A Year Ago Today...

March 26, 2012

On this date, at about this time, one year ago my brother and I shared our last communication on this earth. Regrettably, it was regarding the ultimately insignificant topic of an Ohio State basketball loss.

As Bobby drifted off to sleep, no doubt with some lingering disappointment and sadness regarding the early exit of what we had all considered one of our favorite Ohio State teams of all time, who could have possibly imagined just how powerfully and poignantly we could feel true and bitter disappointment.

The loss of a basketball game was suddenly relegated to its appropriate place, and we all came face to face with our mortality and the brevity of this life, in one shocking instant.

As Bobby woke to his eternal destiny, we were all left here to ponder, among many other things, how a life can be taken in such an untimely fashion? How can we begin to make any sense of it all? What are we to do with the feelings of loss and abandonment? How are we to process the anger and the confusion toward God? A God who is reported to be a God of love should not cause or allow such pain, should He?
 

Over the past year, much has been said, many tears have been shed, and countless questions remain. It is my belief that we cannot expect, nor should we even hope, to be free from the feelings that stem from such a loss. The question we should be asking should instead be; what to make of the pain?

I have accepted that emotional pain and spiritual confusion can be entirely consistent with trusting in an Eternal Goodness and an Ultimate Hope.

Our feelings do not define us; it is how we respond to them. The courageous soldier is not one who feels no fear, but the one who does his duty despite his fear. We must, therefore, use the negative feelings and pains to their intended purpose, which is to drive us away from reliance on this world for happiness and contentment, and instead to earnestly seek an eternal security that can be only found with God.

This is too weighty a topic to address in a few short words. However, the foundation of the answer can be found in looking to the One who has suffered on our behalf, to the God who was willing to humble Himself and take on the form of a human being so that He could draw us out of this world to an eternity in paradise.

“In bringing many sons to glory, it was fitting that God, for whom and through whom everything exists, should make the author of their salvation (Jesus) perfect through suffering.” Hebrews 2:10

It was our sin, our rebellion, our disobedience, that brought death and pain and sorrow into the creation in the first place.

He was willing to pay the price (the bounty, the ransom) to save a people who were trapped in this sin marred world, even when they were unwilling to ask. He did this so that death did not have to be a final destiny for any of us.

We begin come to grips with the fact that life will never be “normal” again. We realize that the wound will not be truly healed and that we must, for better or worse, become accustomed to a new normal.

 I take comfort that as Bobby awoke that morning, into an eternity that I trust is with Christ, He saw the face of the One who makes all things new. He saw the One who redeems our pain and sorrow for an ultimate good.

These are the promises to all those that will come to Jesus Christ. I have been comforted by the various signs and reassurances that God has been so gracious to give regarding Bobby’s eternal destiny.

At this time, if Bobby could speak to us, I am utterly convinced that he would urge everyone to make sure that when we pass from this life to the next, that we will do so into an eternity in glory. This only comes by trusting in the sacrifice of Jesus.

Whatever passions and cares Bobby had while in this world, I can assure you that they have now faded in the light of eternity. I know that he would want all those that he loved and cared for on this earth to join him.

However, this is not a birthright. We don’t get into heaven by default. We must allow Him to be the ruler of our life and trust in Him and His saving grace. That is my prayer for all people.

"Eternity" Disciple

[Verse 1]
All that is behind me, this mess of life
Where out of nothing came a beautiful design [1 Corinthians 1:26-28]
Know that I've had but a taste of a deathless wine [Matthew 26:27-28]
So I give up the flame to the hands beside
And I'll be waiting

[Chorus]
Where the desert is covered in roses [Isaiah 35:1]
Where I can outshine the stars in a single day [1 John 2:25]
The face of God isn't hidden [Revelation 22:4]
When I wake into eternity [1 Corinthians 15:51-53]

Where the shadows are never discovered [Revelation 22:5]
Tears are nothing more than a memory [Revelation 21:4]
Death isn't alive any longer [Revelation 20:14]
When I wake into eternity

[Verse 2]
Now I know I see it in your eyes
You knew at some point that we'd have to say goodbye [Hebrews 9:27]
I looked for this moment for all my life
To be caught away in the arms of God [Philippians 1:23]
And I'll be waiting


When I awake I'll see Your face
When I awake I'll see Your face [Revelation 22:4]

I don't know where he came from, but I'm glad he's here...

I've been reflecting on the drastic differences between children in the same family--same two parents, same upbringing, same gender, nothing in common.

How does this happen?

Jamey brought Jude (age 4) to work with him again on Friday, where he sat sweetly and silently for hours with nothing but some books and a few matchbox cars to entertain him. Jamey took him to a meeting and people were marveling at this tiny boy who could sit so still for so long, quietly sucking the thumb of one hand, turning pages with the other, occasionally smiling up shyly from behind his long, dark lashes.

I would love to take full credit for creating this masterpiece of (publicly) obedient boyhood. But I am also the mother of Isaiah, age 6, who has no brain/body connection most of the time and is prone to making startling and inappropriate comments in public places. Every Friday I sit with him in our homeschool Classical Conversations group and pray that he will make it through class without a major incident.

Usually, he commits minor infractions interspersed with mid-level distractions. One recent example was when he pulled the back of his shirt over the back of his chair, stretched the front of his shirt down over his knees, and then attempted to stand up. (Can't be done. Don't try it.)

He also likes to swing his head down between his knees and look at the children in the row behind him from under his chair. Sometimes he takes his shoes off and puts them on his hands. He falls off his chair at least once a week, usually more. He has shared the fact that he uses his siblings' toothbrushes sometimes, that he once threw up in the shower, and that his dad runs over frogs in the driveway "on purpose". ( Not true, by the way. Frogs are dumb and it is impossible not to squish them pretty regularly in the summer.)

His crowning moment this year occurred two weeks ago during Latin review, when he announced to the class (with an expression of complete incredulity) that he had forgotten to wear underwear that day. Such honesty! Such transparency! Such a lack of awareness of impropriety!

As usual, I blushed for him, apologized, and helped his tutor regain control of the classroom.

Yesterday was grandparents' day at the co-op. I sat right next to Isaiah in a very uncomfortable, toddler sized chair, ready to pin his arms to his side or even clap my hand over his mouth if necessary. I made sure that he was sitting by the sweetest, quietest, most docile girl in the class, thinking she might have a calming influence on him.

It seemed like a good plan.

Little Lexi was the picture of serenity--a tiny elf in a pink dress with a pink flower tucked behind her ear, dutifully repeating her memory work. Isaiah stared at her thoughtfully for a while and then, in a moment of silence, he blared, "Did you know that you have a flower growing out of the side of your head?"

Poor child. Every head looked her way, causing her to scrunch down in her chair and turn the same shade of pink as her dress. The various visiting Grandparents turned a stern eye on me, I began hissing, "Say you're sorry! That was NOT kind!" to Isaiah, and my mom began choking with laughter in the back row.

At least she got some entertainment out of it. Hopefully I won't get a bill for Lexi's therapy.

So after that, I moved Isaiah and myself to a new location at the back of the class. He did well there until we started on timeline cards, when he surreptitiously threaded the elastic waistband tightener on his jeans through a loop on the blouse of the girl next to him, and then buttoned her shirt to his pants. I didn't even notice until she tried to stand up and almost tore off her sleeve. Yet another golden moment in his career.

The silver lining is that I have become a lot less prideful about my parenting skills over the past six years than I used to be, and more tolerant of the parenting of others. For every one of Isaiah's challenges, he has a beautiful strength, and of course, I absolutely adore him. Someday--maybe in college-- I like to think he will sit through a class and not make popping noises with his lips. He will keep his hands to himself and he will NOT stuff his pencil into the mouthpiece of his tin whistle and break it off.

That hope is what keeps me from crying in C.C. every Friday.

A day at the park

Jamey and I (Sandra) took the children for a picnic dinner in the park tonight, and then stayed so the little ones could do the playground, and Jamey could try to smear the older ones at Bocce ball (it didn't work out so well). I sat on a park bench and watched my (not so) little crew in pure contentment. 

I hadn't realized before how much of each child's individual temperament comes out in their play. I guess I don't usually sit and stare at them for three hours straight.

Once again, I am struck by God's sense of humor. He must love a chuckle. Why else would He wire us all so differently and then have us live together in one big pile for 18+ years--or in the case of Jamey and me--forever! 

I am not complaining! How dull it would be if everyone were exactly like me. My lifelong challenge as a firstborn, perfectionistic, melancholy, type-A individual is to appreciate the characteristics of my second (or third or fourth) born, free spirited, laid-back, spontaneous children. And to see that in fact, their strengths are a perfect balance for my weaknesses, and that my strengths are needed to help bolster them where they falter. 

Beautiful plan! I hope to learn to live within it better. 

So here is a rundown of what I saw tonight. I'll start with 2 year old Keira. Her main goal was to run as far as possible, as fast as possible, leading with her head, followed closely by her belly, with feet churning furiously behind her, as if struggling to keep up. She was like one of those wind-up toys that just chug forward in whatever direction you set them down. 

 I pointed her to the little kids' play set, and she went right up the ladder on one side, down the slide on the other, and then forward across the playground to the big kids' play set, where she scaled up another slide (backwards), crossed a bridge and barreled down an even bigger slide. She turfed at the bottom--pretty hard--picked herself up and headed straight out of the park before being rescued by Jude. 

Poor Jude--such a careful, concerned child! He was a bundle of nerves on the playground because of the sheer lack of foresight exhibited by his siblings. He went between Kaiden and Keira, cautioning, "That's too high! Come down! Don't go to the edge! Mom! He's on the edge! That swing is too fast! Mom! Keira is by the swings!" 

I would have gotten up off the bench if anyone had been in real danger, but Jude was so solicitous, that I never had to move. He scooped Keira off the ground, and guided her past all the obvious (to him) pitfalls. Keira thanked him by shouting, "No!", pushing his hands away, and running in the other direction. Kaiden, busy conquering the highest heights of every piece of playground equipment (and then jumping off), also gave Jude palpitations.  

I think by the end of the night, Jude's opinion of my mothering skills had fallen a few notches, despite my efforts to convince him that no one had at any point been in true mortal danger. He did manage to play with the "dig-digger" for a while and was amused and distracted for a few minutes by a fellow 4 year old who had wet his pants on the slide.

Kaiden (age 3) was absolutely determined to master every contraption at the park--and he did, even though he fell off, and slipped through, and bounced off most of them at least once. Even the climbing wall and the fireman's pole were mastered. (Those actually did give me visions of a possible trip to the ER.) I have rarely seen tenacity like that boy possesses, and so young! May God use it for good. He really could rule the world one day. 

Isaiah and Christina (second born children, both) played bocce ball and took turns accidentally hurting their team-mates, and entertaining them. Both of them are loads of fun to be around--and also a little dangerous, due to occasional lapses in foresight:) But they are so creative and funny that you almost don't notice the breakages and injuries they sometimes cause. And they have giant hearts. 

 I heard lots of laughing on the bocce field (of which I am sure they were the cause) and I also noticed that they both took a long time to play with their younger siblings at the playground. Lovely!

Elijah (age 9) played on the swings for a while, and then left us for Nottingham Forest, where he spent the remainder of the evening battling rogue trees and boulders with his trusty...stick. He needs no entertaining because his world goes right along with him, wherever he roams. He loves us all and enjoys being with us, but the door is always open to his fertile imagination. Sometimes when I go outside, and he is lying on his stomach making eye contact with some bug or another, I will speak and he will look up at me like I am a strange creature a long way off and he is trying to figure out how to understand my language. He reminds me of myself at that age...and sometimes of myself at this age. I still visit Sandraland sometimes:)

And then there was Rebekah, dressed in flowing white skirt, with her hair up in a floral ribbon, floating above the fray, like a benevolent (and extremely patient) fairy--wiping mouths at dinner, pushing swings, giving gentle correction, encouraging every little climber, swinger, and slider, and finally, throwing her bocce balls with the grace of a ballerina. She managed to be everywhere at once, doing everything for everyone. I am still trying to figure out how to do that. 

What a nice evening! Jamey and I are truly blessed, and I can't wait to see what God does with all these little bundles of potentiality. May I see them all as He does, and parent them accordingly. 

Amen.