First Anniversary: you grow into it - you do not get over it

April 25, 2009

First anniversary weekend

We are all on the airplane right now in route to Spokane.  It feels very bittersweet – I can’t wait to see Daniel’s friends but I know it will be very hard to see them with him missing.  I realize that we are choosing to embrace these kids and thus the pain that comes with being present at Whitworth.  It would be much easier to stay away – to keep a safer distance from these people and the feelings that will likely emerge.  Yet, we all want to be with them – the kids, professors, and staff who Daniel loved and lived among during his last eight months on earth.

There is something sacred in this journey.  Whitworth and Spokane somehow became a “Mecca” for Daniel.  It was a place where Daniel’s experience of God, personally and in community, blossomed and deepened.  Thus, this is a strange and sad but somehow exciting pilgrimage for us to a holy place in our son’s short life.

April 27, 2009

The weekend in Spokane

We are packing up to leave Spokane after our 48 hours here.  This was an absolutely amazing experience.  Daniel’s friends – Ben R., Justin, Dustin, Ben G., Janna, Alicia, Amber, Curtis, Collin, JJ, Lauren, Lindsey, Jenny, and many more – reached out to us, embraced us, and simply wanted to be with us.  What amazing kids and what an amazing gift!  The adults – Bill and Bonnie, Sean and Grace, Kristi, Calvin and Teresa, Dick, and especially Jerry – simply welcomed us and cared for us in very profound ways.  All sweet loving people whose actions so clearly demonstrate the love of Christ – what it means to live in community and in relationships rooted in grace and love.

The fragrance of Whitworth is stunning to the senses.  It is truly and example of “Thy kingdom come” – it is a glimpse into God’s kingdom – both a foretaste of the heavenly kingdom and a great example of what can occur when humans commit themselves to pursuing deep and abiding relationships.

Jerry is truly amazing – 18 years of grief, hard work, and deep reflection have profoundly shaped him.  Yet, he is very honest and direct – one of his opening lines when we first sat down with him in his home was – “this really sucks, doesn’t it?”  Other quotes include:  “you are stepping directly into the darkness” – “you grow into it (grief and loss), you do not get over it.”

Over several conversations in our two days staying at his home, we discussed numerous topics and angles to this journey.  He shared his belief that we live in two dimensions and our loved ones who have passed on live in three dimensions – our two plus one more – somehow this is “heaven” and this enables them to share in our experiences even though we are not sharing in theirs, yet.  We compared notes on our individual experiences sensing the presence of our deceased loved ones as we approach and participate in the Eucharist – there is a thin veil separating us from them at God’s table when we are all participating in the “communion of the saints” – literally.

Looking at Jerry’s family photos all over his home gives us hope.  His three kids – two, six, and eight when their mother, sister, and grandmother died are thriving.  They have not only survived, they are doing great.  Growing up without a mother was treacherous, at times, but Jerry threw himself into his role as a single father and figured it out.  As he describes it, many times he did not feel like taking his kids to music lessons, or camping, or whatever, he just did it and continued to do it until it worked.

Stability was his goal and overall he achieved it even though he struggled throughout it all in so many ways, emotionally and spiritually.  He speaks about how fragile everyone and everything was – how he knew that their collective survival literally depended on him achieving some sense of stability in his family and home.

Jerry’s story is so compelling – so grace-filled – so hopeful and wonderful – yet he still carries the unimaginably deep wound and profound grief over losing three members of his family at once.  His loss remains what it is – treacherous – yet his life and his family’s life are robust and good, just not the same good that he imagined.

Prayer:  Jerry described himself as a “combative” with God when he prays, believing that God wants to know what we want even if He doesn’t always give us what we want.

God’s will:  Jerry believes this is mostly about redeeming the world and using us in the process if we are will to participate.  Bad things still happen to believers – we are not promised, nor should we expect or seek to live in “gated communities” at least in the spiritual sense (though perhaps in the literal sense as well!).  That is not where God needs us.  In fact, we are needed in the hurting, broken, and messy world to be agents of redemption and healing.

As I reflect on these conversations and experiences at Whitworth I am struck by the fact that losing Daniel has resulted in so many experiences of grace.  People care deeply for us and are reaching out to us with so much compassion.  It is interesting to see how grace comes to us – sometimes it is surprising but it is always encouraging to know that we are loved and remembered by so many family and friends.  In fact, it is humbling and overwhelming to hear from so many people who remember our loss and want to let us know they care. 

In spite of all this love, at its core this is a lonely journey because it is so personal and so profound and we each experience in some unique ways.  Yet, we are somehow surrounded on our lonely journeys by a community of family and friends and amazing grace keeps coming through their calls, notes, cards, emails, Facebook postings, and more.