Marley & Me

I grew up watching the George C. Scott version of A Christmas Carol, henceforth, this image of Marley was branded on my young brain (and still kinda scares me to this day). If this is too much, please focus on Goofy as Marley.

Marley with his ironclad padlocks; his cumbersome ball and chains.

I also grew up listening to a select handful of vinyl records. We had the Rocky soundtrack, Willie Nelson, Roy Orbison, The Carpenters, Sesame Street Fever, Tchaikovsky’s Romeo and Juliet, and a few Mormon Tabernacle Choir Christmas albums. “O Holy Night” has long been my favorite Christmas song. At varying stages of my life, different lines have jumped out and meant more to me, but this is the line of late:

Chains shall he break

for the slave is our brother,

and in His name all oppression shall cease.

Though it is a Christmas song, this is an Easter line.

I just finished reading the Book of Mormon again. How I love that book; it’s like a weighted blanket for my nerves. Something that stuck out to me this time was all the ways people are in bondage, no doubt from the year on a short leash we’ve all endured. Beyond the usual shackles—bad habits or addiction, consequences from sin or poor choices, false ideals, and tyranny—so many of us are in bondage to sorrow. 

If there was ever a couple that could have been wrapped “Marley-style” in chains of sorrow, it was my parents.

Just over 49 years ago, early in the morning on December 14, 1971, my parents lost their first pregnancy: identical twin boys stillborn at 6 months. Times were different then—and I can’t even fathom this—but my mom never saw her babies. My dad walked to the lab and asked if he could see them. He was met with resistance for doing so (he wasn’t even allowed in the delivery room) but was eventually granted his wish. In the words of my dad, “They were perfectly formed, small, and had hair.” The hospital sent my parents home that evening “so mom wouldn’t hear the cries of new babies all night”. To add insult to injury, my dad was in the midst of finals. Immutable, ridiculous college finals.

It seems nonsensical, if not impossible, that Dad had to leave Mom to fill in the blanks with what must have been a very tired head and even more worn-out heart. Why is it the demands of life are occasionally ludicrous with their timing? I asked him how he did it. Typical of my dad, who has never been one to rue the past, he simply shrugged and said life has a way of plowing on, and you don’t really have a choice about it.

My mom’s aunt came to the rescue while dad wrapped up his semester. She bound mom’s chest and put her in warm showers when her milk came in. Mom curled up on the sofa with the white mutt, Snickers, and together they stared at the Charlie Brown Christmas tree the rest of December.

The reason I love this story is not because my parents were overwrought with sorrow; it is because they escaped the bondage of it.

Before being discharged from the hospital—baby-less and bleeding—they prayed together in their tiny room. Hugging each other, they cried their eyes and hearts out to God, and He sent the swift dove of peace. Later that night, back in their apartment, they prayed again and through a fleeting, sacred glimpse of the future, felt a repeat of peaceful assurance. It was all they needed. Sad, but not undone, they escaped grief’s suffocation and moved forward.

And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus. (Phillipians 4:7) I have a note that “keep” means “guard”.

It’s natural to want understanding—to why bad things happen, to long-asked questions, to tangles and speed bumps and instructions that don’t make sense—and God does give answers, but when He doesn’t, His peace surpasses having the answers understanding. Peace in Christ trumps everything else. I will always choose peace over understanding. I can't function without peace. I can function just fine without understanding.

I have never experienced a trial like what my parents went through. Still, there is equality in the testing*, and you don't know me—you don't wear my chains**. I know what it feels like to sit, stunned, as life unfolds in real time, sparks flying as heaviness is welded to my limbs. Is this really happening? What am I to do?

I do what I’ve always done. I turn to God.

Choosing to have faith in Christ hasn’t made me magically oblivious to the hardships of life; it has given me a perspective that can bear them. Relying on Christ has never blinded me from reality; it has helped me see through every tunnel to all the lighted ends. Befriending my Savior hasn’t made my life chain-free; but because of Him I can testify that chains He does break.

Images of Frank Finlay and Goofy from the internet. Chain image purchased from istockphoto.com.

My mom bled for three more months, ended up having a D&C after a new lobe was discovered, and didn’t conceive again for over two years. This is a classic photo of my mom finally pregnant with Suzette. Why I inherited my dad's bad knees but not his hamstrings or calves will forever irk me. Happily, my parents ended up with five healthy babies, and continued to own little dogs perfect for cuddling next to Christmas trees with for the next 46 years. RIP Snickers, Jingles, Dustmop, and Scampers! 

*  "Some are tested by poor health, some by a body that is deformed or homely. Others are tested by handsome and healthy bodies; some by the passion of youth; others by the erosions of age. Some suffer disappointment in marriage, family problems; others live in poverty and obscurity. Some (perhaps this is the hardest test) find ease and luxury. All are part of the test, and there is more equality in this testing than sometimes we suspect." -Elder Boyd K. Packer, "The Choice", 1980.

** lyric from "Boston" by Augustana