2009: A Year to Remember!

2009 has been an eventful year to say the least.  Yesterday Brenda was reflecting on some of the highlights.  In January we spent a week in Bonita Springs, Florida.  We walked the beach, swam in Mom and Dad's pool, hung out in the hot tub (one of David's favorites), and simply enjoyed being together as a family.  All of us took turns reading to David from Passages, a series Focus on the Family produced.  He would rub his hands and legs in anticipation and anxiety, begging to read just one more chapter.

On July 28th Brenda and I celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary.  We found a cozy bed and breakfast in Rockport Massachusetts right on the ocean.  As we sipped a glass of wine and enjoyed fresh crusty bread with dipping spices, olive oil, and fresh olives provided as a surprise from our son Christopher, we rehearsed our twenty five year journey together.  I pray we are blessed with 25 more!

In August we went to Door County, Wisconsin for summer vacation.   We picked cherries, hiked, enjoyed cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents, slept late, and ate too much.  It was obvious that this was going to be the last time David was going to be able to travel this far.  While he was very limited in what he could do he enjoyed being with his family.  Our favorite part of the day on vacation is in the morning sitting out on the deck drinking coffee.  While David had lost much of his ability to really interact with us one morning out of the blue he simply said, Isaiah 41:10.  He didn't quote it he simply said the verse reference.  It was one of his favorite verses.  We looked it up and read these words,

"So do not fear, for I am with you, do not be dismayed, for I am your God.  I will strengthen you and help you, I will uplift you with my righteous right hand." 

In September Brenda and I went on a cruise to Italy and Greece to celebrate our twenty five years together.  It was a time to recharge our batteries, to celebrate our life together, and explore.  Little did we know it was also a time to energize ourselves for the three weeks we would have with David before he died. 

October was a month filled with great trial and pain but also ultimate release and joy as David's earthly journey came to an end.  His memorial service was incredible.  Family and friends served us and loved us.  It is hard to put into words how we experienced God's love and care through this time.  We miss him and even find ourselves grieving more now than we did when he first died.

We made it through our first thanksgiving and Christmas without David.  I think the anticipation was far worse than the actual days themselves.  We pulled in close as a family and celebrated.  There was a new strange mixture of joy, sadness, anticipation, old and new traditions, memories, laughter, heart ache, grief, and hope that permeated every corner of our home and hearts.  God was with us, strengthened us, and allowed us not to dismay.  Thank you David for reminding us that we do not have to fear!

For the past thirteen years I can't think of a time I didn't start the new year wondering if this is the year Battens will take David's life.  This year I don't have to do that and I am grateful.  David is where he should be.  We miss him but know we will see him again.  We rest knowing God was never once surprised by the events of 2009 and we rest knowing he holds this New Year in his hands as well.  We look forward to what adventures he has in store for us.  The journey still goes on!    

Merry Christmas!

It must have been cold.  No doubt it was dark.  Undoubtedly it was unexpected.  From out of the darkness an angel appears wrapped in heavenly light.  Terror fills both shepherd and sheep.  He was sent by the Father to share Good News; a Savior has been born.  News not just for the shepherds, but for you and me, for all people.   It was not to bring condemnation, but to bring joy.  He speaks to the shepherds and he says, "Do not be afraid."

So, we attempt to live out the angels proclamation to not fear, yet not always with success.

We have feared facing Christmas day without David's child like faith and love for Christmas. We at times fear the unexpected ways in which grief wraps it's tentacles around us, battering our tender hearts.  Sometimes as I talk or share with people about David I can feel my heart breaking, and I fear breaking down in front of them.  I fear the the potential negative impact of David's suffering and death on Chris and Dan. 

Thankfully I cling to another message given again by an angel.  The angel Gabriel comes to Mary to tell her she was going to give birth to the Savior of the world.  She of course ask the obvious question, "How will this be since I am a virgin?"
 

Listen to his response, "For nothing is impossible with God." Nothing!

If that is true, I have nothing to fear.  Christmas will be different but a time of celebration and joy.  When grief rears it's ugly head, we will meet it head on and cling to God's promise to never leave us or forsake us.  When my tear flow freely, I will will remind myself that even Christ cried when he lost his friend Lazarus.  When I worry about my boys, I will lift them in prayer before God, reminding myself that God loves them even more than I do.  I have nothing to fear.

I hope you too will discover the peace in knowing that with Christ there is nothing to fear.  Join me in joining with the angels in praising the birth of our Savior.
 ¹³ Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying,

¹⁴     “Glory to God in the highest,

and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests.” 

May his favor rest on you.

400 + cards and notes

Yesterday I sat down and reread the sympathy cards we received after David died. I wept, laughed, thanked God, moaned at some of the Hallmark poems, mourned the loss of David's presence in our home, remembered stories and times past, and prayed for the pain to lessen. I loved it and hated it at the same time. Each card or note was a reminder we are not alone. Each card was a reminder that David is dead. Some of the people who wrote I didn't know, faceless yet passing on their stories of how their lives intersected with David's, their prayers, and their sympathy. Without knowing it each person who sent a card became the hands and voice of Christ reminding us that we are loved, not alone, and that David is safely home, whole, and happy. To be honest I have never been very good at writing or sending a note when someone dies. I never really thought it was that helpful. I was wrong. I will do better.

The following are excerpts from some of the notes friends wrote to us. Listen closely and you will hear the voice of our Savior!

"David taught me many things. As I used to tell him, he saw way more than most people who could actually see. In so many ways he is the person I want to be. I can't begin to understand how difficult this walk has been for David and all of you. I think as I look back and say, why did this have to happen, why did David have to have this disease...I then look at all he is and how this disease probably made him the person he is and shaped all of you too...and because of that, how many people have come to either know Christ, know Him better or just see what an uninhibited and unashamed love for Jesus looks like. As I think about how God spoke to Brenda about the difference between our earthly tent and our heavenly dwelling, I can see how the extraordinary challenges, pain and suffering that was a part of David's earthly tent, was used to bring extraordinary glory to Jesus Christ. Despite everything, David showed a joy that was contagious and a faith that was unshakable. It transcends his physical circumstances and people knew that joy came from somewhere, and David told them where it came from."

"As I think of David's life, I am almost jealous. David was surrounded on earth by so many who cared about him - his school community, his church home, an extended family that loved him, and most importantly his two brothers and his parents. His parents poured Christ into him and it showed! When I mentioned his name anywhere it seems, everyone knows him and has a David story to share. Now he is with his Heavenly Father, seeing again, whole and no longer in pain. I look forward to my HOMEcoming and the opportunity to thank David in person for how his life and death encouraged me."

The following is a quote a friend shared from C.S. Lewis' book, The Last Battle, the closing book of The Chronicles of Narnia series: "And as He spoke He no longer looked to them like a lion; but the things that began to happen after that were so great and beautiful that I cannot write them. And for us this is the end of all the stories, and we can most truly say that they all lived happily ever after. But for them it was only the beginning of the real story. All their life in this world and all their adventures in Narnia had only been the cover and the title page; now at last they were beginning chapter One of the Great Story which no one on earth has read; which goes on forever; in which every chapter is better than the one before."

"On the day that David regained his sight, I Googled his name. When nothing came up I started to laugh and cry at the same time. What a strange thing that someone who affected so many lives doesn't even get one listing in the world's measure of success. Yet thousands are better for knowing him."

"You guys have been on my mind and especially coming up on the first Thanksgiving without David -- what pain and grief with his conspicuous absence. As I write these words, I paused, visited your blog and read through your entry from a few days ago. Powerful. I watched the YouTube and tears flowed freely, again. I read through the comments of what God has done since his passing, and marveled at God's incredible loyal love, his abounding grace, his furious love (a Brennan Manning phrase) and paused to know that he enters into your pain and loss. David's present state is that which gives us hope beyond belief, and is the only salve for your aching emotions. A season when cherished truths and theology embraces us in our pain. No, the Father embraces us with his strong arms of love and words of hope."

Thank your Jesus for your words of comfort and grace found in the epistles of our friends.

Is it OK to talk about David?

I have observed a very interesting dance that takes place when I come in contact with someone I haven't talked to since David died. It starts with a small shuffle of the feet, at times an awkward hug, followed by two vigorous pats on the shoulder or back if you are a man (that makes the hug manly), quickly followed by hands being stuffed into pants pockets or wrapped around their chest as if attempting to increase their body temperature, followed by an audible attempt to ask how we are doing but then realizing or thinking that must be wrong to ask so they apologize. I call it the shuffle, hug, pat, hand stuff or arm wrap, question and apology do see do square dance. And just like most of you didn't like having to square dance in high school gym class, I can't imagine you like this dance with me or anyone else who is grieving the death of someone they loved. So what do you do? Here are a few thoughts I have been ruminating on over the past couple months.

1) You have permission to ask us about our loss of David. We need to talk about him. It is a vital part of processing our grief. Sometimes we may go on and on about this story or another so be prepared. Sometimes we may start crying. That's OK. Don't tell us we don't have to be sad because David is in heaven. We know he is but we miss him and it hurts. If we say, I don't really want to talk about it right now don't push us. There are going to be some people we feel more comfortable talking openly with based on the depth of our relationship. Avoid the question, "How are you doing?" It is too open ended. Often that question makes me think a person feels they have to say something so they fill the awkward silence with, "Hey, how ya doin?" Often by you sharing a memory or story you have of David you give us an opportunity to enter into a conversation about David and how we are doing. You are not forcing us to grieve when you talk about David, you are simply entering into the grief we are already experiencing. I read the following a couple days ago in a booklet on grief someone sent us;

Permission is the key to finding a healthy walk through the grieving process. Grief is still a "prison of silence" that must be broken into by your friends,and out of by you.  This can only happen when both discover that grief is not an enemy to be avoided, but a  process to be followed.

2) Be careful of using theological mumbo jumbo. Just read the story of Job in the Old Testament. His friends poked him in the eye with theological truth that failed to touch the reality of his pain and suffering. At times I think people feel like they have to give God an out for allowing David to suffer with Battens Disease and then die. He doesn't need one. Isaiah said it well in chapter 55,

8 “For my thoughts are not your thoughts,neither are your ways my ways,” declares the LORD. 9 “As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.

Don't try to fill in the gaps God has chosen to leave unfilled or unanswered. I am discovering they are best left open. In fact often the questions we have don't even have an answer. C.S. Lewis wrote,

Can a mortal ask questions which God finds unanswerable? Quite easily, I should think. All nonsense questions are unanswerable. How many hours are there in a mile? Is yellow square or round? Problably half the questions we ask - half our great theological and metaphysical problems - are likely that.

Sometimes we couldn't understand the answer even if God explained it. Or God may have explained it in Scripture, but we fail to notice it or refuse to believe it.

Children don't understand why their parents won't let them stay up late, eat cookies in bed, or feed chocolate to the dog. They don't understand why we discipline them, make them clean their rooms, or take them to the dentist. One day when they grow up, they'll understand.

And so will we.

3. Be willing to be silent! Some of the best words of comfort have been an embrace where your tears stained my shoulder. Sometimes words are too loud, abrasive, like lemon juice on a paper cut.

Hope this has been helpful. I am looking forward to hearing your response.

What do I miss about David

I find myself thinking about David a lot these days. Sometimes a song will come on the radio and it almost seems to transport me to another time and space where David is still trying to sing his version of the song as he waves his hands to the beat of the song. Unfortunately the transporter fails to truly transport me and all I hear is silence. I walk by his room and I feel drawn to open his door and look in. It's still empty. In the basement sits his Christmas Tree, taped shut in a box, not to be opened this year. No blinking colored star, blue lights, and special ornaments. They too are sealed up, wrapped in tissue paper, sitting high on a shelf in the darkness of the basement, wondering if they will ever be hung again. Do we hang his stocking this year made by his Nana? Christmas music makes me think about David. As soon as Sunny 102 started playing Christmas songs, way before Thanksgiving, David was already listening. They sound a little different this year, a little flatter.

I miss him so much. Even though I often would complain about the noise level in our home with so much going on, I miss it. I miss hearing Adventures in Odyssey, country music, phone calls, aids sharing life stories and adventures with David, and base ball. I miss going for ice cream, eating breakfast at Dave's Diner, hanging out in the hot tub, or watching Annie for the 30th time.

One of the things I miss the most is just holding him. I loved hugging him. While he was 20 years old, he still let me hold him, rub his back, and run my fingers through his hair. He hated thunderstorms so I would often climb into bed with him, hold his hand or simply rest my hand on his shoulder. I can't do that anymore. He was soft and cuddly. He was like the Pillsbury doe boy. But the softness is gone.

In the book, Lament for a Son, a father who lost his son writes the following words after they had buried his son;

"I catch myself: Was it him we laid in the earth? I had touched his cheek. Its cold still hardness pushed me back. Death, I knew, was cold. And death was still. But nobody had mentioned that all the softness went out. His spirit had departed and taken along the warmth and activity and, yes, the softness. He was gone."

I miss David's softness. As I shaved David for the last time and dressed him before he was placed in the casket, I knew David was gone. His softness had departed. I look forward to feeling it again. I miss you David.