losses could not possibly be compared. Michael is still very much alive. My name doesn't belong in the same paragraph as hers. In no way was our suffering similar. What was similar was our resolve to make it in Christ no matter what came our way. We have built a long-distance friendship on that similarity. Neither one of us could fathom how the Lord had woven our lives together through praying for absolute strangers...yet sisters in the body of Christ. When I began this book and planned this chapter, I knew I couldn't do it without Jeanine. She is proof positive that we can survive any loss and trust God to sustain us, restore us, and eventually even grant us joy, purpose and abundant life. When I asked if I could use her tender story and the Scripture to which she cleaved in her devastation, she wrote:
I consider this a joyous occasion to be able to share the Scriptures that God has used to bring about healing. . . I asked God many years ago to please use me in any way that might glorify His name and in a way that would bring comfort to those in pain. At this point in my life, I feel that God has brought me to a place where 2 Corinthians 1: 3-4 is very real and a part of who I am: "Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received." That's part of what my ministry on this earth is all about. I can never say that I am glad to have lost my children or even that I think God planned it this way. But I can say that my losses have turned out to be strengths in my life and I do consider it a privilege to serve God in the matter He has seen fit in my life.
What I want more than anything is to know God in an intimate way, and to serve Him and to share with everyone I possibly can that Jesus Christ is Lord and that this can be a wonderful life on earth, but nothing compared to what is ahead for us glory.
This time the letter was signed, not by a stranger and not just by a friend. But by a hero.
Love,
Jeanine
Personal Comment: Over the weekend one of my husband's best friends telephoned to say that a friend of his 16 year old son died in a car accident, while texting on his cell phone. As you have just read anytime a family loses a child no matter the circumstances it's heartbreaking. And even though we don't know this family by name, we do know of their loss. So could you please kept them in your prayers.
Then last night while fixing dinner, one our cats suddenly became sick with symptoms similar to that of a stroke. Much to our shock and dismay "Chelsea Girl" peacefully pass away at 12:25 a.m. She never closed her eyes as she drew her last breath because she didn't want to go. She was almost twenty years old.
Chelsea was a mess but she was our mess and we loved her. I will miss having her jumping on the bed a dozen times to wake me up in the mornings to feed her. One of my favorite memories of her was how she loved to sit in a chair with her paws on top of the dinner table and watch us eat supper. I think it was Chelsea way of showing us that yes, she was part of our family. If we had company she was not happy having to give up her seat to someone else at the dinner table.
Chelsea Girl we LOVED you and you LOVED us! May you rest in peace.
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