Three Years Without Michelle - A Flawed Perspective

Michelle had a tick that gave her a half smile as she spoke to you. She was more comical than glamorous, and for much of her life, she was a tomboy. She had dreams of becoming a doctor, but she honestly wasn't all that bright. She asked for help when she needed it, and she was either unaware or just didn't care when she stepped on toes. Michelle loved Taylor Swift and coffee. She constantly teased me, with a twinkle of amusement in her eye. She was frank, and her voice had this matter-of-fact quality that made her plain-old funny. She was quietly compassionate and patient, but she never acted like a saint about it, which I think made her more selfless than I am. It is only after deep reflection and perspective that I even realize her patience with me was rooted in a deep and love and compassion for me. She never asked for thanks or attention. Michelle was a nonjudgmental listener and a selfless supporter. And had it not been for her death, she probably would not have continued to be a part of my life post-graduation.

Michelle's death in March 2013 sent me spiraling into a deep grief, a grief which would mark the very face of my personality, identity, and life decisions for the next two years. My heart shuddered from the trauma - it's like the feeling you get when a car barrels down the street a little too close to you on the sidewalk, and the air seems to shake you back and forth for a moment. Slow-motion flashbacks from the moment I found out about her death intrusively invaded my thoughts.

Over the summer, I fell in love, and my thousand-year-old heart once again felt young. Somewhere in there, I realized I stopped thinking about Michelle every day. I still think about her, but I remember the days when I couldn't go fifteen minutes without thinking about her. It defined me. Now, God is telling a new story in my life. I thought I would never recover; I didn't want to recover. I wanted to show the importance of her life through my grief. But that's never what she would have wanted. I can see her now, scrunching up her face at me like I was crazy, as she often did, emphatically and skeptically asking, "Why??" I have grieved, but there is a time to grieve and a time to laugh, and I think God wants us to enjoy the blessings he has given us. Becoming thankful and joyful again has been a gradual journey. Now I realize that we don't get to raise our fists at God and demand answers. God asks in Job 38:

"Who is this that darkens my counsel with words without knowledge? Brace yourself like a man; I will question you, and you shall answer me. Where were you when I laid the earth's foundation? Tell me if you understand. Who marked off its dimensions? Surely you know! ...Who shut up the sea behind doors when it burst forth from the womb when I made the clouds its garment and wrapped it in thick darkness, when I fixed limits for it and set its doors and bars in place, when I said, 'This far you may come and no farther; here is your proud waves halt'?"

The question isn't, "God, how could you?" Yeah, it's a valuable academic question, but let's be honest: we're not just wondering, we are accusing. The true question is, "Do you trust the sovereign Lord?" Nonchristians aren't going to understand this. They'll say I'm intentionally blinding myself to the facts; I'm not. I'm just choosing to trust God in what I
do understand and in what I don't understand. And that's what it means to be a Christian. To be a Christian is to trust God with your life, and that trust reaches into every nook and cranny. Trust God with your schoolwork, your relationships, your future, and yes, I even must trust God with Michelle. I have a long way to go. I'm not the woman I want to be. What I'm saying is that as the anniversary of Michelle's death comes around, I have a lot more perspective about it all than I did before. It wouldn't have taken a well-adjusted person three years to simply gain perspective, but I'm a really broken person.

I recently read that the goal of Christian living is not self-improvement, but knowing and enjoying God (Desiring God). That stuck with me. Without thinking, if I could sum up where I am, it would be to say, "I need to be better." But Christ tells us that we are complete in Him. I haven't handled all this well, and even in recovery, I still am not good. But God is good, and I am thankful for where He has taken me over the past three years. This month, I remember Michelle, but I do so from a place of freedom in Christ. Praise God.