The Trinity

Not long ago my son Christian and I were kayaking on the Trinity River, just a few miles from home.  We began to explore a finger off the river called "Denton Creek", but had to turn back sooner than we wanted because it was getting late.  Christian casually mentioned that "next time" we would explore further up Denton Creek.

It was the second time that day that Christian talked about what we might do "next time" we went kayaking on the river together, and both times it felt like a punch to the gut.  In just a few days Christian and Dani would be leaving for Europe, and it was unclear to me when my son might be back in North Texas.  Christian will be looking for a job while in Europe, and whether he is successful there or not there is a very real possibility that he will not be living under my roof again.  Christian is grown up, and more than ready to begin his own journey in life.

I should probably be worried for the safety of Christian, Dani and Tommy as they travel together.  But, selfishly, when I think of them my thoughts turn to the emptiness of the house and how little time I may have to spend with any of the kids in the future.  Nine months ago the house was a constant circus -- filled with noise and endless activity.  Now it is quiet and still.

For most of our adult lives we understand intellectually that few things in life (God, family and friends, perhaps) have any real meaning, but we do not live that way.  We convince ourselves that we can slow down when we meet certain financial, career or other goals, but the finish line never comes -- or it comes far too late.  We blink and realize that so much of life has passed us by.  For those of us who love Jesus, we blink and realize there is so much more we could have done for the kingdom of God if only we had we had grasped the truth earlier in life.

When Christian and I set out on the Trinity for the first time I marveled at the fact that the river was less than ten minutes from our house, and yet for all these years I was all but unaware of it.  Then, as we headed upstream my thoughts quickly turned to how much Jonathan would have loved kayaking on the river with us, and how our ignorance of the river had deprived us of some great times that could have been.

And so it is with life.  The most important things are often hidden in plain view.  We need only stop long enough to see them.  Things like faith, hope, love and family.


The kids have dedicated their trip to Jonathan's memory.  Since Jonathan could not be there physically, each of the kids is represented by a Lego figure. Jonathan is the one in white.
















Tommy on the Trinity. 

 

Faith, Hope, Love and Purpose

Over the past months I have had occasion to read many stories of other parents about the loss of a child and about life, such as it is, following such a loss.  Not surprisingly, I seem to gravitate mostly to stories of young people (usually in their late teens or twenties) who obviously left this world far to early.  The contexts are varied -- from homicide to suicide, a drug overdose to a car accident, or health issues -- both expected and unexpected.  But, the heartbreak is always the same.

I have corresponded with some of those parent-writers through email, and I recently learned that a woman who wrote one of these blogs took her own life earlier this month.  It is difficult to comprehend, as her daughter had done the same thing a couple of years ago and this women therefore knew quite clearly the devastating impact her decision would have on the survivors in her family.  In fact, this woman had written a book about her experience, and I am sure that many parents found her writing to be a source of hope and inspiration.  Yet, somehow, for some reason, her pain became too great.  And, in a one irretrievable moment she made her escape.

 

Nearly eight months into our own journey and I still wonder what separates those who successfully navigate the loss of a child from those who do not.  What common denominator, if there is one, allows some people to return to productive and facially normal lives, while others never seem to escape the torment sufficiently to function even outwardly?

 

Speaking only for myself, I would say that my desire to do more than merely survive comes from the realization that my family still needs me and that God does not seem finished with me just yet.  Judge me if you wish, but without these things -- and particularly without faith -- I can easily understand why someone would see escaping the pain as a viable option. 

 

With faith, of course, comes hope.  There is the hope of one day understanding how God in his infinite wisdom can take even this horrific circumstance and use it to work out his divine purpose.  Even better, is the hope and promise that our family will be reunited some day.  And then there is love.

 

True Christian faith also means a love of God and a love of other people.  It means loving God enough to tell others about him no matter what else is going on in our lives.  It means trusting God enough to be content in good circumstances and in bad.  It means keeping our eyes focused on Jesus and on the mission.

 

To me, living a life that is about more than surviving requires that we stay focused on our purpose.  And, our purpose is really pretty simple.

 

Love God -- Love People -- Advance the Gospel.