A Lesson in Puzzles

Laura and Jon, May 2024

 

My sister has gone to be with Jesus.  I miss her already.

 

From the very start, Laura’s life was a puzzle—a carefully crafted puzzle, guaranteed by the Maker to be beautiful.  There was no picture on the box for this puzzle, though, just a mystery to be revealed one piece at a time.

 

And I suppose that analogy could describe the life of any child of God.  But it seems especially true of Laura who, fittingly, loved jigsaw puzzles.  

 

Slow-paced, tedious activities were her thing.  She liked sticker books, color-by-number pages, and word searches.  But she loved puzzles the best.  She spent countless hours snapping together edge pieces, sorting colors, testing a connection, turning a piece, testing it again, until one by one the pieces came together to form the picture.  Maybe it was the scenery of a farmstead, or a picture of colorful ocean life, or maybe it was a beloved movie character.  She took her time and loved putting each piece in place.  It was as if Laura were acting out a parable, a lesson in patience, perseverance, and faith—trust that it would come together, trust that it would be beautiful, trust that it would be worth the effort.

 

I heard that when Laura was born, my grandma knew something about her was different.  Something wasn’t quite right.  The set of her eyes, and the shape and size of her head wasn’t typical.  She didn’t walk until she was two years old, around the same time that one piece of the mystery snapped into place.  Her condition was assigned a label: Prader-Willi Syndrome.  

 

That was hardly an answer itself, though, because along with the diagnosis came many other mysteries: how to manage her development, how to handle the tantrums, how much could she learn, what physical challenges would she have, what would school be like for her, would other kids be mean, would she have friends, could she work, what would adult life look like if she would even live into adulthood?—and on and on.  Laura’s parents and siblings would learn that lesson of patience, perseverance, and faith—trust that the puzzle would come together, trust in God’s goodness, God’s grace, God’s strength, and the peace that passes understanding.

 

It was easy to love Laura.  She was a sweetheart.  She was two years older than me, but her developmental delays made us the same size for a few years when we were young.  My mom sometimes referred to us as “the Bobbsey twins”.

Laura, Beckie, and Jon.  Laura and I were the same height for a few years.

Even though it was easy to love Laura, you should know that there were significant challenges to caring for her.

 

The fact that she was always hungry was one of the greatest hardships.  As a baby she was always awake, always wanting to eat.  When she was a bit older, she learned to be sneaky and take food, or money to buy food.  We learned what to listen for, though, when she was eating something she wasn’t supposed to have.  We heard her nonchalantly snapping her fingers and clapping her hands as if she were thinking of a happy little song and there was nothing at all amiss, nothing wrong, and she was as innocent as she could be.  That’s when it was time to investigate what she ate.

 

We had to lock the freezer, ration portions, and keep an eye on the pantry.  I remember one time my mother holding her and crying—and I hardly ever saw my mom cry.  Mom was overcome with grief because Laura had gotten into the fridge and eaten way, way too much.  Imagine wanting wellness for someone who would literally eat herself to death if she could.  What a challenge.

 

She was also very emotional.  She had her moments in adulthood too, but it was worse when she was younger.  I remember one time Laura locked herself in the bathroom of a medical office in a dramatic temper tantrum because she didn’t want to get shots.  Her mood swings, her irrational fears, and her self-centered focus were hard to manage at times.  Imagine wanting to care for someone who is constantly, actively resisting.  What a challenge.

 

Those are only two examples of numerous challenges.  Loving Laura came with some hardships.  But that’s not something unique to her.  Maybe her challenges looked different than ours, or were more obvious or dramatic, but we all have those same difficult puzzle pieces—an insatiable appetite for all the things of this world, a selfish desire for everything that benefits me, a mood, a will, a tantrum, a desire that is by nature actively opposed to God, his design, his Law.  Though everything God wants for us is good, and everything God teaches us is good, we resist.

 

Our condition is a lot like Laura’s.  And it started before birth too.

 

And yet God is good to us, just as he was so, so good to Laura.  There were challenges to loving Laura, caring for her, raising her, teaching her.  But in another way, it was easy to want do all that because she was created beautiful by God, and was a baptized, faithful child of God who lived in love toward all.  She was a special blessing to her family and friends.

 

As each puzzle piece of her life snapped into place, we saw how beautiful God’s masterpiece was.  

 

She was a loving daughter who adored her parents, and they blessed her as they worked hard to care for her from first breath to final breath, from first life at conception to her eternal life with Jesus.  They figured out each challenge and every puzzle piece in turn, laboring tirelessly and lovingly to make sure Laura had what all her other siblings had: love, faith formation, education, health and wellness, vacations, friends, and a way to launch into adulthood.  She was blessed to have them as parents.  And they were blessed to have her.

 

And she was such a wonderful sister.  She loved us so much.  And we loved her.  From her we learned that everyone is different, that we all have limitations, that everyone is worthy of respect, patience, and love, and that we do well when we pay attention to the helpless, the weak, and the needy, because they have so much to offer the world.  We are better because of her.  We love deeper because of her.

 

And she was a good friend to so many at church and at her group home.  It was a difficult decision for my parents to send her to the Prader-Willi Homes, but it was absolutely the right thing to do.  It was an important piece in the puzzle of her life, and when it fell into place, so many other pieces of life connected. 

 

She had good friends, and was a good friend.  She had a job, and was proud of her hard work, and was always happy to get a paycheck.  And she would get mad when she thought her paycheck was too low!  She loved her caretakers and fellow residents at Prader-Willi Homes, and was greatly blessed there even as she was such a blessing.  (From the bottom of our hearts, thank you to all who cared for her).  There in her group home and in that community she could shine her Gospel light with kind words and actions.  There she could be her own person, live her life, and thrive.

 

We will all miss her quick wit, her sassy z-snaps, her board game trash talk, her laugh, her love for animals, and nature, and princess movies, and music, and more.  How can you list all the wonderful and adorable things about her?  You can’t.  These are memories that fill us with love, longing, and a profound sense of loss.

 

Some parts of the puzzle were terrible, like the discovery of her brain tumor.  It turns out it was there all along, and it caused her syndrome, a version of Prader-Willi called “acquired” rather than the typical genetic kind.  She had brain surgeries, and seizures, and troubles with eyesight, right-sided weakness, and many other troubles because of it.  What a sad hardship.

But there were other beautiful pieces.  One very beautiful piece of the puzzle we can’t ignore is her 18-year relationship with the love of her life Adam Christman.  Adam was a wonderful man who was so kind and good to her, and she to him.  Their love was pure and wholesome.  It was always warm.  It was always beautiful.  That these two beautiful people, with all their obvious and difficult limitations, would love each other so unconditionally and so purely is a deep and meaningful lesson for us.  It may not have been meant to be for them to be married, but their relationship founded on Christ, his unconditional love, and his forgiveness is a great example for every married couple.

Laura and Adam, December 2020

 

She was heartbroken when Adam preceded her in death.  We all tried to cheer her up, but the grief was always there.  The only thing we could do was try to redirect her attention so she wouldn’t fixate on it.  That took some time.  And in the end, knowing that Adam was there helped her look forward to heaven.

 

None of us want to dwell on the reality of death.  And yet, in a time of loss, we can’t ignore the horror.  Death is awful.  Terrible.  God created all things good, even perfect.  And yet, in this fallen world, we see on display every single day the truth that Scripture proclaims: The wages of sin is death.

 

It’s why Laura was born with the troubles she had.  It’s why all of us have so much grief and groaning, so many troubles and temptations, so many sins and struggles, so many fears and failures.

 

It’s why we lose our loved ones.  It’s why we lose ourselves, and we wander lost.  It’s why all this stuff we accumulate is only temporary, and some day all of it will be taken from us, or we will be taken from it.  It’s why my family is mourning now.

 

It’s a hard thing to see someone you love dearly decline because of old age or illness.  When they can’t do what they used to do, when they can’t do what they love to do, when they can’t even take care of their own daily, bodily needs, it crushes us.  Many people spent Laura’s entire lifetime making sure she didn’t eat too much.  It was a sad turn when she lost her appetite, and our hope was that she would eat something, anything, so she would stay with us here a little longer.  Maybe we could have another movie night, maybe another afternoon of games, maybe we could hold onto her a little longer.

 

Death is cruel.  

 

But there is something even crueler, someone even more brutal—not against us, but against Death itself.  He is so hungry He swallows up death.  So powerful that He breaks open the grave.  So full of vigor and vitality that He has power to live forever and grant everlasting life to all who believe in him.

 

And His love is pure.  I hope you know who I’m talking about.  He is the love of Laura’s life.  You see, in this life, Laura knew the love of a good man, Adam Christman.  But what’s even greater is that Laura also knew the love of the “second Adam,” the Christ-man.  And we who are God’s people also know this true love of the perfect man, who is also truly God—Jesus, the Christ.

 

He preceded us in death, and preceded us in the resurrection in order to be our Resurrection and Life.  

 

“⁴⁵ Thus it is written, “The first man Adam became a living being”; the last Adam became a life-giving spirit…⁴⁷ The first man was from the earth, a man of dust; the second man is from heaven. ⁴⁸ As was the man of dust, so also are those who are of the dust, and as is the man of heaven, so also are those who are of heaven. ⁴⁹ Just as we have borne the image of the man of dust, we shall also bear the image of the man of heaven.” (1 Corinthians 15:45, 47-49).

 

And so it is that we who are baptized in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit are children of God and have a place in God’s family as a gift of His love.  We bear the image of Christ, our brother.  And we who, like the dedicated solver of a jigsaw puzzle, learn by the grace of God patience, perseverance, and faith, are heirs of everlasting life.  

 

Jesus’ death on the cross has defeated our death.  His rising from the grave is the power of our life now and forever.  Even when our mortal flesh fails and our bodies die, our souls live on with Christ in paradise.  I know Laura no longer suffers from the brain tumor, or Prader-Willi, or all frailty she felt in this life.  Those who fall asleep in Jesus, rest in peace.  That’s a promise for you and me too.

 

And someday even this diseased and decaying flesh will be raised, whole and holy, perfect and incorruptible.  You will be you, and I will be me, and Laura will be Laura, but (as Laura used to say) "it’s the same, only different."  You, but perfect.  Me, but glorified.  Laura, but healthy, and vibrant, and joyful, body and soul, with Jesus and His saints, with the angels in the New Heavens and New Earth forever.  And I can’t wait to hug her again.

 

There will be no more sin, no more sorrow, no more disease, no more death.  And there the tears are wiped away from all faces.  There only love and life remain.  There we will snap and clap, sing and laugh.  And it wouldn’t surprise me if we’ll get to play basketball or go bowling with Laura again (just as she loved her Special Olympics competitions here).

 

Or maybe we’ll be able to challenge her to a game of Qwirkle, or Play Nine.  You better bring your best game, though, because she won’t go easy on you.  She’ll have her game face on.

 

Jesus promises us life and resurrection, the New Heavens and New Earth.  And because of this promise, we who are learning one piece at a time what is God’s masterplan for our lives can trust it will come together, trust that it will be beautiful, trust that it will be worth the effort.  We can trust in God’s goodness, trust in God’s grace, trust in God’s strength.  And as we walk in his ways, and as we long for the reunion of heaven, we can possess the peace that passes understanding which is ours through Jesus Christ, our Lord.

 

Laura, we love you.  We miss you already.  We will see you again.  Until then, we’ll take with us the lessons you taught us and your love that shaped us.

 

Dear Jesus:

 

Let my near and dear ones be
Always near and dear to Thee;
O bring me and all I love
To Thy happy home above.

(LSB 887:3, Public Domain)

 

-   Jon

 

truth + love

 

You can read my sister’s obituary here.

Nicole, Laura, and Jon, May 2024