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| Maribeth, May 2011 |
Heaven welcomed a new angel this morning, and I know He was overjoyed to bring her home. He came in His own perfect and glorious time to reclaim a soul so faithful and content with His plan for her that it takes my breath away to even think of it. He created such a beautiful woman, from the inside out, that transformed lives both big and small. I am forever changed by my friendship with her, convinced that He blessed us with a companionship that just by knowing her, would draw me closer to Him. Short a time as it was, it has changed who I am, how I think about life, what I place importance on. Maybe even where I am going.
In April of last year, after she was diagnosed with her brain tumor, she gave me a beautiful Bible -- written in an unfamiliar, contemporary language -- but one that has spoken to me in a way that no other book of His Word has. Her cancer caused her to lose many skills in this past year, one of which was writing, but somehow she managed to pen an inscription inside the front cover that I will forever cherish: To Sarah, who loves from the center of her being. I love you. Maribeth. She also marked a verse for me, one I knew then that I could never unmark. Without hesitation, it is the one I turned to this morning. When I read it, my heart burst...and I saw things in it that I never had before. How did she know it would bring so much meaning to me on this day? How did she know that, with all the worries and anxiety I have floating around in my head these last few weeks, THESE words were the ones? Her heart was knowing, and I think she marked it to reference a plan for living life. She marked it to remind me.
This journey wasn't about me at all. This was her journey -- all hers. She knew the plan from that very first day --His plan -- for how she was going to live it all out, how she would submit and serve Him through it all, and she asked us all to support her choice. Even at a time when many would crumble and wither -- when I would crumble and wither -- she absolutely flourished. Our talks last Spring were filled at first with a quiet fear on my part and a rumbling strength on hers. But that changed a little over the course of the year, and although I knew the end would come, I also knew, as she often reminded everyone, "Either way, this is a win-win for me!" It is a victory of sorts for her...a bittersweet one, albeit. Today was the death of the body that housed the soul of a beautiful woman, one the Lord created with skilled hands, with vision and with tremendous, incomprehensible love. During our quiet talks, we acknowledged this day would come, but we did not dwell on it. Her eyes said the words, and mine heard them...she didn't have to utter the unspeakable truth of it all. And that's okay. I heard what her heart was saying. I think, somehow, when she wrote those words inside her gift to me, when she marked the verse, she knew that they would be a friend to me even after she was gone. The words in blue ink inside the front cover and the wisdom and truth-filled words she marked will always minister to me, just as she always did. In her dying, she found the time and strength to think about comforting me in my eventual sorrow. How selfless is that? The passage will remind me of a lady with a heart so filled with love for God, for her husband, for her family, for her children, for her friends, and for the beautiful, wee souls that she taught. His Word was the essence of who she was. What a gift it was when our paths crossed four years ago.
In the past few weeks, speaking has been next to impossible for her, and the only words she was granted the clarity, as I see it, to speak were HIS -- yet another blessing from the Lord. "All things...Christ." Those were the last words she kept repeating before I left her house last Friday. Those were the last words I ever heard her say. She meant All things through Christ who strengthens me. Those were the Words that she spoke so often, the ones that, I think, brought her through this journey, the Words she fervently believed in. And those Words were the ones she was able to speak to so many to remind us of how we were going to get through the loss of the woman we loved.
This journey wasn't about me at all. This was her journey -- all hers. She knew the plan from that very first day --His plan -- for how she was going to live it all out, how she would submit and serve Him through it all, and she asked us all to support her choice. Even at a time when many would crumble and wither -- when I would crumble and wither -- she absolutely flourished. Our talks last Spring were filled at first with a quiet fear on my part and a rumbling strength on hers. But that changed a little over the course of the year, and although I knew the end would come, I also knew, as she often reminded everyone, "Either way, this is a win-win for me!" It is a victory of sorts for her...a bittersweet one, albeit. Today was the death of the body that housed the soul of a beautiful woman, one the Lord created with skilled hands, with vision and with tremendous, incomprehensible love. During our quiet talks, we acknowledged this day would come, but we did not dwell on it. Her eyes said the words, and mine heard them...she didn't have to utter the unspeakable truth of it all. And that's okay. I heard what her heart was saying. I think, somehow, when she wrote those words inside her gift to me, when she marked the verse, she knew that they would be a friend to me even after she was gone. The words in blue ink inside the front cover and the wisdom and truth-filled words she marked will always minister to me, just as she always did. In her dying, she found the time and strength to think about comforting me in my eventual sorrow. How selfless is that? The passage will remind me of a lady with a heart so filled with love for God, for her husband, for her family, for her children, for her friends, and for the beautiful, wee souls that she taught. His Word was the essence of who she was. What a gift it was when our paths crossed four years ago.
In the past few weeks, speaking has been next to impossible for her, and the only words she was granted the clarity, as I see it, to speak were HIS -- yet another blessing from the Lord. "All things...Christ." Those were the last words she kept repeating before I left her house last Friday. Those were the last words I ever heard her say. She meant All things through Christ who strengthens me. Those were the Words that she spoke so often, the ones that, I think, brought her through this journey, the Words she fervently believed in. And those Words were the ones she was able to speak to so many to remind us of how we were going to get through the loss of the woman we loved.
While my heart aches to wrap my arms around my dear friend, I am also filled with a strange and unfamiliar sense of joy. I know what that is. It's called peace. She had it inside her, and it grew faster and larger than the cancer that claimed her life. Victory. I am sure she is happy to know it was contagious. I know she is smiling, she is joyous, she is exuberant at His side, she has the answers to many questions, and her heart is radiating with His peace. I even think my cardinal (hello, Dad) that stops now and then on my deckpost must now have a new friend. There she was, amidst the pouring rain this morning, waiting to greet me when I arrived home from her house. There she was, sitting on the very same deckpost, quiet and still, waiting for me, staring at me, watching me sob. She hasn't found her little voice yet, but her gentle silence and calm identifies her. I always told Maribeth, "Even when you can't talk to me, I will hear what your heart is saying." That new little brown sparrow will find her voice soon, and when she does, I know the Words she will proclaim with her sweet chirps. One of the last things I whispered to her was, "Please send me a sign. I promise I will look. I will know it's you." Therein lies the plain and simple truth of life: if we choose to look, our eyes will see. I believe that. It makes me happy, when I think of how she must feel right now, and I know the tears will stop. I won't ever believe she is gone, so to speak, and I know where she is -- as close as a whisper. I choose to see. The sadness in my heart must move over and make room for joy, and thankfulness will roll off my tongue in every prayer I speak. It is a privilege when God gives us friends. Her love was...it is a blessing...and I am truly happy in my heart because I know she is living in peace.
Maribeth Spangenberg is dancing now. She is testing out her wings. I can't wait to hear her sing. And I know that forevermore, she will kneel before Him in gratitude for all He blessed her with. I believe I will hear her sweet voice when I choose to listen. Through her...because of her...I hear Him louder and clearer than ever before.
Sweet Maribeth is filled with New Life. And I guess, so to speak, I am, too.
Thank you, my friend, for helping me see.
Thank you, my friend, for helping me see.
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| A beautifully amazing woman, at the finish line. |
LOVE from the center of who you are; don't fake it. Run for dear life from evil; hold on for dear life to good. Be good friends who love deeply; practice playing second fiddle.
Don't burn out; keep yourselves fueled and aflame. Be alert servants of the Master, cheerfully expectant. Don't quit in hard times; pray all the harder; be inventive in hospitality.
Bless your enemies; no cursing under your breath. Laugh with your happy friends when they're happy; share tears when they're down. Get along with each other; don't be stuck-up. Make friends with nobodies; don't be the great somebody.
Don't hit back; discover beauty in everyone. If you've got it in you, get along with everybody. Don't insist on getting even; that's not for you to do. "I'll do the judging," says God. "I'll take care of it."
Romans 12:9-19
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| One fantastic family. The Spangenbergs, May 2011 -- Rich, Maribeth, Jordan, Alexander, Jared, and Blair. |
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