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S. A. J. Lyttek, a multiple award-winning writer, always loved writing, but didn’t arrive at the profession in the typical manner. After college and graduate school, she plunged into government consulting. In this environment, she discovered a knack for writing tests, interviews and other measurements. That soon became the focus of her career—reigniting her love for the written word. Thus captivated, she spent evenings freelancing “fun” writing including short stories, poems, articles and cards. When her eldest was a toddler, she quit full-time work to stay home and write. Eager to spend more time with her children, homeschooling intrigued her. From preschool through high school, she homeschooled both sons while continuing to freelance. While an integral part of the homeschooling community, she developed and taught writing classes to a generation of homeschoolers. Married to her childhood sweetheart, Gary, Mrs. Lyttek loves to share her commitment to learners of all ages and her fascination with the written word.
The day I’m posting this piece marks eight years since my mother passed away. Eight years. It both feels infinitely longer and just yesterday. I still can’t believe her presence is not upon this spinning globe.
Since her last words to me were, “I just want to be with Jesus,” I trust she’s in His presence right now. And while the sting of her loss has ebbed, there’s still a hole in my day to day where she should be.
This week I’ve been transcribing a little play that she and her sister Nancy wrote sometime in the late forties. I deduce that because Nancy was in high school, but it doesn’t say Mom was. It was written in neat cursive in pencil and is faded quite a bit. Sometimes I have to train my phone’s flashlight on it to make out a word or two. Their play, a retelling of Cinderella, exudes with youthful hopefulness. You can tell they both had lovely dreams about what their future might become. And no clue of the hardships in store, especially for Nancy.
Feeling their aspirations and creativity up close has made me miss Mom a bit more this week. I can’t ask her what they did with the play, if anything, or why they decided to write it. I can imagine the two of them on the porch if nice weather or tucked in their room, if not, heads leaned together, pondering the page and who would do what next. One thing that intrigued me was their erasure of the Fairy Godmother as a character. Why did they initially think she should be included in their “modernized” version and then take her out before they finished the second page? I also found it interesting that they scratched out deletions instead of erasing them. If they had erased them, I never would have known that the Fairy Godmother had even been considered!
Because of this activity, because of the anniversary, because of the weather, because of pain, and more, grief has resurfaced. It does that. It’s never a one and done emotion. It comes back in cycles.
This world, because of the fall, has many griefs. Beyond losing someone or something we love (thinking pets on that second half), we can lose seasons or lament the lack of a keepsake that had value to us. We can grieve changing relationships, aging bodies, or failed dreams. Thankfully, we have a savior who understands all that.
He was despised and rejected by men,
a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief;
and as one from whom men hide their faces
he was despised, and we esteemed him not. (Isaiah 53:3, ESV)
Because Scripture mentions the joy Jesus experienced, I imagine he laughed. The Bible never says that directly though. It does explicitly tell us that he cried.
There’s something about having a friend who weeps with us. As long as Job’s friends sat and mourned with him, they were acting in a godly manner. It was when they began to try and imagine God’s reasons for allowing the suffering into Job’s life that they messed up. We’re nowhere close enough on the cosmic, mental, logical or any other scale to God to understand Him. We are creations, after all! Trying to analyze the mind of our Creator is foolishness.
But through his tears, through his shared grief at our predicament, we can get to know Him.
The next verse in Isaiah goes on to say:
Surely he has borne our griefs
and carried our sorrows;
yet we esteemed him stricken,
smitten by God, and afflicted.
When grief descends, looking to the cross reminds us that sorrow has an end date. Jesus’ immense love declared it is finished. And one day, we will live in His perfect world where tears will be no more.
Beginning next week, I will step away from the -ing posts for a while and do a series about my favorite story themes and why I write tales with those messages. And, of course, there will be some prizes!