One moment I was the one who was praying, and in the next month, I was the one who needed prayer! Friday, September 13, 2019, was a day I will never forget. To fully appreciate these moments, I’ll go back a week or so prior.
It was just a regular Tuesday morning. I was in the middle of my daily devotion when I received word that one of my friends had a medical emergency. After sitting for about 10 minutes, I decided to head over to the hospital. I really didn’t know what to expect, I just knew I had to go. I knew I had an assignment to pray. And, while there was much prayer going up – God chose to heal her on the other side.
The next week I was preparing for my friend’s funeral services. On my way to her viewing, I received a call from my dad and brother. They gave me the latest update concerning my brother’s medical treatment for his breathing, as he was scheduled for a follow-up appointment the next day. I remember saying, “Dad, make sure they check Sheldon’s heart.” I had no real concerns, I just felt that his appointment should be comprehensive and thorough.
As I hung up the phone, I said, “Sheldon, you’re going to have to lose weight!” He jokingly replied, “…And Staci, you need to do the same thing too.” I chuckled, agreed, and ended the call. Never in a million years did I think that would be my last conversation with my brother.
The next day I was scheduled to do the Prayer of Comfort at my friend’s Homegoing Service. Once I completed the prayer and returned to my seat, my phone started ringing repeatedly. Everyone close to me knew where I was. So, for them to be calling me in the middle of the service was odd. The first few times, I responded via text by replying, “I’ll call you back.”
But they kept coming and coming. I dismissed myself from the pulpit and called my sister back. She answered the phone crying and told me, “SHELDON IS GONE!” My first response was, “Gone where?” After I finally realized what she meant, the next moments became a complete blur.
I remember being on the floor of the church, surrounded by a bunch of people. I knew I was crying – but could not explain why. After a while, I remembered seeing Tiffany, my best friend reaching to pick me up. Then suddenly, I began screaming, “SHELDON DIED…SHELDON DIED!” The next thing I knew, I was in the back seat of a car headed to Delaware.
When I arrived, I entered his room and found him peacefully lying on the bed. All I could do was fall on his chest and weep. I could not believe that my baby brother was gone. I could not believe that God had allowed another member of my immediate family to pass away. It was just six years prior that we buried my mom…and that still seemed unreal.
I could not believe God disrespected the order, by now having my dad bury his son. I could not believe that my brother actually died two days before his 42nd birthday. I could not believe that in a matter of six years, our party of five was down to three. I was in total disbelief and didn’t know how to process what I was experiencing.
The thought of having to plan Sheldon’s funeral with my family made me sick to my stomach. During the process, I remember having moments where I fluctuated between being the Pastor and being a Sister. The Pastor stood broken before her congregation, and at the same time attempted to display strength and faith in God. The grieving Sister had trouble breathing and hours of uncontrollable crying. The Pastor was committed to fulfilling every ministerial assignment on her schedule. The Sister could barely get out of bed and wanted to lie in a dark room. The Pastor worked with “The Family” (my family) to ensure every detail was complete, relating to the services. The Sister quietly became disgusted and wanted everybody out of the house. The duality of living both roles kept me on edge.
The quick onset of my emotions came as if they had prepared for an encore performance. I clearly was not fully resolved from my mom’s passing. I realize that while each loss was devastating, by comparison, they felt miles apart. I often say, when my mom passed away, I felt lost – however after Sheldon passed, I felt broken.
Our three-linked sibling chain was destroyed. Many can attest that siblings often have a unique set of rules, tolerances, and language. Arguing and agreeing are plotted on a fine line. And, while there are internal allowances for being critical and crossing the line – outsiders dare not try it.
Together, we had the perfect blend and balance. My sister and I have personalities that range from being reserved to aggressive; controlled to being unrestricted. Sheldon’s personality fit perfectly in between. His presence and humor had a way of smoothing us out and bringing attention to what was important.
Memories of his humor were captured through his style of singing, the way he mimicked others, his unique perspective of situations, and his infamous words of encouragement, “Fight With Your Hands Out!” Even now, these words remain on repeat in my ears and fuel me to keep pushing.
Over the past four years, I have done a ton of reflecting and learned that where there are no answers, there can still be peace! To this day – Sheldon’s death is still a mystery to me. With so many unanswered questions, peace has become my refuge and shelter. It has become the perfect gift from God that keeps me every day.
I recall when peace resuscitated me. The Sunday before Sheldon’s passing, he put on one of his suits and went to church. When he returned from church, he decided to sit outside (in his suit) and take in some air. A few days after his passing, my dad’s neighbor visited and said he recognized Sheldon sitting in the front of the church a few days before. He recognized him because of his suit. It turned out that the neighbor attended the same Sunday service and shared that he witnessed Sheldon having a whole worship experience at the altar and how it encouraged him. This recollection gave me life!
I knew my brother was saved. However, this testimony assured me of a revelation of God’s Sovereignty. Knowing that God used one of Sheldon’s last moments to be a light for someone else served as a reminder of Sheldon’s work being complete. I am a firm believer that whenever God begins to reveal Himself at the end of a season – He is birthing a moment to carry His Glory!
In closing, I can honestly say that living through grief is a daily decision. I think about my brother every day – and every day I choose to LIVE. It’s funny that even when I’m operating in a ministerial capacity, I pull from this experience to bring credence to what I’m trying to convey. It’s equally amazing to see the response of others when they realize my words are not borrowed but are real.
Real words have a way of casting a net that goes deep and wide. I believe God wraps His Word around these types of net experiences to draw souls into His Kingdom. Therefore, I have learned to repurpose my tears. While they still flow – prophetically, they water the ground for the next harvest. None of my sadness, pain, or grief shall be wasted!
“For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us.” Romans 8:18
PRAYER:
God, I thank You that You are the lifter of every head! Your Word is true. You are made perfect in our weakness. So, I pray for everyone who is dealing with the loss of a loved one. Send the reminder that you give strength to stand, peace that goes beyond understanding, and joy that’s unspeakable.
Let them take comfort in knowing that you have not and will not fail! And, for this, we say thank you.
In Jesus Name, Amen
Connect with Rev Staci Williams:
@RevSEW (FB, Instagram, X)
@GOPChurchNJ (FB, Instagram, X)
Garden Of Prayer Church
64 Hanover Street
Pemberton, NJ 08068
Want to hear more of Rev. Staci’s story? Watch our Moms Night In conversation on YouTube:
Or watch here on our Faith-Filled Moms Facebook page.
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