Rachel D

Arms Open

We were sitting at lunch on our way home from my soccer tournament when we got the call. My mom picked up her phone and carefully listened to the caller on the other end. Her face was somber as she processed the news being delivered. As soon as she hung up the phone, I was overflowing with questions. Before I could ask anything, my mom simply looked at me and said, “We need to pray for Anna and Chandler.”

I was in the sixth grade at the time. It was Fall and I had just begun my middle school years. Not only was I in a new school, but I was now a part of the youth group at my church. There were seven different grade levels of students in the youth, and I was just beginning to learn everyone’s names. Somehow, I recognized both Anna and Chandler when my mom delivered the news.

Anna and Chandler had gone 4-wheeling that morning and had been in an accident. They were both in the hospital at the time. There wasn’t much we could do since we were out of town, but we could pray, so that’s what we did. The drive home was a small distraction, but Anna and Chandler were still in the back of my mind. We didn’t have any details which caused my mind to imagine numerous possibilities of what exactly happened. None were quite as horrific as what actually took place or the outcome of it all.

Soon after we arrived back in town, we made the drive to Carilion hospital. The lobby of the emergency room was filled with members from the church. Some were younger than me and even more were older. People were huddled in groups with their heads bowed or their arms open in hopes of comforting one another.  There was an eerie silence to the group other than the few murmurs of prayer or words of encouragement. Seeing Anna in the waiting room was a huge relief, but Chandler was still nowhere to be found. Anna only had a few scratches, and she seemed fine other than the worried look and tears on her face. I remember the multitude of people nervously awaiting the news. When it finally came, the room was silent.

Chandler had hit his head on a post during the accident and was then immediately transported to the hospital by helicopter. He had been on life support ever since, but not anymore. The decision to take him off life support had just been made. As a result, he passed away. I was suddenly surrounded by people crying and embracing one another. Of course I felt terrible, but I shed no tears. I barely knew Chandler. However, it was much harder for other members of the youth who had known Chandler for years. The entire group in the waiting room joined hands and prayed. It was moving, and I could feel God uniting us at that moment. However, the death of Chandler still hung over our heads no matter how long or how much we prayed. We all needed a distraction.

The entire youth group that had been at the hospital decided to go to the Roanoke Star. People I had never spoken to before reached out and welcomed me to join them. We took pictures, laughed, and cherished each other’s company. It was the perfect opportunity for me to get to know the rest of the youth and be there to support them in this hard time. This tragic event somehow brought us all together. In the midst of the sorrow and loss there was a unique beauty that could only be because of God. When all our “fun” was over, it was time to go home.

I remember that night when I was curled up in bed and my mom came to say goodnight;  that’s when I broke. Tears began to pour out of my face for no apparent reason. “It’s okay. Chandler’s with God now,” my mom reassured me. I nodded my head, but knew inside that it wasn’t okay. This was the first time I had personally experienced death. Her attempts to reassure me couldn’t stop my tears. It was remarkable how much pain I felt for someone I barely knew.

Looking back, I see the simple beauty that God created in such a horrid event. At that  moment the entire church joined in the same suffering. We were one, and it was beautiful.