Goodbye My Hero, My Friend

Mark Woods (January 19, 1953 – May 30, 2008)

“In love’s service only wounded soldiers can serve”

– Thorton Wilder

As some of you know, my beloved mentor and friend Mark Woods took his life May 30 in the evening. He left notes for his daughters, wife, and best friend.

I met Mark almost two years ago. I wasn’t going to go and see him but Tom Nelson had recommended him as he had helped him through his depression and so reluctantly I sent Mark an e mail. I don’t normally do this because. I’m not very what’s the word, charismatic? but I sent the e mail and said a silent prayer as though defiant.
Lord, he has to call right away or I don’t think I will go and meet with him.

Thirty seconds later the phone rang.

“Natalie. This is Mark Woods. Natalie, I’m never on the computer, and even if I am I never return phone calls but I felt the need to”

Hmmm.

Okay. I’ll meet with him. Once.

I sat down in his office and looked up and my stomach sank. My favorite book by Henri Nouwen is the Prodigal Son. On the cover it has the famous portrait.

On Mark’s wall hung the portrait, large, and framed.

Ok, God.

When Mark spoke it was as though he knew me. He told me he didn’t want to charge me – he felt led to do this. He saw me three times a week.

They were blessed times. Times of laughter, of tears, of learning, asking.

Mark listened like no other. He laughed and cursed and loved the Lord. He loved people. He loved his daughters. And somehow he loved me.

When I learned of his death I didn’t want to believe it. I called Tom Nelson (bless his heart I was in Seattle and forgot it was two hours later in Dallas). Is it true? “Yes.”

“How”? “He hung himself”

Sobbing. No. It can’t be. He wouldn’t do that. He had struggled years ago with it but told me life was worth living – no! No! I don’t believe it. I’m supposed to see him this week! No! He loved God! God couldn’t leave him! No!

I hung up the phone….Tom said “Natalie, take his wisdom and remember at the end of the day he is fallen.”

I just wanted to run. And so I did. I ran. I ran down near the water. I screamed and sobbed. Not Mark. Not Mark. Whatever the reason, Mark knew God could redeem it. Not Mark. Oh God, no! This cannot be the end of Your faithful servant. If he can’t make it, how can I?

God, was He scared? God, is He okay now? God, did he feel pain?

The funeral. . I sat down next to a woman who untimely said “Oh, if only he had taken his own advice.” I wanted to scream at her. Instead, I bit my tongue and tears poured forth.

One of his friends spoke that we must embrace the idea that we cannot know what happened with him, but we must grieve well, letting go of an answer.

It was said that God identifies with feelings of distress, despair, fear and terror.

Mark was a Wounded Healer.

There was a video of him and his children, goofy pictures, sweet ones. The last one was him on a hill, his back to us, with his arm around his wife and the words “We’ll see you soon Mark”. His daughter than sang the most powerful version I’d ever heard of “My Redeemer Lives”. We all stood. We cried.
I spoke with his daughter after. I fell in her arms and she said “Are you ok?” What? I thought……are YOU okay is what should be said…..however she held me just like her dad would have and whispered in my ear “He will get us through this. He will get us through this.”

And so in closing,

Mark, now in Heaven with the Lord you loved…..I hope you are smiling a lot. I hope all of your tears have been wiped away……and yes, we will see you soon.

Oh, and Mark….thank you. Thank you. I love you.
In one of Chris Rice's songs "Come to Jesus" it ends with this verse. I'll always think of you Mark.
"And with your final heartbeat, kiss the world goodbye. And go in peace and laugh on glory's side. And run to Jesus. Run to Jesus. Run to Jesus and live...."

Mercy and Grace

"You knit me together.....I am fearfully and wonderfully made" Ps. 139

Well, after reading my friends blogs and being so blessed and encouraged by others – even people I don’t know - ones that I’ve found through the Village Church, etc. I have been so blessed and encouraged by people’s candidness about their walk with the Lord. The joy, the pain of daily life.

At first I didn’t want a blog because I thought – well, it’s just me and Annie. Are we a family? I’m a single mom. I didn’t want those that don't know me e to think things about me that weren’t true. I want to tell the story of how I got pregnant, how Annie came into my life. I want to defend, have everyone understand the details, it wasn’t all my fault, well, yes, I did make that mistake, but...let me explain.... this happened, that happened. I didn't want presumptions, stimgas....

But I decided it’s not important. Those closest to me know the story and that’s all that matters. And God knows.

For awhile while I when was pregnant, especially towards the end where one feels as though they have metamorphasized into a new type of whale as I'd waddle to and fro, I felt as though I bore the Scarlett Letter. I would go to Starbucks and hide my hand…there’s no ring ( But wait, let me explain! I long to say…..um, I’m a Christian, um, I didn’t sleep around, um, um, um,….see, this one night....)

“When’s your baby due?”

“December”

“Are you excited”

“Oh, yes.”

( No! Scared to death, embarrassed, angry really, do you have an hour?) My best friend and I went to register. Anxiety attatcks. Fear.
"Yes, this is cute". (I'm ready to go.)
I didn't go to church. I couldn't face anyone. And so for a year I hid in shame, fear, despair, anger and confusion. And I grew......

And then she came. Bam.

After thirty six hours of hard labor and with no epidural ( they could not give me one for medical reasons…..I still want one….) a little girl, whom I had carried for nine months….with ten fingers, ten toes, beautiful blue eyes, and the most innocent little face I had ever seen came into my life.

(Really? Am I draming? She’s mine? I’m responsible for her? Um, God…?)

My family was there, my mom in the delivery room as I pushed her out – no time to call the Dr. They placed her on my chest and it was so chaotic I was simply relieved to be out of labor. I had done it. She was here. Ah.

Now what? (Um, God can You put her back in for a little while….I was kidding, I’m not ready)

But here she was. Swaddled. Innocent. Perfect.

And visitors came – Annie’s dad, my entire family, aunts, uncles, Michele, Nat, Josh P., and Lily, Meredith. We gushed over her and took pictures. And then everyone left.

And it was her and I.

There was no husband in the chair where the new dads sit. Her daddy wasn’t there to talk with me about who she looked like the most. And there was an emptiness.

(Unfair. God, this is not fair. Yes, she’s beautiful. Lord, let me love her. God, I’m terrified.) Tears.

We stayed for five days because Annie needed I.V. antibiotics.

When we arrived home with her, I was quick to pass her to my mom. I don’t know what to do. She was scaring me. At the very core of all of this was a deep rooted seed of fear that had blossomed…..and blossomed….I was heavy laden with fear. It penetrated my very being. So much that I couldn’t see past the - "what if’s" and "if only’s". So much that it robbed me just a bit of embracing my precious little girl. I didn't know something yet...

“Children are a blessing from the Lord” the Bible says. Yes, but what if you have no husband? Did I miss out God? Is this a punishment? But God, wasn’t I the “good one”? (Pride, Resenment)

The first three months I experienced a great deal of postpartum depression. But the scariest part for me was that I felt disconnected from my daughter. As though she were someone I babysat but her real mom would come and get her soon. And so I was guilt ridden. What’s wrong with me?

Oh God, please help me. Let me love my baby like I’m supposed to. And please don’t let anyone know how I feel.

I began going out at night….almost denying the fact that she was there. Confused and hurting. I was looking for a job, and honestly with a most horrid attitude. Though I wanted to work, I didn’t want to….I wanted to be married and stay at home. How will I provide for my daughter? I didn’t finish school. Job interview after job interview failed to produce anything.

Soon I began to pray. God above all else let me love my daughter. I want to love my daughter.
I knew I needed to be more actively involved.

I'll get up with her. I’ll feed her more, change her more, tickle her, make funny noises, read her books, watch Barney and sing and dance with her.

And one day I awoke and she had my heart. I suddenly didn’t want her to go down for a nap….I wanted her awake with me. I no longer desired to “escape” my reality and meet my friends for dinner. I wanted to be with my daughter. I started praying with her. “Dear Jesus…watch over us...take care of us” We’d sing Jesus Loves Me. She is the first person I want to see when I wake up. The one I want to see after work. Dinner? Um, I'm busy. Oh, you're getting together? Thanks for the invite but....

I love being able to comfort her when she’s upset. I love hearing her laugh, sing, watching her sleep. I have a crib in my room and since I started working I’ll often keep her in there with me. That way I’m right there the moment she awakes. And somehow it helps me knowing she's there.

Work was hard at first , being away from her. The first week I worked forty six hours. I cried for I rarely saw her. The next week my hours were less and I was able to savor each moment.

Finally.

Finally I see. I see that in the life of Joseph, Isaac, his brothers – God used Joseph’s cockiness, his father’s idolatry for making Joseph first in his heart, his brothers envy. He used prison and had the tiniest detail not taken place all of Israel would have been lost.

And so it goes in our lives.....

Is God Soverieign? Yes. Does He use the evil to bring about His purposes? Just look at the Cross.

And, though I am by no means the mom or woman I desire to be there is much work to be done….I now see Annie as my precious little gift. I tell her God stamped her "extra special surprise delivery before He sent her down." And God saw fit to give her to me. To give her to Josh. Josh, Annie’s dad, is seeking the Lord, changing his life. He will be a great daddy something I wasn't always sure of.

Would I go through it again? Yes. In a moment. She is my littlest, greatest joy. Will there be hard times? Absolutely. Am I still afraid? Certainly. Do I still wrestle with comparison, fear, confusion? Of course. Are there bad days? Days where I am overwhelmed with the future? ("Do not wory about tommorrow....")

But one thing is for sure. God gave me an angel.

And so life, that I thought was over, is finally beginning……Annie's name in Hebrew means "gracious, and merciful". I am certain she will be this in my life and others....