He Gives and Takes Away

God does not throw His children into raging waters to drown them but rather pre-equips them with tools necessary for survival, enabling them to come out stronger on the other side. When I look back on the many years leading up to Mark’s death, I can see how God had prepared us ahead of time. 

From mid 2017-2018 there were approximately 54,000 troops deployed to the Middle East. Only twenty-eight of them did not come home. Statistically speaking, the odds were 99.953% in favor of Mark coming home. But he didn’t. On the other hand, my dad is alive despite several close calls with death. But in both situations, we can claim that God is sovereign, and God is good. “He gives and takes away, blessed be His name” Job 1:21. 

He Gives

We joke in my family that my dad has nine lives. My mom tells us about his first brush with death as an Air Force fighter pilot in the mid 80s when his plane stalled in flight, regaining control only seconds before plunging into the ocean. She realized that day how close she came to becoming a widow with two young children. Yet for some reason, God spared us that tragedy. 

Nearly 20 years later, as a commercial pilot, my dad flew the 757/767 cross country for American Airlines. He flew AA flight 11 from Boston to Los Angeles on September 9th, 2001. On September 11th, AA11 was hijacked and crashed into one of the Twin Towers. I still think about how different our lives would have been if the attacks had been just two days earlier. We praised God for sparing his life, but not without feeling a deep sorrow for the thousands of families that were affected. Our “joy” was someone else’s sorrow. 

In January of 2010 my dad was landing a plane at DFW airport in poor weather conditions. Approaching the runway, he was told the crosswinds were at 31 knots (32 knots being the cut off for a safe landing). When he safely and smoothly landed the plane, passengers broke out in applause. His plane was the last to land before they started diverting all aircraft. Little did he know that would be the last plane he would ever land. A mere ten minutes after safely putting down the plane in the highest crosswinds of his career, he had a stroke. Had it happened a few seconds before landing, the co-pilot would not have had time to take the controls before those cross winds flipped and crashed the airplane, possibly killing everyone on board. One plane later in the landing queue his flight would have been diverted and the stroke would have happened in the air. 

My dad’s stroke was caused by a hole in his heart, which allowed a clot to bypass his lungs and go straight to his brain. Upon recovering from the stroke, he had heart surgery to close the hole. I visited him after the surgery and, although he had more bleeding than desired, he overall seemed to be doing well. That night I woke up to a 3am phone call from my mom. In a broken voice all she could get out was, “Lori, please come now.” I later found out at that point she didn’t know if my dad was alive or dead as she had just been swiftly escorted out of the room by one of the nurses. I drove 45 minutes in the middle of the night not knowing what the situation would be when I arrived at the hospital. I tried to prepare myself for the worst. When I arrived, I found that my dad had coded and was technically dead for 38 seconds (he’s very proud of this fact!) before his heart started beating again. But by God’s grace, my dad has made almost a complete recovery from this surgery and from the stroke.

In his latest brush with death (as of the day I write this), he was helping my youngest sister, Leah, move from Texas to Mississippi. He was driving the Suburban with a 17ft trailer attached and Leah was following behind in her car. They were driving in the rain during thick rush hour traffic when the suburban hydroplaned, spun 180 degrees, crossed four lanes of traffic (facing against the traffic), and came to a perfect stop on the right shoulder. My dad said it played out in slow motion and he actually thought, “This is it. This is how I die.” He utterly believed that the trailer would flip, and he would smash into the concrete barrier at 60mph. Leah also thought she was watching his death. She said cars continuously surrounded him as he traversed the four lanes. No more than 30 seconds after my dad came to a stop, a tow truck driving on the freeway pulled over to stop traffic and help him get the car and trailer turned around. He met Leah at a nearby gas station to regroup and her first words to him were, “You just won’t die!!” 

It is no coincidence that my dad is still here, it is the providence of God. Because God spared my dad when, for all intents and purposes, he should be dead, I realize that we all have an expiration date and that you will not leave this Earth until God is done with you. It doesn’t matter how dire the circumstances. Conversely, knowing this also gave me a peace that, when He does determine to take somebody, it is the providence of God as well.

He Takes Away

After years of intense Pararescue training, Mark was excited to be heading out on his first deployment. Pararescue is an elite branch of the Air Force comparable to the Navy Seals. They are tasked with going into the front lines to rescue and treat injured soldiers. Less than 10% of those that enter the training “pipeline” successfully graduate. Mark’s first deployment was supposed to be in October of 2018; however, it came to light that Patrick Air Force base was in need of a Combat Rescue Officer (CRO) for their January-June deployment. Mark and one of his fellow CROs from Moody agreed to take TDY and split the deployment. They flipped a coin – Mark got the first half (Jan-March), while his buddy got the second half (April-June). Initially they thought they were heading to Incirlik where they would be a “reserve” team, but at the last minute they were sent to the front lines in Iraq. 

For fifty days leading up to the crash we learned that Mark was doing 16-hour alert days leading two different teams. Ironically, March 15th (the day of crash), he was given off. His commander told him something to the effect of, “You haven’t showered in a week and you’re leaving in a few days. Take the day off, shower, do your laundry and start getting things in order for going home.” Shortly after this conversation THE mission came in. Knowing the stakes of the mission, a couple Parajumpers (PJs) asked for Mark to be put on the mission with them. The commander told us one of them was so adamant he said, “If Weber doesn’t go, we don’t go.” Mark evidently then insisted that he be put on the mission and their request was granted.

We learned that Jolly 51 and Jolly 52 were on a mission heading into Al’ Qaim to get in place for potentially dangerous rescues from the front lines of a battle (presumably between Iraqi soldiers and ISIS). They came in for landing in an area with four rows of unmarked 3/4in thick steel cables attached to 340-foot towers surrounding a phosphate plant. These wires were a “fly trap” strategically placed to keep aircraft from entering. The pilots had been warned about the towers, but nobody knew about the wires. With no moon or any other source of light, the wires went undetected. They hit just right for the rotter to become entangled in the wires. With the rotor still trying to rotate, within seconds it ripped off and Jolly 51 was launched at 120 mph, partially breaking apart in the sky, crashing and exploding two football fields away.

Jolly 52 was spared by the spark created by Jolly 51, lighting up the sky enough to reveal the wires and allowing them to pull up and out of harms-way. They avoided death by a matter of feet. Despite wanting to immediately land, Jolly 52 was forced to circle the area nearly 40 minutes searching for a safe landing point amidst all the wires. Once on the ground, the team was forced to dodge ammunition that was still firing from the burning wreckage. They did their best that night to pull out what remains they could and in a moving act of honor and respect, covered them with an American Flag until they could be properly transferred from the site. This bloodstained flag is now part of a powerful memorial at Patrick Air Force base. To add to this chain of events, my parents were later shown papers detailing a reconnaissance mission planned by the US coalition for March 16th to this exact area where obstacles such as these cables would have been plotted out. 

Had even one thing played out differently in this course of events, Mark would still be here.  Had he called heads instead of tails in the coin toss, had they gone to Incerlik like originally planned, had he just done his laundry like he was told, had they been 10 feet higher or 10 feet lower, had the reconnaissance mission taken place a day earlier or the mission a day later, and so on and so on, he would still be here. But just as it isn’t a coincidence that my dad is still here, neither is it an accident that Mark is gone. All of it was in God’s plan since the beginning. 

We have since received a very touching letter from the CRO who was originally assigned to be on the Jolly 51 that day. He wrote, “I will never forget Mark. Not just because of the many conversations we had both in preparation for and during deployment, but also because Mark inadvertently saved my life.” Reading this made me think back to Sept 11th and how my dad’s life was inadvertently saved because somebody else was on AA11 that day. Now we were in the very situation we avoided on September 11th. However, unbeknownst to us, the actions of 911 started the War on Terror setting the wheels in motion that would eventually kill Mark.

The night of the crash I remember my Dad saying, “I’ve tried to enter Heaven several times and God keeps kicking me back down to Earth. And yet, here Mark is at 29 years old and God takes him. He must have really wanted him home.” While often we don’t understand how God works, we do know that everything happens for our good and His glory. Romans 8:28 says, “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” B.M. Franklin describes it so beautifully in the The Weaver, a poem my dad shared with us a couple weeks following the crash:

My life is but a weaving
   Between my Lord and me,
I cannot choose the colors
   He worketh steadily.
Oft times He weaveth sorrow
   And I in foolish pride
Forget He sees the upper
   And I, the underside.
Not till the loom is silent
   And the shuttles cease to fly
Shall God unroll the canvas
   And explain the reason why.
The dark threads are as needful
   In the Weaver’s skillful hand
As the threads of gold and silver
   In the pattern He has planned.

A  Lingering Fog

“Grief is the price we pay for love.” These words were said by Queen Elizabeth. The reason the hurt is so bad is because the joy was so great. Had we never known Mark, there would be no grieving. But Mark brought so much joy into our lives. He lived life to the fullest and had an amazing sense of humor. He loved God and had a passion for sharing that love of God with others. His generosity was unending. He’d always come to my house with bags full of groceries ready to cook up and share. I will never forget the numerous “epic” and “spontaneous adventures” he took me on, especially that one time he made me jump off a 24ft cliff and half the freezing cold river went up my nose. I wouldn’t exchange any of that even if it meant I could avoid the sorrow of today.

After a tragedy everybody asks you how you are doing. I would always answer that I had equal parts peace and pain – a lot of both. It may seem contradictory, but that’s exactly how I felt. It’s like when you’re a child and something breaks your heart, but then your mom runs to your side, picks you up, and embraces you. You instantly feel a sense of security and comfort despite the simultaneous hurt. Likewise, I felt wrapped tightly in the arms of God.

The first weeks were a blur. One minute we were standing on a Dover AFB tarmac at 2:00am in the freezing cold watching the transfer of seven carry cases covered in American flags and the next we were driving from our home in Texas to the memorial service with the streets lined with flags, signs and people for four whole miles. I had never felt more broken and I had never felt more loved.  

In addition to the emotional effects of grief, the physical effects of grief were a surprise to me. I was nauseous for weeks. On top of that was the “grief brain,” leaving a fog so dense I felt like I was looking down on my body. And while the fog did lessen as the shock wore off, it lingered for a long while. I remember one day sitting on my floor for 30 minutes trying to fold a load of laundry. There were no distractions, but I just couldn’t do it. I felt like the fog seeped into every aspect of my life. I left stove burners on, misplaced things, felt like I was suddenly extra clumsy, and couldn’t stay on task or get anything done. I remember voicing these frustrations to a friend and her telling me to give myself grace. I held on dearly to that advice, because that was all I could do. 

It didn’t take long for various grief books to start finding their way into our hands. Everybody deals with grief so differently and, while I’m sure they are helpful to many, I could not relate to any of them. Several I felt talked to you like a kindergartener or talked about grief in such an abstract manner I had no idea what they were trying to say. Many listed stages of grief, none of which I felt I was following. I never felt angry or bitter, just a whole lot of sadness and hurt. I just missed him. A lot. Books that did help, however, were stories of those who had been through trials and suffered well. These types of books spoke on the sovereignty of God and His character as a good and loving God. The difference I found between “grief” books and these books was hope. Instead of leaving me with a sense of despair, reminding me of my tragic circumstances and what my so called long, drawn-out, grief journey would look like, these books left me uplifted, feeling like I could continue to find joy in life.  

I also found it perplexing, although well-meaning, that people would say, “I’m so sorry for you.” Not “I’m sorry for your loss” but “I’m so sorry for you.” I have been blessed beyond what I deserve and continue to see God’s grace and blessings even in the wake of this tragedy. Have I ever asked God, “Why us?” Sure. But I have never doubted His plan or felt sorry for myself in all this.

Life is hard, and I’d be lying if I said there are not days when my heart hurts so much that all I can do is pray for Jesus’ swift return. But there are so many blessings from God that make life worth living. Having someone you love in Heaven changes your perspective on life though. It makes you not worry so much about things on this side of Heaven. I love Laura Story’s lyrics from her song Blessings: “What if my greatest disappointments, or the aching of this life, is the revealing of a greater thirst this world can’t satisfy.” This life is merely a waiting room or a staging area for the wonder and amazement that is yet to come when we enter God’s glory. Trivial things that used to matter just don’t anymore. I don’t fear death because I know there’s something better waiting. Not only the joy of being in the presence of God, but also a grand reunion with a loved one now gone. 

After loss there is deep sorrow and pain. But life can be as miserable as you make it. You can wallow and withdrawal, or you can choose to keep living. Neither option will bring your loved one back, so why not keep living and honor the memory and legacy of your loved one in the process? I can guarantee that would be their desire. Moving on and continuing to live doesn’t mean you forget your loved one, it simply means you don’t dwell on the circumstances so much that you can’t see the amazing things God has for you in the present and the future. 

There is beauty and pain on this earth. There are good days and bad days. But by God’s grace the good outweighs the bad, or at least our hope outweighs the bad. I will never forget Mark and I continue to miss him so deeply. But I will keep living even in the wake of tragedy and grief. “For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.” 2 Corinthians 4:17-18

Lori Weber is the oldest sister of Captain Mark Weber who was killed in action on March 15, 2018 in Al Anbar, Iraq. She is a NICU nurse and midwife residing in the Atlanta area.