The story really starts about 4 1/2 years ago, when we discovered a malignant tumor in Benjamin's knee. As we moved to Singapore to begin treatment, Benjamin and I simultaneously traveled closer to our Savior; he in a physical way as well as a spiritual way. Benjamin's life battle made my faith real in ways it never was before that moment.
The story progresses as he went from battle to remission to battle, to remission again and then back to battle. We moved from Singapore back to Indonesia, and then back to the States. The possible end result of his battle never truly became probable to the rest of us until fall of 2012, when the cancer was discovered to have leaped into his lungs. We all knew then that his fight was getting harder and probably impossible to win, but we still kept hoping and praying. This last summer he steadily got worse. The tumors in his thigh grew till it looked as if he had shoved three footballs into his leg; and his entire right lung quit functioning. The rest of his muscles atrophied till they were almost invisible. We knew that the end of his battle was inevitable, but I don't think any of us wanted to believe it would be so soon.
While I was at camp in July, I heard a song...a song I had heard before but that only came alive to me that night. Whatever may pass, and whatever lies before me; Let me be singing when the evening comes (Ten Thousand Reasons by Matt Redman). I asked myself, would I be singing when the time came to say goodbye to my best friend and sibling? Would I be able to Bless the Lord, O my soul? I didn't know the answer until August 25, 2013. But that's still ahead of me at this point.
I struggled with the decision of whether or not to come to Bible college. I couldn't be sure to ever see him again if I did, but, at the same time, I could be missing out on a tremendous personal growing experience while being a testimony to others if I didn't. I found my strength in the Lord and left on Saturday, August 17. It would be the last day I would ever see Benjamin conscious in his earthly body. I said goodbye that day, leaving him a card in which I explained all my reasons for going. I know he didn't really want me to leave. I gave him a hug, telling him that I would be home before he knew it. All he replied was "I hope so." Little did we know that he would home before he knew it. I barely made it out of the house before the tears came. I'm pretty sure I cried for several hours straight, all the while being reminded (by music) that God is sovereign, He is faithful, and He is love. I still have a peace that I did the right thing by leaving...but it doesn't take away the pain of actually doing it. I met some amazing people at college. Barely knowing me, they supported me in ways that only I know how much it truly meant. One of them, the sweetest girl who means the world to me now, stayed up late with me the night I was waiting for news...that fateful Friday night.
Benjamin started coughing that Friday night (the 23rd), and had to be taken to the hospital because he couldn't breathe. Put on machines, he struggled for every breath he took. My church was so supportive during that time. They drove down to get my sister from her college, and they paid for my plane ticket home after arranging everything else as well. All the while they kept my family going through prayer.
I left my classmates on Saturday morning, driving the two hours back to the campus (we were at a retreat for the weekend). On the drive, I got a call from Daddy, basically asking me to say goodbye to him cause he was on his way home. I started bawling. I managed to tell him that I loved him, and to give Jesus a hug for me. Daddy then requested that I tell Benjamin it was ok to stop fighting. (I was the only family member not there.) I fought with myself then. I literally struggled with my own heart. Was it ok for him to stop fighting? Could I honestly tell him that and believe it myself? I stared out the window, practically screaming at God from inside. I didn't want to let him go. But I knew I had to. Finally, I surrendered my selfishness to the Lord and asked Him for the strength to let go. He graciously gave it to me, and I did as my daddy had asked. I told my brother it was alright with me if he went home before I got there. It was the hardest war I ever fought, though it took only a moment or two of time.
I prayed constantly on the flights home, begging God to let him stay until I got there, even while promising to still trust Him if He took Benjamin home instead. I arrived at the hospital at 3am Sunday morning, watching over him for the next 3 hours while my tired family got some sleep. I held his hand, watched him fight for breath, and began praying that the Lord would take him sooner rather than later cause it was just so painful to see him like that. He had tubes all over his body and was surrounded by machines. I kept remembering him as he was the day before I left, all smiles and jokes and alive.
Eventually, he began waking up from the sedation. We had decided, as a family, to let him wake up, tell him what we were going to do, and then have the doctor take the breathing tube out. We wanted him to be comfortable for however long God gave him.
I watched the sun rise that morning with new eyes. Somehow it seemed more peaceful than any other sunrise I have ever seen. It seemed to speak to me, reminding me that God is true when He said, "My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness."
Between 10 and 10:30 that morning, Benjamin opened his eyes several times; but I'm not sure he ever really saw anything out of them. He stared at me for a few minutes, but I don't know if he actually saw me...though I'm one hundred percent positive that he knew I was there. Daddy talked to him, telling him what was about to happen and that I had finally gotten there too. He told him that his whole family was there with him, that we loved him, and that it was time to stop fighting the war which had been his life for five years. I watched my father lead his eldest son to the gates of heaven and place his hand into the hands of his heavenly Father. Before the nurses even had a chance to take the tube out, my brother squeezed my hand several times, and looking towards the ceiling (but not at the ceiling), he leaped forward into heaven as enthusiastically as he did everything else. We never had to pull life support. God took him as soon as we took the step, in faith, to place him fully into the Lord's hands. It's funny how I could feel him leave his body...I felt the life leave his hand and I'm pretty sure my mommy felt the very same thing holding his other hand. We knew the moment he was gone, and do you know the first word I thought? I still can't figure out why exactly...but my first thought was thank you. And that's all I could think for several minutes while my heart drained out through my eyes.
There's a billion stories I could tell of Benjamin. He lived life to its fullest and enjoyed every second of it. But I think I needed to tell this particular story for it is the culmination of that life. God did answer our prayers, exactly how we prayed them. We asked for his healing; God healed him from the ultimate disease, sin. His story isn't over yet though. It lives on in the hearts of his family and his friends.
He turned 16 last Sunday, the 17th. I asked our worship leader to play "Ten Thousand Reasons". Why? I knew it would make me cry but I needed to be reminded of God's sovereignty in a way only that particular song can do. What I wasn't expecting though was the song that followed: Because He Lives. Because He lives, I can face tomorrow...because my Savior is living, I can face the rest of my life, however long or short it may be, waiting to see my brother again. Because He lives, my brother still lives, and I will live to see them both someday.
And that's what I'm thankful for this Thanksgiving. I'm thankful for the people who supported us and who still support us in prayer, I'm thankful for the time I had with my brother, and for what I learned through his ordeal. I'm thankful that we have the God we have and that He's not any other God. I am thankful for so many things, I can't even name them all! Granted, it doesn't make celebrating the holiday any easier, nor will it make the 4 month anniversary of Benjamin's death on Christmas Day any easier. It won't make going home to a house void of the presence of my brother any easier, nor will it magically heal the pain of missing him. But part of healing is accepting that the pain is inevitable; and that, ultimately, it is a gift from God, refining us as His children. Yes, the emotional pain in my heart is so terrible sometimes that it even hurts physically. But it's nothing to what Christ endured on the cross to bring me the peace that I simultaneously have: the peace that passes understanding, the peace that lifts you up on wings of eagles when you have lost all hope. That peace is the peace filling me now, after memories have escaped through my fingers and rolled down my cheeks. It's a peace that only comes after hurting, like a promise from God. Remember, rainbows only appear after it has rained.
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