A cure or livng well with an incurable chronic disease?
We attended another program at the
Children’s Hospital bereavement services and that got me thinking about the ongoing
debate in my head – will I ever be healed, if being healed is the same as being
cured, or is my condition incurable?
Left to ponder our questions with no answers
We saw another one of Daniel’s
friends yesterday and caught up with him about his exciting summer serving as a
staff person in another city for a short-term mission organization. It is wonderful to see and hear about the
exciting things happening in the lives of all these young people, yet it also
brings Carol and I back to our bittersweet conclusion: if only Daniel were here and having those
same experiences! Oh, how we miss him
now more than ever!
This type of experience is also
hard since it leaves me feeling guilty – I don’t want in any way to discount
the beauty of the other young man’s life – he deserves to be growing up and
having these transformative experiences.
But, I also struggle with a sense of jealousy and resentment – why
didn’t my son get this same opportunity?
Why don’t I as his parent get to see him growing into this same type of
even more beautiful young adult man?
Why aren’t Ben and Hannah seeing their big brother take these new steps
into adulthood, blazing a wonderful path for each of them to follow in their
own journeys?
Of course, these questions have no
real answers. We are simply left to
ponder our complicated feelings, including the guilt and confusion that comes
when we feel the competing tugs among feelings of happiness for another,
jealousy for ourselves, and sheer agony over the person and experiences that we
are missing.
Honoring the Memory
Last weekend we did both the Dan
Burtness Memorial Climb of a mountain on Saturday and the Dan Burtness Memorial
Frisbee Golf Tournament on Sunday that some of his friends have now organized
for the third year in a row. Both
activities were fun and painful at the same time. Steve, Riley, and Mallory joined us four on
the climb of Quandary Peak – it was a great
day to be outdoors, our kids seemed to enjoy the activity and being with these
dear friends, and Carol and I did OK, in spite of the physical challenge of not
really being in shape for the climb up a 14,265 foot mountain. The frisbee tournament was more low key but very
pleasant, with Foote, Mallory, Elle, Hayden, Beth and Lyle joining us.
Both experiences remind me of how
amazing it is to have our close friends and Daniel’s friends still willing to
literally walk this journey with us.
Perhaps hiking up a mountain and walking around a local college campus
trying to throw a frisbee in a friendly competition are also meaningful since
they involve literally walking – taking a journey – vital symbols of the
greater reality we are experiencing together.
Most days are not easy and it is
incredibly important to me that we are able to do activities in which we
somehow remember Daniel and try to honor that memory – even activities like
climbing up a mountain or playing a silly game with plastic disks.
I am not even sure what I mean by
“honor that memory” but it feels right when we are doing and even when I am
trying to describe it. It feels like we
are trying to collectively remember how special this boy was to each of us, how
much we loved him, cared for him, and appreciated having him in our lives, and
ultimately, how much we continue to miss his presence among us in our lives
even now.
Holy Grieving
Another random (not really) thought
that has been recurring recently is the whole series of questions I am
contemplating related to what I would term “holy grieving.” Since Christians say that we believe we are
somehow created in God’s image, it seems to me that our basic human emotions,
and perhaps especially grief, are actually part of what makes us God-like. I need to think about this more and read more
about how God and Jesus grief in the Bible to get a better sense of my
developing ideas about this.
A Heart of Flesh
Finally, yesterday at Men’s Group a
friend shared from Ezekiel 36:26 and God makes this promise in the passage:
I will give you a
new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of
stone and give you a heart of flesh.
My friend shared where he sees God
at work softening and transforming his heart through many life
experiences. In response we shared our
thoughts on how this process is working among us. I commented that these words are the lyrics
from a song that Daniel was into when he died and which I have recorded and now
listen to often in my car.
For me, grief has been the catalyst
to soften my heart in new ways, though I know that I still struggle in so many
other ways with a hard heart at times in many relationships in my family and
with others. I don’t think that I have
ever experienced a heart that is any more “flesh” – human and open, even if it
is broken – than I have experienced since Daniel died.
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