New Site!
Visit www.rememberbethany.com for the new location of her memorial site as well as updated information on the release of Sharon's book When You Walk Through The Fire.
Poem for Bethany
In Loving Memory of
Bethany Nicole Rivas
09/01/85 - 03/07/05
A million times we’ve needed you,
A million times we’ve cried.
If love alone could’ve saved you,
You never would have died.
In life we loved you dearly,
In death we love you still.
In our hearts you hold a place
No one else will ever fill.
It broke our hearts to lose you,
But you didn’t go alone.
Part of us went with you,
The day God took you home.
Although we loved you dearly,
We could not make you stay.
God broke our hearts to
Prove to us,
He only takes the best.
We’ll miss you
-Starbucks, Deli, Bakery
Letter To Friends After Funeral
Dear Friends and Family,
He said, “My name is David Powers. Do you remember me, Mrs. Rivas? I was the only teenage boy in the church you and Brother Rivas pastored in Lufkin, TX.”
I almost dropped the phone!!! I gasped... “David, it is so good to hear your voice!! Thank you for calling... but I just have to ask you... what made you call just now?”
He replied simply, “You tell me. I am a deputy sheriff in (some town in Texas) and I was driving down the highway when God said, “Call Pastor Clark.” I told him, “God, you know I lost track of them years ago. I don’t even know where they are living much less their phone number.” God said, “David, you’re in a patrol car with a computer. You have access to anyone’s files. Look it up.”
David said he told God he would do it as soon as he got back to the station. God said emphatically, “Do it now.” David continued, “Mrs. Rivas... God said it so forcefully that I pulled over and started looking up your number on my computer. Is anything wrong?? Why did God tell me to call you?”
I told him about Elise, her letter, and why I needed to find her. David said he had no idea where she lived or what her married name was but he could look up her father’s phone number on his computer. David gave it to me and then filled me in on his life, his walk with God, and how he was trying to be a good Christian husband and father from remembering Clark’s example in our home. I thanked him for calling then hung up and called Elise’s father to ask him for her address. He said he could give it to me but that Elise had just walked in the door and I could talk to her. (Now that’s precise timing!)
When she got on the phone we both broke down and cried. She said she had been feeling depressed that we didn’t write her and thought that if she didn’t hear from us by Christmas... either her letter hadn’t reached us or we hadn't forgiven her. We had a wonderful time talking and she specifically told me how she was now trying to be a good Christian wife and mother by following the examples she had learned form me years ago.
As I finished the story, and my devotional, I told our kids, “God gave me a wonderful Christmas gift this year. It’s more valuable than money, fame, or success. He had two people tell me that Dad and I made a difference in their life and that one day we would see them again in heaven. Then I closed by saying something very strange, I said, “If I am ever in a car accident and lying on the side of the road dying, the only thing that will matter to me is knowing that I will see all of my children in heaven some day. All dad and I want out of life is to see all of you saved and to know that we will be a family together in heaven forever. Then I finished by saying, “And if any of you are ever in a car accident and lying on the side of the road dying, remember you don’t need a preacher or an altar to get saved... God will forgive you right where you are. No matter what you’ve done... or how many times... you can always come Home. God will be waiting. And if you ever need to get a message to someone... tell God. He will do it.
Nine weeks later... as Bethany lay dying on the side of the road... I believe God may have brought back that Christmas devotional to her mind. And in those final moments she may ave asked Him to get a message to us.
He did. He wrote us a letter.
In closing, thank you again for your kindness to me and Clark during these past few months. We try to keep a “stiff upper lip” at work and around other people, but we want you to know that it means a lot to us when we can tell you really care. In this letter I’ve tried to let you know how we’re really doing. Nothing can soften the sting of death, but God’s grace is sufficient to get you through it. I hope the following pages of this booklet will show it.
Love,
Sharon
P.S. I cannot end this thank you note without also expressing our sincere appreciation to the Fisher family for comforting us during this tragedy. Our shared sorrow and loss has created a bond of friendship that will never be broken. We want to thank Candy and Denise, Virginia and Lora Ann, Phyllis and Ryan, and Kevin and Elsa for their constant love and support. Kevin, we want to especially thank you for your vigilance in keeping track of the legal proceedings and updating us. Our thanks to all of you for attending the memorial service at our church last month. It meant so much to have you sitting with us. I believe it would mean a lot to Bethany and Crystal to know we are comforting each other down here... until we can join them up there.
.
It has been almost 6 months since I kissed my daughter for the last time. I miss her every day. I still cry sometimes at night and each morning I must comprehend, again, that she is really gone. The grief is becoming less intense, but not the shock. I still can’t believe my daughter is dead. All I can say is this... the only way we survived was through the comfort and love poured out to us by all of you. I first want to thank our family members who spent hundreds of dollars and traveled thousands of miles to stand beside us, mourn with us, and comfort us. We could not have made it without your support. We also want to thank friends and neighbors and the members of Faith Family, New Life, and Colonial Church who helped with financial donations and bringing meals over to our home. We sincerely appreciated the many hours Pastor Rick put in on helping us with funeral arrangements, his wonderful message at the funeral, and for all the work our church did in serving the dinner after the funeral. We are deeply grateful to Pastor Basil for his meaningful graveside meditation and to Charlie for the warm memories he shared about Bethany. We want to also express gratitude to the Deli Department of Clermont Target for providing food to feed over 300 people. The flowers and plants everyone sent were beautiful and the many cards touched us deeply. Clark and I especially want to thank our places of employment, Charles M. Clark and Sundance Manufacturing, for their tremendous emotional support, extended time off, and generous financial help. I want to particularly thank the owner of Sundance, Ray Toot, and the other employees of Sundance who were there for me like family. Many of them dropped by after work or called each day. The thing I was most dreading was being “alone” at the funeral. I am an only child and my father is deceased. My mother is in a nursing home 2000 miles away and even though many of Clark’s relatives were coming, I thought I was going to have to face burying my daughter without any of my family present. When I mentioned this to Ray and Paula they immediately said, “We are your family.” The entire Sundance office came to the funeral and sat on the front rows. I cannot possibly tell you how much this gave me emotional strength and support. Thank you for being there for us. We really did feel your prayers.
Many of you have since asked us how we are doing (or I’m sure are wondering but are afraid to bring up such a painful subject.) The work place does not lend itself to talking deeply about how we are really doing or what we went through... or how God is helping us to heal. I have put together this Memorial Booklet to honor Bethany’s memory on what would have been her 20th Birthday, as well as share the answers to some of those questions. In the following pages I have included thoughts from others and letters that tell you about Bethany’s life... and death... and the miracles involved in both. You will be amazed by some of the things you read. I cannot explain them, only relate them to you as fact. There is a Bible story where Job says about God, “I had heard about you with my ears, now I have seen you with my eyes.” I have been a Christian most of my life. I had heard about miracles and even experienced some while in the ministry, but nothing has compared to the volume that we experienced just before, during, and after Bethany’s death. In fact, I am unable to relate them all because of the shear volume. It would take a book to do so. They are so numerous and so astounding that I think most pople would have a hard time believing them. The truth is, during this time of suffering Clark and I have noticed that when pain came crashing in on us, suddenly a song on the radio, a sermon on TV, or someone calling out of the blue was exactly what we needed. Even in moments when we were fighting doubt or asking God questions, within minutes a preacher on the TV or radio would state the exact question we were thinking and then answer it. Sometimes God just answered us in our minds. Once I point blank said to Him, “God, I wish I had more faith about Bethany. Sometimes I wonder if she really made it through. If only you could tell me what exactly happened that night. I know you exist, but you’re a Spirit and I need concrete answers. If only you had hands and could write me a letter and answer my questions... then I would be at peace.” Instantly God replied, “I did. I told the lady minister that prayed with Bethany to write you a letter. Yes, Sharon, I am a Spirit... but I speak to people through thoughts and feelings... and I told her what to write. Didn’t you notice that she used the exact same words in her letter to tell you about praying with Bethany “till her last breath” as what you said to Me when you asked Me to send someone to pray with Bethany until her last breath? She said she felt her spirit leave and knew on a spiritual level that Bethany was with the Father. She said it was not by chance that she was sitting outside at 11:00pm that night or that she was the one who responded to Bethany’s needs. Those words she wrote are the ones I impressed upon her to say. I told her to tell you exactly what happened that night and answer every question I knew you would ask... and I told her it was imperative to get the letter to you immediately. She did. She drove one hour into Winter Garden and gave it to a florist so they could get the letter to your pastor and he could give it to you that same day. I DID write you a letter, Sharon... I just used her fingers to type it.”
I was shocked! I had never thought of it like that before. I’ve experienced miracles, but somehow the ones during my daughter’s death have been the most meaningful. I know He knew Bethany was going to die... not just because I heard Him emphatically tell me to stop doing the dishes and spend time with her that last night (as I talk about in my letter to Pastor Wright)... but because of many other circumstances. God basically told me at 10:00pm that night that Bethany was going to die, and I realize now (through all the other strange events) that He had been preparing me for weeks. I can never deny God’s existence. I don’t care what the atheists and scientists say, He has proven Himself real to me time after time. Even in losing my daughter, I have felt His love and care. And God was not only preparing me, He was preparing other family members as well. There are many examples, again I can not write about all them in here, but this is one. Clark’s brother and sister-in-law and 4 children had decided not to use their timeshare week in Orlando this spring so they posted their condo on the internet for rent. Since it is only minutes from Sea World it has always rented within hours. This time they did not have one bite! Weeks passed. They lowered their price but still had no takers. Not only were they shocked, they were actually upset with God for not helping them rent it. They couldn’t understand why He hadn’t helped them... until Clark called them about Bethany. Naturally they packed and left immediately to come to Orlando. I’m sure you know where they stayed during the funeral. It was their timeshare week and the condo was still empty. (They didn’t think they were going to use it this year... but God knew otherwise. In fact, He helped them keep it.)
Finally, as I have done much thinking over these past few months, I realize God was preparing Bethany, too. Every year since the children were born we have had a devotional on Christmas Eve, reading the story of Christ’s birth. This year Bethany had moved out and told us she wanted nothing more to do with God. To our surprise she called and said she and her boyfriend had decided to come to the Christmas Eve devotional after all. The next day I was reading a story in a devotional book. It was about Judas betraying Christ and how, instead of repenting when he felt remorse, he had gone out and hung himself. In contrast, Peter had denied Christ three times, but when he heard the rooster crow and felt remorse, he wept bitterly and repented. Both men betrayed Christ. Both felt guilt and shame... and both men went to a tree. Judas went to a tree in the woods, hung himself and was lost for eternity. Peter went to the old rugged cross, found forgiveness, and became one of the most powerful disciples in the Bible. The book said if only Judas had realized God would forgive him... he would have gone to the right tree.
As I closed the book God whispered clearly, “This is the devotional I want you to give on Christmas Eve.”
“What?!” I exclaimed, “We always read the Christmas story... about Your birth.”
“This one is for Bethany,” God said.
I obeyed. I told my family God had asked me to give a different devotional this year. I apologized for not reading the Christmas story. I apologized that my devotional had nothing to do with Christmas, except that the tree of Christmas eventually becomes the cross of Easter... for Christ was born in a manger solely to die later for our sins... so that we would not have to. I gave the devotional and I could see Bethany staring at me uncomfortably. I ended by telling them about a strange event that had just taken place a few days before. Months earlier I had received a letter from a girl who had been one of only two teenagers in the first little church Clark and I pastored in Lufkin, TX. Since there were only two, we took them under our wings and both of them had spent a lot of time in our home. It had been 15 years since I’d heard from her. She asked us to forgive her for some things she’d done and said to please write back and to pray for her. I immediately wrote but misplaced her letter with the address on it so I could never mail mine. I tore the house apart looking for her letter but never found it. It had now been six months and as Christmas drew near I felt an overwhelming burden to reach her. Since I could not remember where she’d moved to or her married name, the only thing I could think of was to find the other boy who’d been in the youth group and hope he knew. Occasionally he would write us... but he hadn’t done so in years. I began trying to find him but he’d gone into the military and no one seemed to know where he was. Heartbroken, I told my family how I had stood at the kitchen sink a few days earlier washing dishes and prayed, “God, please tell David to contact us. I know we’ve moved since the last time he wrote, but You can help him find us again. And please... help him to do it soon. It’s only a few days till Christmas and I need to find Elise.”
Exactly 15 minutes later the phone rang. I dried my hands and picked up the receiver. A man’s voice asked, “Is this the Clark Rivas residence?”
I said, “Yes... may I ask who’s calling? (I did not recognize the deep voice on the other end of the line.)
He said, “My name is David Powers. Do you remember me, Mrs. Rivas? I was the only teenage boy in the church you and Brother Rivas pastored in Lufkin, TX.”
I almost dropped the phone!!! I gasped... “David, it is so good to hear your voice!! Thank you for calling... but I just have to ask you... what made you call just now?”
He replied simply, “You tell me. I am a deputy sheriff in (some town in Texas) and I was driving down the highway when God said, “Call Pastor Clark.” I told him, “God, you know I lost track of them years ago. I don’t even know where they are living much less their phone number.” God said, “David, you’re in a patrol car with a computer. You have access to anyone’s files. Look it up.”
David said he told God he would do it as soon as he got back to the station. God said emphatically, “Do it now.” David continued, “Mrs. Rivas... God said it so forcefully that I pulled over and started looking up your number on my computer. Is anything wrong?? Why did God tell me to call you?”
I told him about Elise, her letter, and why I needed to find her. David said he had no idea where she lived or what her married name was but he could look up her father’s phone number on his computer. David gave it to me and then filled me in on his life, his walk with God, and how he was trying to be a good Christian husband and father from remembering Clark’s example in our home. I thanked him for calling then hung up and called Elise’s father to ask him for her address. He said he could give it to me but that Elise had just walked in the door and I could talk to her. (Now that’s precise timing!)
When she got on the phone we both broke down and cried. She said she had been feeling depressed that we didn’t write her and thought that if she didn’t hear from us by Christmas... either her letter hadn’t reached us or we hadn't forgiven her. We had a wonderful time talking and she specifically told me how she was now trying to be a good Christian wife and mother by following the examples she had learned form me years ago.
As I finished the story, and my devotional, I told our kids, “God gave me a wonderful Christmas gift this year. It’s more valuable than money, fame, or success. He had two people tell me that Dad and I made a difference in their life and that one day we would see them again in heaven. Then I closed by saying something very strange, I said, “If I am ever in a car accident and lying on the side of the road dying, the only thing that will matter to me is knowing that I will see all of my children in heaven some day. All dad and I want out of life is to see all of you saved and to know that we will be a family together in heaven forever. Then I finished by saying, “And if any of you are ever in a car accident and lying on the side of the road dying, remember you don’t need a preacher or an altar to get saved... God will forgive you right where you are. No matter what you’ve done... or how many times... you can always come Home. God will be waiting. And if you ever need to get a message to someone... tell God. He will do it.
Nine weeks later... as Bethany lay dying on the side of the road... I believe God may have brought back that Christmas devotional to her mind. And in those final moments she may ave asked Him to get a message to us.
He did. He wrote us a letter.
In closing, thank you again for your kindness to me and Clark during these past few months. We try to keep a “stiff upper lip” at work and around other people, but we want you to know that it means a lot to us when we can tell you really care. In this letter I’ve tried to let you know how we’re really doing. Nothing can soften the sting of death, but God’s grace is sufficient to get you through it. I hope the following pages of this booklet will show it.
Love,
Sharon
P.S. I cannot end this thank you note without also expressing our sincere appreciation to the Fisher family for comforting us during this tragedy. Our shared sorrow and loss has created a bond of friendship that will never be broken. We want to thank Candy and Denise, Virginia and Lora Ann, Phyllis and Ryan, and Kevin and Elsa for their constant love and support. Kevin, we want to especially thank you for your vigilance in keeping track of the legal proceedings and updating us. Our thanks to all of you for attending the memorial service at our church last month. It meant so much to have you sitting with us. I believe it would mean a lot to Bethany and Crystal to know we are comforting each other down here... until we can join them up there.
.
Mother's Letter To Bethany (placed on coffin)
March 11, 2005
Dear Bethany,
You can not fathom how much I love you or how much I am going to miss you. I will forever miss your smile, your laughter, your warm embraces and the way you always said, “I love you” before you hung up the phone.
Dear Bethany,
You can not fathom how much I love you or how much I am going to miss you. I will forever miss your smile, your laughter, your warm embraces and the way you always said, “I love you” before you hung up the phone.
I will miss sharing a mocha freeze with you at Borders, going to the mall, and putting up the Christmas tree together. I will miss planning the wedding we were going to do soon and helping you decorate the new apartment you were going to get. Most of all I will miss being with you when you had your first child, something every mother looks forward to. There will always be an ache in my hearrt and an empty chair at our Thanksgiving table.
Bethany, it’s true there were times you broke our hearts... but dad and I never stopped loving you, and we always forgave you before you asked... and if we as earthly parents have that kind of love, how much more does our heavenly father whose love and forgiveness knows no bounds, and whose grace “pours down like rain.” Because of His infinite mercy I have the hope of seeing you in Heaven. I no longer dread death Bethany, because I can not wait to see you again.
This is the last time I will tell you “Good night” sweetheart.
Love,
Mom
Sister's Letter To Bethany (read at funeral)
March 11, 2005
Dear Bethany,
I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I’m sick... so sick since you’re gone. If I only could tell you how much I love you, how sorry I am. I’m sorry you were taken so soon in a way like this. I’m sorry we won’t see each other get married or have babies. Nineteen years is too short, but you enjoyed life and inspired everyone who knew you to love as you loved, to laugh as you laughed (except maybe for the whole snort and lean to the left till you fell our of your chair thing). Your life should not be remembered by one fateful night, but by a fountain of joyful memories.
I walked the labyrinth at the funeral home today; I remember how you loved that movie with that freak, David Bowie. I kept thinking you were walking it right up ahead of me and that it was like we were kids at Daytona Beach again, burying are feet in the cool wet sand. Life right now also reminds me of a Disney monorail, it’s going by in a fast blur and it seems like my only guide is speaking in a different language. I remember you and Shane daring me to do the crab walk over a sewer grate when I was 3. When I fell in and got stuck, I remember you told me the alligators in the sewer would eat me before dad could pull me out. I remember feeding you tomato soup when you were 11 and had just gotten 4 teeth pulled. I remember you said that God told you that me and Jonathan were going to get married some day.
I wish you could see all the people who love you and how much care they’ve shown to our family. It might not always have been clear or felt, but you are treasured by so many. You will never be forgotten. When I walk down the isle on my wedding day, I’ll know you’re there in the front in spirit holding flowers, watching me too. If I have a girl I promise I’ll name her Bethany. When I go into overseas missions, I’ll remember how you always supported me and told me how proud you were.
I hope I can live up to being the oldest child and the best sister to Clinton now. Mom and dad are so sad right now. God will help them. I’ve found that God is a lot bigger than I thought He was. He’s more merciful, too. I keep trying to think of what you would say to people right now if you could. That’s why I love looking at pictures of you. Your vivacious presence is captured in every single one of them. It’s like you’ve always been trying to tell people to enjoy what they have. So I’d like to close with the end of a favorite poem of mine by William Cullen Bryant, entitled Thanatopsis...
“So live, that when thy summons comes to join the innumerable caravan which moves to that mysterious realm, where each shall take his chamber in the silent halls of death... thou go not like the quarry slave at night, scourged to his dungeon, but sustained and smoothed by an unfaltering trust. Approach thy grave like one who wraps the drapery of his couch about him and lies down to pleasant dreams.”
I miss you Bethany. Nothing will ever be the same without you here. May God grant us all grace, and to you, peace to rest in His arms which have eternally longed for your return to Him.
Dear Bethany,
I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I’m sick... so sick since you’re gone. If I only could tell you how much I love you, how sorry I am. I’m sorry you were taken so soon in a way like this. I’m sorry we won’t see each other get married or have babies. Nineteen years is too short, but you enjoyed life and inspired everyone who knew you to love as you loved, to laugh as you laughed (except maybe for the whole snort and lean to the left till you fell our of your chair thing). Your life should not be remembered by one fateful night, but by a fountain of joyful memories.
I walked the labyrinth at the funeral home today; I remember how you loved that movie with that freak, David Bowie. I kept thinking you were walking it right up ahead of me and that it was like we were kids at Daytona Beach again, burying are feet in the cool wet sand. Life right now also reminds me of a Disney monorail, it’s going by in a fast blur and it seems like my only guide is speaking in a different language. I remember you and Shane daring me to do the crab walk over a sewer grate when I was 3. When I fell in and got stuck, I remember you told me the alligators in the sewer would eat me before dad could pull me out. I remember feeding you tomato soup when you were 11 and had just gotten 4 teeth pulled. I remember you said that God told you that me and Jonathan were going to get married some day.
I wish you could see all the people who love you and how much care they’ve shown to our family. It might not always have been clear or felt, but you are treasured by so many. You will never be forgotten. When I walk down the isle on my wedding day, I’ll know you’re there in the front in spirit holding flowers, watching me too. If I have a girl I promise I’ll name her Bethany. When I go into overseas missions, I’ll remember how you always supported me and told me how proud you were.I hope I can live up to being the oldest child and the best sister to Clinton now. Mom and dad are so sad right now. God will help them. I’ve found that God is a lot bigger than I thought He was. He’s more merciful, too. I keep trying to think of what you would say to people right now if you could. That’s why I love looking at pictures of you. Your vivacious presence is captured in every single one of them. It’s like you’ve always been trying to tell people to enjoy what they have. So I’d like to close with the end of a favorite poem of mine by William Cullen Bryant, entitled Thanatopsis...
“So live, that when thy summons comes to join the innumerable caravan which moves to that mysterious realm, where each shall take his chamber in the silent halls of death... thou go not like the quarry slave at night, scourged to his dungeon, but sustained and smoothed by an unfaltering trust. Approach thy grave like one who wraps the drapery of his couch about him and lies down to pleasant dreams.”
I miss you Bethany. Nothing will ever be the same without you here. May God grant us all grace, and to you, peace to rest in His arms which have eternally longed for your return to Him.
Father's Day E-Mail From Bethany's Uncle
Hey Clark - I just wanted to share with you a couple of thoughts I had when praying this morning for you and your family. I began reflecting on Bethany and what she meant to you as her dad. I know this feeling by the way my daughter feels about me, looks at me, and loves me. I know that you must feel so empty sometimes because Bethany came from you; now a portion of you is dead. I must be hard. To this day, I can’t imagine the way you must feel. It compels me to want to wrap my arms around you now and tell you once again how much I love you. More than that, I want to whisper in your ear, letting the words sink down into your soul, reminding you that God’s love and grace is endless, without boundaries, and can use your emptiness in ways that seem unimaginable now.
I began to think about Bethany’s last hours. But I was reminded how God does not know time the way I do. Time is not relevant to God, what matters most to God is relationship. There is no doubt in my mind that you can live with the hope of seeing Bethany again. I understand this hope because I have been the recipient of so much grace from God myself. I was, and am, so undeserving of forgiveness. I have screwed up so badly in my life. I may not have acted out in my loneliest of days the same as Bethany, but rest assured, I was self-destructive. Even in the midst of all that, God loved me, and somehow I loved God - there was a true and genuine relationship. If my brief time here on this earth suddenly evaporated during those lost and lonely days, I don’t think, for one moment, that God would have somehow abandoned me and forgotten about my sincere desire to be God’s child. In fact, I believe the closest Bethany ever came to resting completely in the presence of God was in those final moments where she breathed her last breath. I say this with all humbleness, yet confidence, because of all the times I cried out to God for mercy, compassion, forgiveness, and grace. God was there, even before I uttered my words, even before I thought to ask for mercy, yes, even in all of my anger and frustration. For me, the essence of who God is rests in my own weakness and fallibility. For in my weakness, God is made strong. And it is upon that same boundless mercy which leads me to believe, with confidence, that Bethany is with her Maker... waiting... waiting for her earthly daddy to come join her one day.
I began to think about Bethany’s last hours. But I was reminded how God does not know time the way I do. Time is not relevant to God, what matters most to God is relationship. There is no doubt in my mind that you can live with the hope of seeing Bethany again. I understand this hope because I have been the recipient of so much grace from God myself. I was, and am, so undeserving of forgiveness. I have screwed up so badly in my life. I may not have acted out in my loneliest of days the same as Bethany, but rest assured, I was self-destructive. Even in the midst of all that, God loved me, and somehow I loved God - there was a true and genuine relationship. If my brief time here on this earth suddenly evaporated during those lost and lonely days, I don’t think, for one moment, that God would have somehow abandoned me and forgotten about my sincere desire to be God’s child. In fact, I believe the closest Bethany ever came to resting completely in the presence of God was in those final moments where she breathed her last breath. I say this with all humbleness, yet confidence, because of all the times I cried out to God for mercy, compassion, forgiveness, and grace. God was there, even before I uttered my words, even before I thought to ask for mercy, yes, even in all of my anger and frustration. For me, the essence of who God is rests in my own weakness and fallibility. For in my weakness, God is made strong. And it is upon that same boundless mercy which leads me to believe, with confidence, that Bethany is with her Maker... waiting... waiting for her earthly daddy to come join her one day.
Letter To Former Pastor
Dear Pastor Wright,
Six weeks ago my family and I suffered a terrible tragedy. My 19 year old daughter was killed in a car accident on March 6th. Since you were always an inspiration to Clark and me at seminary and also very involved in Bethany’s early years, I wanted to tell you about her life and death and about some very miraculous things that occurred just before she died . . . particularly in regards to a sermon you preached years ago. You were the pastor who dedicated Bethany to God and also laid hands on her for her healing later (along with some seminary professors and church officials) when it was discovered that her eyes were severely crossed and she needed to have serious eye surgery. If you will remember, the operation actually failed and she had to wear little tri-focals strapped to her head. It was not until we moved to Texas that she was miraculously healed beyond anything science or medicine could explain. (But I will tell you about that at the end of this letter.) Knowing God was present during every step of this tragedy is the only thing that has helped us cope. People ask me how I can go on . . . how life can ever be normal again. It can’t. Every morning I wake to the realization that she is gone. I used to have nightmares where I thought someone was after me or one of my children was lost. I would wake up perspiring with my heart pounding and feel a wave of relief sweep over me when I realized it was just a dream. Now, for the first time in my life, I wake to a nightmare. It takes a moment for the truth to sink in . . . that my daughter is dead . . . and suddenly a feeling of terror and nausea grip me as I realize this time the nightmare is real. Then, however, . . . just as suddenly . . . a flood of warmth flows over me. It is a supernatural strength that calms my breathing and gives me the power to face the nightmare and overcome my grief. God has been just as close to us in this tragedy as He ever was before. As my husband told a friend, during our times of deepest sorrow, we have felt His love and comfort the greatest. It is an awesome phenomenon.
The thing I wanted to tell you about, though, was some of the events surrounding Bethany’s death and how God prepared us for it. Many years ago when we were attending seminary you preached a sermon about the three Hebrew children in the fiery furnace. You said they were not alone, that there was a forth man with them . . . the Son of God. You said no matter how horrific the trial or how hot the furnace, God would always be with us. We were not exempt from the furnace (trials), but God would give us strength to endure it. We would not be consumed by the fire.
For some reason that message moved me so deeply that I ordered the cassette tape. It was as if God was saying, “This message is for you . . . listen closely.” It was the only sermon I ordered during our 4 years at seminary. I would listen to it in the kitchen as I did dishes. I remember it distinctly. Bethany was one year old and had her tri-focals strapped to her head . . . scooting around the kitchen on a little yellow plastic bus. The wheels squeaked so loudly that I had to keep turning up the volume so I could hear your message clearly. It was like I was soaking it up for some later use.
It has been 18 years. I don’t recall any one else preaching that exact message until 7 weeks ago. My husband and I pastored for years until he took a secular job that paid more so we could save up to buy a home. We remained very active in the church and raised our children with family devotions and encouraged them to have their own as they grew up. Every one on both sides of our family are devout Christians. As a child Bethany was extremely spiritual, often inviting many of her friends from school to come to church. Several got saved through her efforts. Her greatest desire was to go into evangelism and reach the lost. In fact, the last entry in her journal was on a page that asked her about her hopes and dreams for the future. She wrote that she wanted to go to a Christian college and then become a youth evangelist and get others “on fire for God.” With it she included a message and labeled it #1, as though she was planning on writing a series of them. (Oddly, the message closes by saying that death is not an end but a beginning. It is the last sentence in her diary.) After a while, however . . . as many teenagers do . . . Bethany began to struggle with her faith. When she turned 18 she moved out of our house and in with her boyfriend. Needless to say it broke our hearts and we didn’t speak to her for weeks. Finally Clark and I went to a Christian counselor who asked Clark what Bethany would have to do in order for him to forgive her and have a relationship with her again. He took out a list of things she would have to give up or change. After listening the counselor asked gently, “What did God make you change or give up before He was willing to love and forgive you and have a relationship with you Clark?”
Suddenly we realized we needed to love our daughter unconditionally, just as God does us. We asked Bethany to forgive us and told her we would always love her no matter what. She asked us to forgive her and told us she loved us too. After that we remained very close even though she continued to live away from home. For 2 years every morning during my devotions I prayed that God would bring her back to Him. As I said, I do not remember hearing that exact same message you preached until about 7 weeks ago. Our pastor entitled it, “The Fourth Man.” Immediately I remembered your sermon. Once more it hit me like a lightning bolt. Once more I felt impressed to listen carefully . . . so I took notes and afterward ordered the CD. We had never been through any deep crisis and I saw none on the horizon, still I ordered it.
That following Friday Bethany and her boyfriend came over for dinner after going to a play her sister’s boyfriend was in. After eating I was washing the dishes when I had an overwhelming “feeling” that I should stop cleaning and spend time with Bethany. I ignored it and kept doing the dishes. The feeling grew stronger but I wanted to get the dishes done before I relaxed and spent time with the kids. Suddenly a voice in my head shouted, “STOP DOING THE DISHES AND SPEND TIME WITH YOUR DAUGHTER!” It obviously was not one of my thoughts. I would never say to myself “. . . your daughter.” I realized it was God. I had no idea why He was commanding me to stop doing the dishes and spend time with Bethany . . . still I obeyed.
Instantly I threw down the dish rag and went into the living room. We spent the next 30 minutes looking at photos that had just arrived by mail of our family which we had taken for the church directory. Bethany had agreed to go with us and even brought her boyfriend along and had one taken with him. (It was the only formal picture they had ever taken together and the one we used on her coffin since it was a closed casket.) The odd part was that even though it had been several years since our family had taken a professional photo together, I hadn’t planned to buy any since funds were tight. Bethany kept insisting we needed to and even made the comment that we didn’t know if we would ever have the chance to take another family picture together again. I thought her comment was very strange and told her we would have plenty more chances, but agreed to buy them. That night we framed some and put them up on the fireplace. When they walked to the door to leave I hugged Bethany good-bye, and as I did, I felt a strong feeling that I should tell her I loved her. I usually don’t say that without a special reason, but that night I obeyed my inner urging. As I hugged her good-bye I said, “I love you Bethany.” Her face lit up like a Christmas tree. She hugged me back and said, “I love you too, mom!” then waved good-bye as she walked to the car.
That was the last time I saw my daughter alive. Those were the last words we ever said to each other and those were the last family pictures we would ever take.
Two nights later on Sunday, March 6th, I climbed into bed planning to go right to sleep. Instead I felt a sudden burden to pray for Bethany. I asked God if I could wait until 5:30 the next morning when I had my regular devotions and normally prayed for her, but the feeling was one of urgency . . . that I needed to pray for her now. So I did. I began as I always did by asking God to bring her back to Him and to protect her while she was away from Him. It was very unsettling to feel that I needed to pray differently this time. It seemed like God was telling me to release her to Him. I no longer felt peace about praying for Him to protect her. I knew He wanted me to pray only that she would be brought back to Him . . . no matter what happened.
I honestly could not pray that. I loved my daughter and did not want anything bad to happen to her . . .still I could not shake the feeling that this time God was asking me to be prepared for the worst.
For one hour I wrestled with God and even bargained with Him. I said I was willing to die if standing at my coffin would bring Bethany back to Him. Still I had no peace. I cried for one solid hour until I was exhausted. Finally I told God I would “let go” under one condition. If Bethany was facing danger or death, I wanted Him to give her every opportunity to come back to Him . . . up to the moment she took her last breath. I begged God to promise me that He would send someone to “hold her and pray with her till she took her last breath.” I repeated it several times. Finally I felt peace come over me . . . as though God had accepted my “condition.” I rolled over and looked at the clock. It was 11:00PM.
At exactly 3:00AM the phone rang. It was the ORMC emergency room. A man said Bethany had been in a terrible car accident and to come immediately. When we arrived at the emergency room a hospital official and a doctor ushered us quickly into a small private waiting room and closed the door. (I immediately began to have a sinking feeling. I had watched the news many times about others losing their lives . . . especially teenagers killed on the highways. A gnawing fear inside of me said, “Maybe this time it’s your turn.”)
They told us Bethany and her boyfriend and another couple had left a Birthday party to go and get something at the store. The driver had been drinking and was speeding . . . perhaps as much as 90 miles an hour. He lost control of the car on a curve and hit a tree. Bethany’s friend, Crystal, was killed instantly. Bethany had been found lying on the side of the road dead. The hospital had not been able to revive her but the coroner stated that someone at the scene had revived her and she had lived for about 30 minutes. They would not let us see her in the morgue. X-rays showed she had broken almost bone in her body. It was as if she had jumped out of a plane and her parachute had not opened. The medical examiner had no explanation for why she was able to be revived and live that extra 30 minutes.
Overwhelmed by grief and shock, my husband and I held hands as we walked down the dark hospital corridor. I stared at the tiles beneath my feet and tried to control the panic rising up inside me. Suddenly I noticed that as I took each step, part of an old Bible verse I had learned in Sunday school (Psalm 23) kept repeating itself in my head . . . “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death . . . Thou art with me.”
The next 24 hours was a blur of excruciating pain, weeping, and gut wrenching nausea as we told our family and friends that we were going to bury our daughter. When our pastor arrived I told him of the strange events that had occurred during the night when God asked me to release Bethany to Him. Now I understood why. He knew she was going to die. In fact, I told the pastor of several other strange things that had happened recently. Several weeks earlier I had packed up some nick nacks to take to Goodwill. Among them were some items Bethany had given me. A thought from out of no where (like a voice) said to me, “If something happens to Bethany, those won’t be junk . . . they’ll be treasures.” I actually took them out of the box and saved them.
Another morning during devotions God told me very forcefully to write Bethany a card and tell her how much I loved her and how proud I was of her, and to finish it by saying that my greatest desire was that she would be with us in heaven where we could be a family together forever. The next day she left me a beautiful message on our answering machine thanking me for the card and telling me how much she loved me. Again a distinct thought ran through my head, “If something happens to Bethany, you’ll want to keep this message so you can always hear it.” I saved it for TWELVE DAYS. Irritated with myself for being paranoid, I decided to ignore the voice and erase it. (She died a week later.)
I also told our pastor about the promise I’d asked God to make me . . . to send someone to pray with Bethany... but figured I’d never find out who revived her or if they had prayed with her.
The next day our pastor appeared at the door with a strange look on his face. He said early that morning a florist had called the church and asked that he come over immediately to pick up something. They gave him flowers and a letter for us from the woman who had given Bethany CPR. She had driven one hour from Groveland into Winter Garden so she could get a letter to us immediately. She told the florist she normally went to bed by 10:00PM but on Sunday night “something told her” not to get undressed. The feeling was so strong that she actually went out and sat on her porch. When she heard the crash at 11PM she knew why God had told her not to get undressed. Everyone else had gone to bed but she was able to jump in her car instantly and drive to the crash site, revive Bethany, and pray with her. We believe from comments she made in her letter that she may have been a Native American Indian. I feel this was providential as they are raised to be very “in tune” with the soul and spirit. They can sense things that most of us probably can not. I believe God wanted this particular woman to be with Bethany in her dying moments. She was able to tell us that Bethany passed away peacefully and that she performed CPR on her even after her spirit left because she wanted her “to stay,” but that she knew on a “spiritual level” she was already “with the father.” She said it was “not by chance” that she was sitting outside at 11:00 that night and heard the crash, and that it was not by chance that she responded to Bethany’s needs . . . that she was a minister and spiritual healer and Bethany was in “good hands.” The most amazing thing she wrote, though, was that she wanted us to know Bethany had not passed away alone, that she had been there “holding her and praying with her till she took her last breath.”
Our pastor could hardly believe it! A perfect stranger had used the exact same words in her letter as I used to ask God to send someone to be with Bethany. It was as if the words had gone from my lips . . . to God’s ears . . . to her keyboard! I finished praying at 11pm and already at 10pm, God had someone waiting to fulfill His promise to me. (My mother said God sometimes answers prayer before we ask. In my case it was true.)
Another unusual thing is that the accident actually occurred in front of the home of a Baptist minister. He was the second one on the scene. We have since visited him and he told us that he stood by the woman who was praying out loud with Bethany and that he also prayed for Bethany to make peace with God as he could see she was dying. He said they never left Bethany’s side and never stopped praying for her until the helicopter took her away. (What are the odds that two ministers would be the first ones on the scene? Our pain is deep, but our belief that God was in control has never wavered. Steven Johnson may not have been in control of the car . . . but God was always in control of the situation.)
We buried Bethany on Friday, March 11. Instead of holding the funeral in the church we had it in the gymnasium which seats 300. Even then there was standing room only. The out pouring of love and support was overwhelming. The owner of my company closed the office and had everyone come to my daughter’s funeral. Several former employees who had left the company also came and sat with the others. Since Bethany had just graduated in Mayand our church is directly across the street from West Orange High School, many of the teachers and students came. There were also many employees and customers from the Target and Starbucks where she worked who had grown to love her.
At the funeral Bethany’s former youth pastor talked about her smile, bubbly personality, and her love of cheese (all kinds). Our senior pastor talked about Bethany’s struggles and compared it to the Bible story of the Prodigal Son. Even though the son had left and gone his own way, the father watched and waited everyday for him to come home. When he finally saw him a long way off, the father ran down the road to meet his son and welcome him home. Likewise God waits longingly for us to “come home.” The pastor closed by urging everyone to know for certain where they would spend eternity . . . that death can come to us all instantly, even while we are young. He said, “If you are here today I believe it was ordained by God. He is giving you another chance to enter into a relationship with Him so that you can know where you will spend eternity.”
When he asked if there were those who wanted to find God many raised their hands. We will never know how many others prayed the prayer of salvation without raising their hands. The pain of losing Bethany is excruciating but if there is any thing of comfort we can cling to, it is that Bethany did fulfill her dream of reaching others for God . . . even if it was the last thing she did.
On Sunday, two days after the funeral, a gentleman from the sound booth tapped me gently on the shoulder and handed me the CD I had ordered, “The Fourth Man.” Suddenly I understood. That message had always been for me. The memory of Bethany on her little yellow plastic bus pushing herself around the kitchen while I listened to your tape came flooding back. I had not heard that sermon in 18 years, but just before her death God gave it to me again. I realized that even though my husband and I had been placed in the furnace, God had been there with us. He had been standing at the bend in the road waiting for Bethany with out stretched arms to take her Home. In His tender mercy He had been preparing me all along to let her go, and that night He immediately fulfilled His promise to me by sending someone to hold her, and pray with her...till her last breath.
Pastor Wright, I can honestly say my husband and I have been in the fiery flames, but they have not consumed us. And now I can thank you for that message that I often thought about over the years, wondering if I would ever need its strength and comfort some day.
I did . . . and it brought me through.
Love in Christ,
Sharon Rivas
P.S. I promised I would tell you at the close of this letter how Bethany’s eyes were miraculously healed. As I mentioned, even though you and all the other “dignitaries” at Kansas City First Church prayed for Bethany’s healing, the first surgery on her eyes failed completely. After Clark graduated from seminary we took a small church in the little town of Lufkin, Texas, with 2 teenagers and 18 elderly members on crutches and walkers. Bethany’s second surgery was scheduled to take place in an elite hospital in Houston where she was to be operated on by the best eye doctor in the United States . . . the one who takes care of the astronauts. On Sunday evening, the night before the surgery, Clark asked the folks to come forward and once more pray for Bethany’s healing. They hobbled forward and laid hands on her but I confess I thought it was a waste of time since all the seminary professors and General Superintendent of our entire denomination had failed. On Monday morning we arrived bright and early at the hospital. The doctor examined Bethany’s eyes for final measurements. Then measured them again . . . and again. Next he called in another surgeon to examine her. Finally he asked, “Have you taken this child to another doctor for surgery?” We said, “No . . . of course not! You’re the best in the world! Where else would we go?” Puzzled we asked, “Why do you want to know?” He replied that Bethany’s eyes were completely normal and he could not explain it since she was one of the worst cases he had ever seen in his entire career. I then asked him, “Sir . . . Do you believe in prayer?” He said not really, that he was more of an atheist. Then I told him about the little elderly group of church people that had anointed her for healing the night before.
Slowly he went back to his desk and sat down. He sat there for quite some time, then finally turned on his tape recorder to dictate his medical notes. After stating that her eyes no longer needed to be corrected he finished by saying, “I have decided to cancel the operation on Bethany Rivas ... a greater physician than I has worked on this child.”
Bethany knew that story well. She could never deny the miraculous healing power of God. I have come to believe this . . . sometimes God allows us to go through difficult things because He is trying to reach someone else. Bethany was not healed the first time because there was on older doctor in Houston, about ready to retire, who was an atheist and needed to know that God did exist. And I have also learned this . . . the greatness of the miracle does not depend on the greatness of the title of those praying for it. God has a reason for not healing us . . . or not healing us yet. He has His own divine plan . . . and His ways are higher than our ways.
Six weeks ago my family and I suffered a terrible tragedy. My 19 year old daughter was killed in a car accident on March 6th. Since you were always an inspiration to Clark and me at seminary and also very involved in Bethany’s early years, I wanted to tell you about her life and death and about some very miraculous things that occurred just before she died . . . particularly in regards to a sermon you preached years ago. You were the pastor who dedicated Bethany to God and also laid hands on her for her healing later (along with some seminary professors and church officials) when it was discovered that her eyes were severely crossed and she needed to have serious eye surgery. If you will remember, the operation actually failed and she had to wear little tri-focals strapped to her head. It was not until we moved to Texas that she was miraculously healed beyond anything science or medicine could explain. (But I will tell you about that at the end of this letter.) Knowing God was present during every step of this tragedy is the only thing that has helped us cope. People ask me how I can go on . . . how life can ever be normal again. It can’t. Every morning I wake to the realization that she is gone. I used to have nightmares where I thought someone was after me or one of my children was lost. I would wake up perspiring with my heart pounding and feel a wave of relief sweep over me when I realized it was just a dream. Now, for the first time in my life, I wake to a nightmare. It takes a moment for the truth to sink in . . . that my daughter is dead . . . and suddenly a feeling of terror and nausea grip me as I realize this time the nightmare is real. Then, however, . . . just as suddenly . . . a flood of warmth flows over me. It is a supernatural strength that calms my breathing and gives me the power to face the nightmare and overcome my grief. God has been just as close to us in this tragedy as He ever was before. As my husband told a friend, during our times of deepest sorrow, we have felt His love and comfort the greatest. It is an awesome phenomenon.
The thing I wanted to tell you about, though, was some of the events surrounding Bethany’s death and how God prepared us for it. Many years ago when we were attending seminary you preached a sermon about the three Hebrew children in the fiery furnace. You said they were not alone, that there was a forth man with them . . . the Son of God. You said no matter how horrific the trial or how hot the furnace, God would always be with us. We were not exempt from the furnace (trials), but God would give us strength to endure it. We would not be consumed by the fire.
For some reason that message moved me so deeply that I ordered the cassette tape. It was as if God was saying, “This message is for you . . . listen closely.” It was the only sermon I ordered during our 4 years at seminary. I would listen to it in the kitchen as I did dishes. I remember it distinctly. Bethany was one year old and had her tri-focals strapped to her head . . . scooting around the kitchen on a little yellow plastic bus. The wheels squeaked so loudly that I had to keep turning up the volume so I could hear your message clearly. It was like I was soaking it up for some later use.
It has been 18 years. I don’t recall any one else preaching that exact message until 7 weeks ago. My husband and I pastored for years until he took a secular job that paid more so we could save up to buy a home. We remained very active in the church and raised our children with family devotions and encouraged them to have their own as they grew up. Every one on both sides of our family are devout Christians. As a child Bethany was extremely spiritual, often inviting many of her friends from school to come to church. Several got saved through her efforts. Her greatest desire was to go into evangelism and reach the lost. In fact, the last entry in her journal was on a page that asked her about her hopes and dreams for the future. She wrote that she wanted to go to a Christian college and then become a youth evangelist and get others “on fire for God.” With it she included a message and labeled it #1, as though she was planning on writing a series of them. (Oddly, the message closes by saying that death is not an end but a beginning. It is the last sentence in her diary.) After a while, however . . . as many teenagers do . . . Bethany began to struggle with her faith. When she turned 18 she moved out of our house and in with her boyfriend. Needless to say it broke our hearts and we didn’t speak to her for weeks. Finally Clark and I went to a Christian counselor who asked Clark what Bethany would have to do in order for him to forgive her and have a relationship with her again. He took out a list of things she would have to give up or change. After listening the counselor asked gently, “What did God make you change or give up before He was willing to love and forgive you and have a relationship with you Clark?”
Suddenly we realized we needed to love our daughter unconditionally, just as God does us. We asked Bethany to forgive us and told her we would always love her no matter what. She asked us to forgive her and told us she loved us too. After that we remained very close even though she continued to live away from home. For 2 years every morning during my devotions I prayed that God would bring her back to Him. As I said, I do not remember hearing that exact same message you preached until about 7 weeks ago. Our pastor entitled it, “The Fourth Man.” Immediately I remembered your sermon. Once more it hit me like a lightning bolt. Once more I felt impressed to listen carefully . . . so I took notes and afterward ordered the CD. We had never been through any deep crisis and I saw none on the horizon, still I ordered it.
That following Friday Bethany and her boyfriend came over for dinner after going to a play her sister’s boyfriend was in. After eating I was washing the dishes when I had an overwhelming “feeling” that I should stop cleaning and spend time with Bethany. I ignored it and kept doing the dishes. The feeling grew stronger but I wanted to get the dishes done before I relaxed and spent time with the kids. Suddenly a voice in my head shouted, “STOP DOING THE DISHES AND SPEND TIME WITH YOUR DAUGHTER!” It obviously was not one of my thoughts. I would never say to myself “. . . your daughter.” I realized it was God. I had no idea why He was commanding me to stop doing the dishes and spend time with Bethany . . . still I obeyed.
Instantly I threw down the dish rag and went into the living room. We spent the next 30 minutes looking at photos that had just arrived by mail of our family which we had taken for the church directory. Bethany had agreed to go with us and even brought her boyfriend along and had one taken with him. (It was the only formal picture they had ever taken together and the one we used on her coffin since it was a closed casket.) The odd part was that even though it had been several years since our family had taken a professional photo together, I hadn’t planned to buy any since funds were tight. Bethany kept insisting we needed to and even made the comment that we didn’t know if we would ever have the chance to take another family picture together again. I thought her comment was very strange and told her we would have plenty more chances, but agreed to buy them. That night we framed some and put them up on the fireplace. When they walked to the door to leave I hugged Bethany good-bye, and as I did, I felt a strong feeling that I should tell her I loved her. I usually don’t say that without a special reason, but that night I obeyed my inner urging. As I hugged her good-bye I said, “I love you Bethany.” Her face lit up like a Christmas tree. She hugged me back and said, “I love you too, mom!” then waved good-bye as she walked to the car.
That was the last time I saw my daughter alive. Those were the last words we ever said to each other and those were the last family pictures we would ever take.
Two nights later on Sunday, March 6th, I climbed into bed planning to go right to sleep. Instead I felt a sudden burden to pray for Bethany. I asked God if I could wait until 5:30 the next morning when I had my regular devotions and normally prayed for her, but the feeling was one of urgency . . . that I needed to pray for her now. So I did. I began as I always did by asking God to bring her back to Him and to protect her while she was away from Him. It was very unsettling to feel that I needed to pray differently this time. It seemed like God was telling me to release her to Him. I no longer felt peace about praying for Him to protect her. I knew He wanted me to pray only that she would be brought back to Him . . . no matter what happened.
I honestly could not pray that. I loved my daughter and did not want anything bad to happen to her . . .still I could not shake the feeling that this time God was asking me to be prepared for the worst.
For one hour I wrestled with God and even bargained with Him. I said I was willing to die if standing at my coffin would bring Bethany back to Him. Still I had no peace. I cried for one solid hour until I was exhausted. Finally I told God I would “let go” under one condition. If Bethany was facing danger or death, I wanted Him to give her every opportunity to come back to Him . . . up to the moment she took her last breath. I begged God to promise me that He would send someone to “hold her and pray with her till she took her last breath.” I repeated it several times. Finally I felt peace come over me . . . as though God had accepted my “condition.” I rolled over and looked at the clock. It was 11:00PM.
At exactly 3:00AM the phone rang. It was the ORMC emergency room. A man said Bethany had been in a terrible car accident and to come immediately. When we arrived at the emergency room a hospital official and a doctor ushered us quickly into a small private waiting room and closed the door. (I immediately began to have a sinking feeling. I had watched the news many times about others losing their lives . . . especially teenagers killed on the highways. A gnawing fear inside of me said, “Maybe this time it’s your turn.”)
They told us Bethany and her boyfriend and another couple had left a Birthday party to go and get something at the store. The driver had been drinking and was speeding . . . perhaps as much as 90 miles an hour. He lost control of the car on a curve and hit a tree. Bethany’s friend, Crystal, was killed instantly. Bethany had been found lying on the side of the road dead. The hospital had not been able to revive her but the coroner stated that someone at the scene had revived her and she had lived for about 30 minutes. They would not let us see her in the morgue. X-rays showed she had broken almost bone in her body. It was as if she had jumped out of a plane and her parachute had not opened. The medical examiner had no explanation for why she was able to be revived and live that extra 30 minutes.
Overwhelmed by grief and shock, my husband and I held hands as we walked down the dark hospital corridor. I stared at the tiles beneath my feet and tried to control the panic rising up inside me. Suddenly I noticed that as I took each step, part of an old Bible verse I had learned in Sunday school (Psalm 23) kept repeating itself in my head . . . “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death . . . Thou art with me.”
The next 24 hours was a blur of excruciating pain, weeping, and gut wrenching nausea as we told our family and friends that we were going to bury our daughter. When our pastor arrived I told him of the strange events that had occurred during the night when God asked me to release Bethany to Him. Now I understood why. He knew she was going to die. In fact, I told the pastor of several other strange things that had happened recently. Several weeks earlier I had packed up some nick nacks to take to Goodwill. Among them were some items Bethany had given me. A thought from out of no where (like a voice) said to me, “If something happens to Bethany, those won’t be junk . . . they’ll be treasures.” I actually took them out of the box and saved them.
Another morning during devotions God told me very forcefully to write Bethany a card and tell her how much I loved her and how proud I was of her, and to finish it by saying that my greatest desire was that she would be with us in heaven where we could be a family together forever. The next day she left me a beautiful message on our answering machine thanking me for the card and telling me how much she loved me. Again a distinct thought ran through my head, “If something happens to Bethany, you’ll want to keep this message so you can always hear it.” I saved it for TWELVE DAYS. Irritated with myself for being paranoid, I decided to ignore the voice and erase it. (She died a week later.)
I also told our pastor about the promise I’d asked God to make me . . . to send someone to pray with Bethany... but figured I’d never find out who revived her or if they had prayed with her.
The next day our pastor appeared at the door with a strange look on his face. He said early that morning a florist had called the church and asked that he come over immediately to pick up something. They gave him flowers and a letter for us from the woman who had given Bethany CPR. She had driven one hour from Groveland into Winter Garden so she could get a letter to us immediately. She told the florist she normally went to bed by 10:00PM but on Sunday night “something told her” not to get undressed. The feeling was so strong that she actually went out and sat on her porch. When she heard the crash at 11PM she knew why God had told her not to get undressed. Everyone else had gone to bed but she was able to jump in her car instantly and drive to the crash site, revive Bethany, and pray with her. We believe from comments she made in her letter that she may have been a Native American Indian. I feel this was providential as they are raised to be very “in tune” with the soul and spirit. They can sense things that most of us probably can not. I believe God wanted this particular woman to be with Bethany in her dying moments. She was able to tell us that Bethany passed away peacefully and that she performed CPR on her even after her spirit left because she wanted her “to stay,” but that she knew on a “spiritual level” she was already “with the father.” She said it was “not by chance” that she was sitting outside at 11:00 that night and heard the crash, and that it was not by chance that she responded to Bethany’s needs . . . that she was a minister and spiritual healer and Bethany was in “good hands.” The most amazing thing she wrote, though, was that she wanted us to know Bethany had not passed away alone, that she had been there “holding her and praying with her till she took her last breath.”
Our pastor could hardly believe it! A perfect stranger had used the exact same words in her letter as I used to ask God to send someone to be with Bethany. It was as if the words had gone from my lips . . . to God’s ears . . . to her keyboard! I finished praying at 11pm and already at 10pm, God had someone waiting to fulfill His promise to me. (My mother said God sometimes answers prayer before we ask. In my case it was true.)
Another unusual thing is that the accident actually occurred in front of the home of a Baptist minister. He was the second one on the scene. We have since visited him and he told us that he stood by the woman who was praying out loud with Bethany and that he also prayed for Bethany to make peace with God as he could see she was dying. He said they never left Bethany’s side and never stopped praying for her until the helicopter took her away. (What are the odds that two ministers would be the first ones on the scene? Our pain is deep, but our belief that God was in control has never wavered. Steven Johnson may not have been in control of the car . . . but God was always in control of the situation.)
We buried Bethany on Friday, March 11. Instead of holding the funeral in the church we had it in the gymnasium which seats 300. Even then there was standing room only. The out pouring of love and support was overwhelming. The owner of my company closed the office and had everyone come to my daughter’s funeral. Several former employees who had left the company also came and sat with the others. Since Bethany had just graduated in Mayand our church is directly across the street from West Orange High School, many of the teachers and students came. There were also many employees and customers from the Target and Starbucks where she worked who had grown to love her.
At the funeral Bethany’s former youth pastor talked about her smile, bubbly personality, and her love of cheese (all kinds). Our senior pastor talked about Bethany’s struggles and compared it to the Bible story of the Prodigal Son. Even though the son had left and gone his own way, the father watched and waited everyday for him to come home. When he finally saw him a long way off, the father ran down the road to meet his son and welcome him home. Likewise God waits longingly for us to “come home.” The pastor closed by urging everyone to know for certain where they would spend eternity . . . that death can come to us all instantly, even while we are young. He said, “If you are here today I believe it was ordained by God. He is giving you another chance to enter into a relationship with Him so that you can know where you will spend eternity.”
When he asked if there were those who wanted to find God many raised their hands. We will never know how many others prayed the prayer of salvation without raising their hands. The pain of losing Bethany is excruciating but if there is any thing of comfort we can cling to, it is that Bethany did fulfill her dream of reaching others for God . . . even if it was the last thing she did.
On Sunday, two days after the funeral, a gentleman from the sound booth tapped me gently on the shoulder and handed me the CD I had ordered, “The Fourth Man.” Suddenly I understood. That message had always been for me. The memory of Bethany on her little yellow plastic bus pushing herself around the kitchen while I listened to your tape came flooding back. I had not heard that sermon in 18 years, but just before her death God gave it to me again. I realized that even though my husband and I had been placed in the furnace, God had been there with us. He had been standing at the bend in the road waiting for Bethany with out stretched arms to take her Home. In His tender mercy He had been preparing me all along to let her go, and that night He immediately fulfilled His promise to me by sending someone to hold her, and pray with her...till her last breath.
Pastor Wright, I can honestly say my husband and I have been in the fiery flames, but they have not consumed us. And now I can thank you for that message that I often thought about over the years, wondering if I would ever need its strength and comfort some day.
I did . . . and it brought me through.
Love in Christ,
Sharon Rivas
P.S. I promised I would tell you at the close of this letter how Bethany’s eyes were miraculously healed. As I mentioned, even though you and all the other “dignitaries” at Kansas City First Church prayed for Bethany’s healing, the first surgery on her eyes failed completely. After Clark graduated from seminary we took a small church in the little town of Lufkin, Texas, with 2 teenagers and 18 elderly members on crutches and walkers. Bethany’s second surgery was scheduled to take place in an elite hospital in Houston where she was to be operated on by the best eye doctor in the United States . . . the one who takes care of the astronauts. On Sunday evening, the night before the surgery, Clark asked the folks to come forward and once more pray for Bethany’s healing. They hobbled forward and laid hands on her but I confess I thought it was a waste of time since all the seminary professors and General Superintendent of our entire denomination had failed. On Monday morning we arrived bright and early at the hospital. The doctor examined Bethany’s eyes for final measurements. Then measured them again . . . and again. Next he called in another surgeon to examine her. Finally he asked, “Have you taken this child to another doctor for surgery?” We said, “No . . . of course not! You’re the best in the world! Where else would we go?” Puzzled we asked, “Why do you want to know?” He replied that Bethany’s eyes were completely normal and he could not explain it since she was one of the worst cases he had ever seen in his entire career. I then asked him, “Sir . . . Do you believe in prayer?” He said not really, that he was more of an atheist. Then I told him about the little elderly group of church people that had anointed her for healing the night before.
Slowly he went back to his desk and sat down. He sat there for quite some time, then finally turned on his tape recorder to dictate his medical notes. After stating that her eyes no longer needed to be corrected he finished by saying, “I have decided to cancel the operation on Bethany Rivas ... a greater physician than I has worked on this child.”
Bethany knew that story well. She could never deny the miraculous healing power of God. I have come to believe this . . . sometimes God allows us to go through difficult things because He is trying to reach someone else. Bethany was not healed the first time because there was on older doctor in Houston, about ready to retire, who was an atheist and needed to know that God did exist. And I have also learned this . . . the greatness of the miracle does not depend on the greatness of the title of those praying for it. God has a reason for not healing us . . . or not healing us yet. He has His own divine plan . . . and His ways are higher than our ways.
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