Spring

It has been a little over a week since I last wrote anything on this blog, and for that I apologize.  While pain and joy both are often mothers of creativity, numbness seems to result largely in blank pages.  Or, put more concisely, I have simply had nothing to say in the last week.

I have resolved and then endeavored several times to get caught up on a number of projects that have mostly languished over the last two months.  Each time, however, I have lost focus -- managing to eek out only the most pressing or time sensitive tasks.  Real life in its present form is increasingly insisting on my return, but finding the will to move forward is far more difficult than I might have imagined.  There are few moments in any given day when Jonathan is not on the top of my mind.

As Pam and I sat together and talked this morning, one of us mentioned something that has been on both of our minds lately -- Spring.  Spring in Texas is always an odd mixture of life returning or emerging and unpredictable weather -- thunder storms, hail and the occasional tornado.  But, it is the "life returning and emerging" part that had captured our attention.

After over twenty years in Texas we are all familiar with the signs of Spring.  The grass slowly returns to green from the dormant brown of winter, leaves emerge on the trees and bunnies, lizards and other critters become normal sights again.  And then there are the incredible Texas wildflowers.

For both Pam and I, though, the reemergence and renewal of life this Spring is just another reminder -- like so many other things -- that our son is gone and that he is not coming back.  To see the world spring back to life without Jonathan in it evokes emotions that defy description.  Pam often uses the word "unfair" to describe the loss of our son.  But to me, "unfair" seems so singularly inadequate to express the gravity of our situation.  At the same time, no other word, nor even any number of words strung together, seems adequate.

Last night Pam, Dani and I went out to dinner, as we have done many times since Jonathan went home to be with the Lord.  It was a long wait, and I am trying to recover from what I suppose is the flu, so I was pretty worn out by the time we were seated.

As I looked around the crowded room I could not help but imagine the conversations that were taking place at other tables.  They were, no doubt, mostly focused on trivial matters -- maybe even entirely so.  It is interesting that even as Christians we allow the most trivial of things dictate our moods, thoughts and interactions with others.

It may be the trivial thing that makes us "happy" -- such as the latest Texas Rangers game or an episode of Downton Abbey.  It may be the thing that ruined our day and left us angry -- such as the rude comment from our boss or coworker or the person who stole our parking spot at the grocery store.  But the truth is that the wrong kinds of trivial things take up far too much of our time and emotional energy -- time and energy that would otherwise be spent loving God and loving others.

The other side of the coin, though, is that trivial things make up most of the substance of life.  This last week Pam posted numerous pictures of the family taken during our two trips to Germany in recent years.  Some of those pictures were of the many snowball fights that we had during those vacations.

One series of photographs in particular was taken while we were touring at Hohensalzburg Castle in Salzburg, Austria.  I am not sure that snowball fights were thought of favorably at the castle.  On the other hand, signs saying that such activities were prohibited were conspicuously absent.

At one point during the tour Jonathan went inside to use the public bathroom, and the rest of the family used the opportunity to quickly plan a snowball ambush.  Jonathan seldom came out on the losing end of such things, so this presented a rare and overdue opportunity.  Unfortunately, while the rest of the family armed ourselves and took strategic positions, other tourists became interested in our little ambush, and the gathering assembly tipped Jonathan off that something was amiss.  So, while he was unable to avoid the onslaught in its entirety, it was far less effective than our minds had imagined.

Was that moment in time trivial?  Surely.  But trivial is not always the same as unimportant.  Indeed, the most important moments in life are usually trivial in their nature.  Yes, it was just a snowball fight -- but one that brought our family closer together -- that stirred in each one of us our love for one another and our desire just to spend time together.  The question is not whether we will spend most of our time on trivial things -- we will.  The question is whether we will spend most of our time on trivial things that matter.

Along those lines, I want to leave you with this thought.  Pam and I have in the last couple of months been given a number of books written by people who claim to have had near death experiences -- where folks have been given at least a glimpse of heaven and lived to tell about it.  I don't know how you feel about near death experiences, but I approach them with some skepticism.  It is not that I discount them entirely -- to the contrary, I frequently find them to be thought provoking, fascinating and sometimes even quite credible.  Nevertheless, I think we are to be discerning about such things.

Having said that, one of the things that these authors commonly say is that in heaven there is an overwhelming sense of love.  Indeed, that is undoubtedly the most common and most poignant part of the experience.  It is a sense of love that they almost universally describe as, well, indescribable.  On the other hand, I have yet to read an account of heaven where Jesus wanted the person to return to the world with some theological clarification.  None of the writers describe Jesus saying, for example, "I brought you to heaven so you could go back and settle all the confusion about 'election and predestination.'"

I think there is a reason for that.  I just don't think Jesus is all that interested in most of our theological debates and conflicts.  I think He just wants us to learn how to love Him and to love other people.  You will have plenty of time in eternity to debate the great theological issues -- although I suspect that when you get to heaven you won't much care about most of that anymore.  Sorry, but in the scheme of things I think that most of those debates center on things that at the end of the day are trivial -- in a bad way.

Love God, Love People, Advance the Gospel

Despair

On Monday Pam and I dropped Christian and Tommy off at the airport as they began their journey to India.  We would have been concerned parents anyway, but given recent events our worry for their safety was off the charts.  Still, we are grateful to Tommy for including Christian in this adventure, and know it is a great opportunity in so many ways.  But the other side of the coin is that the house is quiet.

When the kids were growing up Pam and I always assumed that Jonathan would be forever the adventurer and that Christian would stay close to home.  But during their college and post-college years it became clear that just the opposite was true.  Christian was our adventurer.  Jonathan liked to travel -- but he loved being home.

I know that people are mobile these days, and that kids frequently move away -- even out of state.  But I hate the idea of it.  Frankly, I think the loss of family intimacy caused by a mobile society is at the root of many of our social problems.  It is why so many of our elderly are lonely and so poorly cared for.  

To be honest, the thought of Christian living away from us broke my heart.  He is such a great young man.  But Jonathan being close at least made the thought tolerable.  At least I would have one son nearby.  

Of course, at the end of the day Pam and I want Christian to pursue his dreams.  And, we will encourage him to do just that.  At the same time, it wouldn't bother me a bit if he met a nice Texas girl who he could not live without!!

In any event, it has been an emotional week -- as every week has been since the first Sunday in February.  And, I don't see that changing any time soon.

That said, for some reason I have felt compelled all day to express as best I can some of the various feelings and emotions that I have been experiencing the over the last several weeks.  I have to say at the outset that I am not sure why.  While I am sure that everyone who experiences the loss of a child shares some common emotions, I also think that no two people can have the same experience.  Even Pam and I are in very different places much of the time.  

Nevertheless, I guess it is my hope that someday someone who has suffered a horrendous loss will read this and know at least that they are not alone.  Maybe they will at least see that there are others who understand their grieving, and others who have survived.

So, in no particular order, here we go.

ALONE

I am a pastor in a mid-sized church.  The support we have gotten from our family, friends and church family has been nothing short of amazing.  There are plenty of people who are willing to spend time with us and to help us in any way they can.  It is an incredible blessing, and a really good reason for you to consider becoming part of a church community of you are not already.

Still, in the midst of all these people and all this support much of the time I still feel incredibly alone.  Pam and I certainly can be a comfort to one another, and we pray together more than we ever have before.  But she is his mother, and I his father.  It may seem odd if you have never experienced this kind of loss, but we do not, and cannot, fully understand each other's pain.  Although I think Jonathan is constantly on both of our minds, we focus on different things.    

When I get into the car to go to work each morning, and again when I return home, I pick up my cell phone and think about someone I might call who could help.  Anyone who might have the right words to bring a little peace into my life.  But, no one ever comes to mind.  There is no one.

The only two people who I think might have the right words are my father and Jonathan.  But they are both with God.  I am convinced that they have all the answers -- the problem is that when I speak to them neither answers back.

FRUSTRATED

If you were at Jonathan's memorial service or you have been reading this blog you might have the wrong impression of Jonathan.  He was all the things that have been said and written about about him, but he was also human and imperfect.  He had his victories and his defeats just like anyone else.  He had his flaws and weaknesses just like anyone else.

But, whatever ups and downs Jonathan had in his life none were insurmountable.  Either he could solve the problem himself or Pam and I could help him through it.  If he cut his knee as a little boy Pam could put a band aid on it, give it a kiss and everything was alright.  More recently, if he got stressed at work or needed financial advice or even help we could work our way through it together.

Although I am not sure Pam and I discussed it directly at the time, during the last several months before he left us we both were thinking to ourselves that he had gotten to the point where we really didn't have to worry too much about him any more.  It was time to focus our attention on the other two.  He had a great job and a great life.

And then this.  It was the first time that I had no ability to intercede -- no ability to fix the problem.  And there are times when I am just plain overcome by feelings of helplessness and frustration.  I am his father, and fathers are supposed to be able to fix everything!

ANGRY

Anger is, at least in my case, a close cousin of frustration.  There are times when the feeling of helplessness leads me to a place where I want to scream or, better yet, break something.  So many times I have wanted to pound the steering wheel or punch a hole in the wall.

Most of the time my anger has no particular object.  There is no particular person, thing or organization that I desire to be the recipient of my wrath.  I have never been angry with God -- nor has Pam.

Jonathan's death was preventable, and there are times when I, oddly enough, find myself angry at him for not taking the proper precautions.  If he could have anticipated this outcome, and if he could have comprehended the horrific suffering that would result for his family and friends, I am sure he would have been more careful.  

But again, most of the time my anger is undirected.  It is raw emotion with no one and nowhere to vent it.

ANGUISH

By far, my most common emotion is simply anguish.  I can define it for you easily enough.  Anguish is defined as "severe mental or physical pain or suffering."  Synonyms include agony, pain, torment, suffering, distress, angst, heartache, desolation and despair."

I can define it, but I cannot explain it.  I cannot help you to understand what it feels like or to experience it.  It comes in waves.  It comes when it wants -- when you least expect it and when it is inconvenient.  It may be triggered by a place, a song or a picture, or it may just come -- seemingly without reason.

From what I am reading, the anguish will likely never go away.  The waves may come less frequently, but come they will.  And that is an exceedingly unpleasant thought.  

Now, I know that some of you are wondering how someone who has the hope of Christ can have such a negative outlook.  Well, the answer to that is that I don't.  I believe with all of my heart that God is going to bring healing to me and to my family.  I believe with all my heart that my passion for serving God will continue to grow and that He will use this tragedy for our good.  I believe that we will all find joy again.

But my feelings now are real and, more importantly, they are normal.  I get that at some point I need to move forward and return as best I can to the world of the living.  But honestly, the timing of that is in God's hands.  I just don't have the inner strength to get there on my own.