The Dream is Over

Like millions of other people around the world, just under a year ago I read the tragic news that Pastor Rick Warren had lost his son.  I knew a little about Pastor Warren from his book "A Purpose Driven Life" and I knew a little about Saddleback Church -- having spent many years in Orange County California.  But I really knew nothing about the man.  I did not know that he had a wife named Kay or a son named Matthew.  For that matter, I knew nothing about his family at all.

Like so many others, my heart went out to Pastor Warren and his wife when I heard the news.  I remember briefly and feebly trying to put myself in their shoes.  I remember contemplating the fact that no one is immune from the tragedies of life.  And then, I went back to my life as usual.

Today, of course, I no longer have the luxury of experiencing passing sympathy for the Warren's, or for any other parent who has lost a child for that matter.  Pam and I are ourselves now, as they say, part of "a club no person would ever want to join."

Up to this point in my life, with rare exception everything has been relatively good -- or as we say in the Christian world "blessed."  Its not that there haven't been ups and downs, or even situations where I felt desperate or that life had gotten out of control.  But, every time there was a storm it eventually passed.  Almost without exception, I could always look back at the trials and conclude that there was never really anything to worry about in the first place.

The last ten years in particular have been nothing short of incredible.  I have seen God do amazing things in my life.  Even more, I think God has given me perspective on things like what "success" really means.

During these last ten years I successfully transitioned from lawyer to pastor (mostly).  I have been fortunate enough to have a wife who has not only been understanding, but has embraced God's strange call on our lives.  I have watched my kids grow into healthy and accomplished adults.  Among other things, Jonathan graduated from Baylor, Christian from Pepperdine University, and Dani has been going to school, doing Kung Fu with Pam (and more recently with Jonathan) and has fun working with dogs several days a week.

But more importantly, during this time rather than drift apart, our family has if anything grown closer together.  While all of our kids have had (and still have) great friends, our family has by and large remained central to their lives.

But everything changed on February 2, 2014.  Now, of course, we are facing a storm unlike any we have faced before.  And, I am afraid, it is a storm that will never completely pass.  I hate to say it, but in many respects the dream is over.

I am not saying that we will now be in a perpetual nightmare or state of angst.  I am not even saying that we will never experience joy again.  I am just saying that this loss is something that will NEVER heal completely -- no matter how much we would like to believe differently.

I happened to read two posts on Facebook today that really caught my attention.  One was from Kay Warren.  I will not repeat the entire post here, but part of her post was to say that at nearly the one year anniversary of her son's death she is nowhere close to "healing."  Another theme was that people should not expect her to heal quickly, or indeed for the old Rick and Kay to come back -- ever.  They are gone.

The support was utterly amazing. But for most, life never stopped – their world didn’t grind to a horrific, catastrophic halt on April 5, 2013. In fact, their lives have kept moving steadily forward with tasks, routines, work, kids, leisure, plans, dreams, goals etc. LIFE GOES ON. And some of them are ready for us to go on too. They want the old Rick and Kay back. They secretly wonder when things will get back to normal for us – when we’ll be ourselves, when the tragedy of April 5, 2013 will cease to be the grid that we pass everything across. And I have to tell you – the old Rick and Kay are gone. They’re never coming back. We will never be the same again. There is a new “normal.” April 5, 2013 has permanently marked us. It will remain the grid we pass everything across for an indeterminate amount of time….maybe forever.

The other post was from a woman who is seven years out from losing her son.  Her comment was specifically to me in response to one of my blogs.  Again, I won't repeat the entirety of what she had to say, but this is part of it.

I'm sorry you have to endure THIS pain and suffering...yes i said suffering...because that is what it is like. It has been a little over 7 years since my son was killed.....and I still struggle daily with my pain and with my grief. I'm sorry to say this, but it DOES NOT get EASIER, it only gets tolerable...and even THAT takes time and will take it's toll. I think I finally came out of the SHOCK just last year. The only advice I can give you is this....be PATIENT with yourself, your spouse and your other children....grief is mysterious....and needs TIME to process.

My point in all this is that from very early on I knew not only that life had changed, but that Pam, Christian, Dani and I were going to change as well.  It is far too early to know what that means, and I truly hope that the "new" me one day will be better than the old me.  I hope that somehow my faith grows through this, and that my perspective on life and its priorities will become more clear, more accurate.

But, in the meantime life is unpredictable.  Emotions come and go frequently and quickly.  In one moment I think I am doing well, and in the next I am overcome with grief, anger, frustration ....  you name it.  

Pam, Christian, Dani and I went out for frozen yogurt today.  We were having a nice time, when suddenly a pained expression appeared on Pam's face.  As she looked across the table at Dani and Christian, the thought jumped into her mind that the picture she was seeing was not right -- our family was broken and incomplete.  She began to talk with tears in her eyes about how perfect our family had been when it was the five of us.  It is a thought that all of us probably have daily.

I saw a blog the other day about how Christians should grieve.  The blog was well thought out and the author referred to plenty of scripture.  The problem, however, was that there was nothing in the blog to indicate that the author had ever experienced catastrophic loss in his life.  No offense, but from where I sit there is only one way Christians should grieve, and its a way that was never mentioned in that blog.  It is simply this:  as best they can.

 +Kay Warren 

+Rick Warren