Three white crosses remembered
In June, three young sisters from my hometown of Wenatchee, Washington, were murdered while in the weekend custody of their dad. A search for the father, the presumed suspect, continues. When the public memorial observance was held for those three adorable little girls, three crosses were displayed. Each cross had a heart where attendees could sign messages in honor of Paityn, Evelyn and Olivia Decker.
For me as a retired pastor, such a symbolic representation seemed most appropriate. The cross calls to mind both the recognition of undeserved death and the promise of unending life. In the cross of Christ, we see a cosmic plus sign. The transcending grace of God has canceled out the negative sign represented by sin and its consequences.
News of the girls’ murder aroused national attention. How could a father allegedly take the lives of his precious children? The news of that tragedy that stole the lives of children from my hometown also aroused a memory I had buried.
Twenty-six years ago in Naperville, that ironically had just been recognized as the best city in America to raise kids, a 41-year-old mother drugged and suffocated her three children, ages 7, 6 and 3, in their home. The woman, Marilyn Lemak, who was estranged from her husband, then attempted suicide but was unsuccessful. What we learned rocked our community to the core.
The murders took place in 1999 as our community was approaching Holy Week. Three white wooden crosses were placed in the front yard of the home where the three children were killed. Somehow it seemed appropriate. The season of Lent, in which our grieving city found itself, invited us to embrace both suffering and hope.
A clergyman in Naperville at the time, I was asked by our local newspaper to reflect on the heartbreaking events and offer words of hope. Talk about a challenging assignment. What to say? Where to begin. Somehow, I was able to gather my thoughts and prayerfully put pen to paper.
Recently, while sorting through old files, I came across the column I wrote. What follows is an excerpt:
Not everything that seems like a dream really is. I drove by that dream house on Loomis Street this week, just like you did. I can’t get the picture of those three crosses planted in the front yard out of my mind. Just like you can’t …
The trio of crosses reminds us of the world God visited as a man. It is a world that breaks the Creator’s heart. Where innocent children die, where justice is denied, where natural disasters and wars level the castles of our dreams. Where power pins love to the mat. Where forgiveness is misunderstood and even God Himself is judged a criminal and sentenced to die. And we wonder why.
Three other crosses on a hill outside Jerusalem suggest an answer. In a world where the dreams we have for our children shatter, in a world where the nightmares leave us little sleep, in a world where an entire community’s heart can be broken --- in such a world God weeps with us.
He is a loving God who still holds the reins even when He does not hold back showers of suffering. He is a God who reluctantly allows evil to stalk the earth in order to preserve a world in which individuals are not cosmic puppets. Free will comes at such a price. And with the freedom to choose right from and wrong comes the very things we choose.
But as we approach the horizon of Easter, we quickly realize that those three crosses are not the final milepost on our somber journey. The crosses are eventually dwarfed by an empty tomb. In other words, no matter how many crucifixions we are called to face, despair is not the final chapter. Grace is! God’s love cannot be silenced …
Ours is a God who knows the pain of losing a child. He knows the chill of death’s shadow. And because He’s been there, God knows how to care for us when our primal questions refuse trite answers. We can count on His love to prevail.
• The Rev. Greg Asimakoupoulos is a former Naperville resident who writes about faith and family.