How God was with my family after a farm accident took my Daddy
By Mary Grace Johnson
Mary Grace Johnson around the age she lost her dad.
I loved growing up on a small farm not far from Bridgeport, Nebraska. And I loved watching Daddy work around the farmyard, taking him lunch in the corn or wheat fields, and seeing his love for tinkering with old cars.
I had four siblings, a dog, several cats, and other animals to play with and enjoy around the farmyard. I was also blessed to have Christian parents and a loving family around me, including all my first cousins and both sets of grandparents.
When I was eight years old, on a hot and sunny day in May 1971, my mom gathered the five of us siblings, and we piled into the pickup to take lunch to the field where Daddy was working. It was past lunchtime, we had all eaten, but he hadn’t come home.
Unfortunately, the pickup had a flat tire, so Mom worked on changing the tire while we kids waited nearby. It wasn’t quick work, and I could tell she was uneasy with the task. My sister thought she seemed nervous and agitated as we waited. After a while, she finished, so we all crawled back in and started out of the driveway.
We didn’t get far. Mom stopped the pickup when she spotted two cars behind us on the road, which she recognized as our grandparents’ cars. They approached the pickup, and they told Mom that my father had been killed in a farm accident while he was disking a field.
Cries and sobbing took over. My Mom cried out and nearly passed out. I wasn’t sure what happened, but I was struck by fear. I felt a heavy weight in my chest. My sister started running to the house, only to be called back by our grandparents.
When they explained to us that Daddy was gone, the tears came. Our grandparents surrounded us, providing comfort in what was the worst moment of our young lives.
We drove back into the yard and went into the house. Things seemed to move very fast and blur as we packed up some things in our bags to take with us to our extended families’ homes. My grandparents made plans as to where each of us could stay because there wasn’t a place where we could all stay together.
At one point, my sister dropped onto the bed and prayed, “Dear God, please take Daddy to heaven.”
I realized at that moment that God would answer because Daddy had a personal relationship with God. He spent his life taking us to church, teaching us to pray, and sharing about God through his words and actions. He knew the Lord.
While I knew Daddy was in heaven, I was afraid -- afraid to see Mom’s pain and afraid for the future.
Grief doesn’t stop, and neither does God
Life changed for me, as I grew up and went to college out of state. I met and married the love of my life whom I had met in college, and we lived on the farm where he grew up. In the next six years, we had two children, a boy and a girl.
While our children didn't get the chance to know Daddy, they shared a close bond with my mom, and I also found comfort in knowing that I learned a great deal from him while he was on this earth.
I have been able to share stories of Daddy’s love and playful nature with my children and grandchildren.
Grief doesn’t stop, as we all learn in this life. I lost my precious grandparents who helped us through Dad’s death through the years. In 2009, my eldest sister passed away from ovarian cancer. Her death was a huge blow to my life, and the depression and anxiety were a lot to handle.
After a time, I felt I had learned to live with grief. But then, in 2019, it all came rushing back. My daughter and her husband lost their 40-year-old sister-in-law in a car accident. She left behind a husband and six kids.
During the visitation and funeral, my husband and I stayed with the two youngest kids, ages 4 and 7, as they played outside in the driveway. At times, the older boy would say, “My mommy died,” or “I won’t see her again.”
I tried to assure them that they would see their mother again in heaven, and they felt comfort in knowing that. During lunch after the funeral, the youngest sat on my lap, a shared comfort for us both as memories of losing my own Daddy flooded back.
Understanding God in a deeper way
Mary Grace Johnson’s mother raised and supported 5 children after the death of her husband and Mary’s father.
God took hold of my heart with a new purpose after the funeral as to what I might do to help others who faced the loss of a parent or close relative at a young age.
It hasn’t been easy. I am still learning so much about trusting God, and it is a daily experience of putting everything into His hands and following His purpose for my life. But I have joy in my heart, knowing my Daddy and other close loved ones are in heaven with Jesus.
While I continue to struggle with anxiety and depression that began in high school, which was fueled by the loss of Daddy, I have learned to lean on my Heavenly Father, the Comforter and Deliverer, and the Holy Spirit, who helps me put things into perspective.
And I'm getting there, with God's saving grace. You see, God sent His Son to die for me so that I might have eternal life if I choose to accept it, even though I am so undeserving.
The shortcomings. The flaws. The lack of trust. The fear. Yet God continues to provide forgiveness throughout my journey so I may be reunited with Him one day -- just like he did for my Daddy.
Mary Grace Johnson lives in Tea, South Dakota, where she resides with her husband. She is semi-retired but still substitute teaches at Sioux Falls Christian School, writes at home, and sells Usborne Books & More. Mary Grace graduated from the University of Sioux Falls with a Bachelors degree in English and a Masters degree in Reading and has a Library Media Specialist endorsement. Besides her husband, she has two married children and three grandchildren who are the loves of her life. She is currently writing articles about her experiences with grief, depression, and anxiety and is working on a children’s book and a memoir. Learn more about her at https://marygracejohnson.net