Chelsa Wojciakowski: Blog Updates: Death

"Our dead are never dead to us, until we have forgotten them." ~George Eliot

Gramma Woj and Aunt Patsy,
1946, as printed in Michigan
Outdoors Magazine.

Since we were married three and a half years ago, Chelsa and I have lost four grandmothers (five including Grandma Sowa the year before we married). Last week, Chelsa's "Gram" passed away and the week prior I lost my "Gramma Woj." It seems that death, or the prospect of it, has consistently been a part of our lives in one way or another. It is one thing to understand that death overtakes us all, but it's another to have it play such a persistent, noticeable, and inescapable part of our lives. Neither Chelsa nor I were able to have great closure on the recent losses of our grandmas. Life get's so busy, money is tight, both our grandmas passed far from where we live, and neither of our families chose to have a large funeral. It's not at all that either of us really wanted to spend a lot of time weeping in funeral clothes, but it's simply hard to know what to do with the loss of people we deeply loved and felt very deeply loved by.

Chelsa and Gram, Nov 2013.

As we've discussed this, Chelsa shared special memories of always feeling loved and never judged by her Gram, even during some of her more rebellious phases (complete with the colorful geriatrically-repelling hair). She longed to hold her Gram's hand one more time, play a board game with her and try on some of Gram's amazing costume jewelry. I long to head 'Up North' to the Cabin one more time with my Gramma Woj --along with cousins, aunts, uncles, and the typical giant crew that seemed to accompany her everywhere. Gramma and Gramps Woj managed to have ten kids, many of whom also had a handful of kids, who now also have a few kids (another two new ones arrived just this month). The thing was about my Gramma Woj, despite being constantly surrounded by the craziness of a huge family, neighbors that were stopping over on a daily basis, and all that's involved with running a very tight ship on a thin budget while providing for everyone's needs... she somehow found the time to make sure that I knew that I was her favorite. ...I know, this seems a little unfair to all of her other kids and grandkids, but 'it is what it is.' Or so I thought, until I began to discover that most everyone in our family felt the same way. I believe I've begun to better understand this being married to Chelsa. She shares the same gift for making everyone in her life feel extremely special and cherished. It's not just good people skills or some sort of trick, she genuinely LOVES people. The issue with loving people so deeply is that it makes loss all the more devastating.

Highschool graduation with
Gramps Wojo,Gram Bolle, Matt, Mom Wojo, and Gramma Wojo, 1995.

As I've been wrestling with the loss of three grandmas over the past few years (Gram Bolle-my mom's mom, Grandma Sowa-my stepmom's mom, and recently Gramma Woj-my dad's mom), I have also been wrestling with subconscious thoughts about losing Chelsa. Her cancer, it's effects, and it's lack of clearly effective treatments are constantly looming over our heads. ...So WHAT DO WE DO WITH ALL THIS?

I recently read some things from the Scottish theologian Sinclair Ferguson that I wanted to share...

We have already seen that God's work in our lives is, generally speaking, long-term and progressive, rather than sudden and critical. But we have noticed also that the Christian life is punctuated by crises. It begins with the great crisis of regeneration with its inherent sanctifying power in which we are set free once-for-all from the reign of sin. The ensuing struggle which we experience is a long-drawn-out process of warfare against the world, the flesh and the Devil. But that struggle has an end.

Gram Bolle lovin' on Me, 1989?

This rings true for me -- for many of us life is hard. That has seemed especially true for Chelsa and I lately, I'm sure it seemed very true for our grandmothers as they lived through the Great Depression, the sicknesses and (for some) deaths of children, the loss of their husbands (Chelsa and I have lost all of our Grandfathers as well, each preceded their wife in death). So given how hard life can be, in some ways, death should seem like a relief, if not a joyous occasion for those who believe in a Heavenly afterlife... as Chelsa and I do... yet, we don't really feel like celebrating and such sentiments can feel sort of hollow. This rang especially true as I sat with my Grandma Bolle, who by most comparisons all would agree passed 'Peacefully' in her hospital bed... but I saw her fight for breath, her fear of moving on, and felt the sorrow of leaving her beloved family.

Thankfully Sinclair continues on...

In Scripture, death is regarded as part of the curse of sin. Death is not what we sometimes mistakenly suggest it is -- a blessing, a release, a peaceful end. All of these may be found by the Christian in and through death, but they are in fact contrary to the true nature of death. For death is disintegration. It is the breaking of a union which God created. In and of itself it is an ugly, destructive thing -- it is 'the last enemy'.

Death severs us from those we love... it also breaks apart our body from our spirit. That is a divorce of a magnitude beyond my frail understanding. Simply as a prospect it is a terrifying one.

Gram Bolle (born Irene McGarvey)'s
New Testament Bible from 1927

Great-grandpa Bolle's
Dutch Bible, printed 1919

I have felt both the terror of losing the people I love most, as well as the terror of losing my own life. While, thankfully, I have never myself been in all that serious of an accident, nor been diagnosed with any life-threatening diseases, I have been in a few brief situations, as many of us have, that allowed my mind to go to that place of terror and panic that would drive one to grasp for continued life at any cost. One somewhat unique thing about, however, is that my family lineage holds a long line of faith -- Catholic on my Dad's side and Protestant on my Mom's (if we want to put denominational labels on it). On my bookshelf I have a small New Testament Bible that was given to my Grandma Bolle for good Sunday School attendance in about 1927, as well as a small Dutch Bible printed in 1919 that belonged to my Great-Grandfather. While I have not always been a believer, I have always belonged to Jesus and I have felt his presence throughout my life. Actually, the majority of both Chelsa and I's family members profess belief in God. Though, as with many families I imagine, how these beliefs shake out varies widely and, for the most part, we don't talk about our beliefs much (with our immediately family being an exception). It becomes a worry -- is this or that family member 'saved'?! Even for myself, during those times of terror at the prospect of losing someone or losing my own life, I wonder... do I REALLY believe?

We see varying responses, from fear to carelessness, sorrow to glad anticipation, and these responses are largely determined by the prospect men have beyond death.

In the New Testament when we read of death it is usually of its defeat. Jesus Christ came in our flesh in order to taste and share our death. He became like us, in weakness, temptability and suffering in order to die. When our Lord contemplated death as it is in itself he said that his heart was filled with sorrow. He asks God that such a cup might pass from him. We should not therefore lose sight of what death itself is -- the destroyer of life. Paul (in the New Testament) tells us that by bearing our guilt and punishment on the cross, Christ was able to disarm the principalities and powers... he dealt with the basis for Satan's grip on our lives, namely sin. The grip which the Devil has on a Christian is weakened and broken... we are no longer children of wrath... we may now be set free from our bondage to the fear of death!

Matt & Chelsa's Wedding with
Chel's Grandma Beard, 2010.

I typically do not feel in anyway thankful for suffering, for losing my grandparents, nor for daily facing the burden of supporting my wife and partner as she battles cancer. I more typically just feel angry or sad. Since I've professed my own belief in God and the sacrificial redeeming death of his son Jesus on the Cross, I have noticed a profound change though. It didn't come all at once, like a flipped switch, it has grown over years, tremendously benefiting from reading, TALKING deeply with friends and family, LISTENING to good teaching, lots of sermons and preachers and Godly men and women, and lots and lots of PRAYER -- talking things out with God.

For the Christian does not contemplate death in itself. He now sees it, as he sees all things, 'in Christ'... I know that when I walk through the valley of deep darkness or death, he will be with me. I will not be alone. I will be accompanied by One who is the Resurrection and the Life. That is what Christ's death does to the powers of darkness (I Cor. 2:6, 15:24). They are still in existence, but have been deprived of all authority. We call this our victory over the terrors of death.

Death, when its sting is drawn and its powerful fears are rendered harmless, is but the means of our awakening on the morning of a new day in the presence of God. Despite all its power to terrify and bring us into bondage, death for the Christian whose faith is firmly fixed on Christ is but a sleep. It is, says Paul, a matter of the ship releasing its moorings, 'departing' from where our souls have been anchored in this world (Phil. 1:23), entering into the endless sea of Christ's nearer presence.

How then does the Christian view death? He learns to see it in its proper perspective. He does not lightly and superficially dismiss it. Nor does he allow his life to be paralysed by the fear of it. He recognises that death is an enemy, but he rejoices in the assurance that not even death can separate him from the love of Christ (Rom. 8:38)... and although it may touch him, it cannot harm him.

Both Chelsa and I feel fairly confident that our Grandmothers are with Jesus now, but we still miss them. There are still those conversations left unsaid where we wish that we had asked more about the deep parts of their lives, their relationships with Jesus, and what they anticipate will come next. It leaves us to wrestle with how and when and whether to have those conversations with the people we love who are still here. It still leaves us with questions of when death will come, why we must go through suffering, and how to best hold on to the memories of people we loved so much without dwelling in the sadness of their absence.

The great issues of our relationship with Jesus cannot wait until the angel of death approaches. For men usually die as they have lived. What we need to understand is that the habit of living at a low level devotion to our Lord IS a habit. It is neither easily broken at will, nor can its effects be readily repaired. Preparation for the last day of Christian experience really begins on its first day.

Sincair Ferguson seems to have a knack for that sweet spot of where the theoretical / conceptual parts of theology really meet the practical -- where the rubber meets the road. He gives us some practical habits, if you will, to consider...

We must set our hearts on Christ and the glory of his presence.

We must remember the many blessings of the world to come.

We must learn to live now in the knowledge that this world is temporal.

Life has felt very heavy for the past few months... heck, the past few years. I believe that the Lord prepared Chelsa and I for all of this however... while we have felt worn down, sad, angry, a mess, and more... we have never felt despairing or alone. We know that Jesus is available to us, to listen, that He's sees us, that He is speaking to us through his Word (the Bible) and his People.. though I would love to just have him come down for a beer with me and speak a little more audibly and directly to my questions, that's just not typically how he operates.

There are SOOO many people that love Chelsa and I. If you're reading this, you're likely one of them. It has meant so much to us to be loved so well, to have people reach out with words of encouragement, food, money, friendship, cat-sitting, and lots of prayers. We also recognize that many people who love us are still pretty unsure of their faith, disagree with our beliefs, or are mad at God and have outright rejected him. I hope that all this writing I did today is not just therapeutic for me and a little bit of an update regarding what's going on with us (a more fact-based update is coming soon--I promise), but that it will also serve as an invitation to talk for any of our loved ones who want to know more about the source of our hope and assurance. I'll close with this quote from Sincair's book that I took much of this from (The Christian Life):