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.

Thanksgiving

Yesterday was Thanksgiving Day. We opted for a quiet dinner, enjoying it with Brittney and our good friend, Nicole. My family joined us later in the day for coffee, desert, and games in the basement. Oh did I mention that I beat my brother, Wayne, playing pool? :)



While there were moments we missed David, we enjoyed memories of years past and the hope of enjoying a good meal with him again. I missed him sitting to my left. To be honest it was nice being able to focus on everyone else. I guess this is a part of developing our new normal.

What am I thankful for?

• My family and the joy of loving them and being loved by them
• The journey we have been on for the past 13 years with David
• The journey that still remains before us
• The ripples that continue to emanate from David's life and death
• The hundreds if not thousands of ways we have been loved on and served over the past several years
• The privilege of seeing the church, the body of Christ, at work as it cared for me and my family
  
• The rock solid hope of heaven and eternity
• My best friend and partner, Brenda. I am so blessed to have her as my wife
• Chris just got a job with BBN Technoligies (bbn.com)
  
• The joy of watching God shape and lead Daniel as he matures into a young man who loves God
• Knowing that God loves me and forgives me, no matter what I do
• The joy of knowing that our journey has motivated others to seek after God

I hope you took a few minutes yesterday to reflect on what you are thankful for. It goes without saying that I am grateful for those who have shared our journey through this blog. God's blessings on each of you.

Ripples

Yesterday was November 22nd, exactly one month since David's death. We continue to swing between extreme joy as we think about heaven and David's adventures there and the grief of missing him here. Thankfully the distance between these two extremes are slowly becoming less and less. There is no doubt there will always be a gap, but we are choosing to allow this gap to be a reminder that we are to live with an eternal mindset. There is a great verse in the book of Philippians that says,

Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, ¹⁴I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus. Phil. 3:13 & 14

The suffering David experienced, the physical challenges he faced, the dreams he had that were never attained are now in the past. We cling to the lessons learned and the model he gave us of a life well lived. No matter what obstacles got in his way he pressed forward. Heaven and the promises we rehearsed with him allowed David to press on. If David could do it, so can we. So we allow the gap between our joy and sorrow to remind us to strain toward what is ahead, to press on towards the goal to win the prize for which God has called us heavenward in Christ Jesus. I hope you are doing the same.

Over the past four weeks we have heard story after story of how David's life continues to impact people. His influence continues to ripple outward. We know of a father and daughter who have reconnected after years of being alienated, an old friend who felt like God had turned his back on her only to recently admit she had turned her back on God and is again praying, a business man who has started to boldly share his faith in Christ, and countless people who have begun to ask themselves what allowed David to make such an impact on so many. Please continue to share your stories with us. They are medicinal and bring us great joy.

Many have asked for David's article

The message Doug gave at David's memorial service was in part based on an article David wrote for a school project. Many of you have asked for a copy of it. Here it is:

My World Has Changed
I Learned That Life is Not Fair - But I Don't Have to Face It Alone Anymore

By David Pfohl

In the blink of an eye, in the drop of a minute, the way I look at the world changed.

For so long I have been very positive about my world. I looked at the good things and made the best of a not-perfect world. I was an encourager, a smiling face walking through the halls talking and chatting with everyone. Connections meant everything to me. I learned new ways to do simple things. I coped and always tried my best. I didn't pay attention to fairness. I was cheerful and happy.

Last week I started to look at fairness differently. I realized that I had lost more vision and started thinking, "This world isn't a fair world; it's an unfair, nasty world." I started asking God every day, Why?

I decided it was okay to cray to Him and my friends and not just keep it to myself. Some of my joy has been replaced with pain and sorrow.

It's really hard not to dwell on my loss when I see people on TV and other students playing sports. The only way for me to play baseball is in the backyard by myself, or sometimes with my dad.

When I hear kids talking about how cool it is to play soccer, baseball, and basketball, sometimes it makes me feel angry and jealous. Sometimes people take their sports ability for granted.

I would give almost anything to be able to play baseball. Now the only way I can feel a part of baseball is by sitting in the stand or listening to the TV.

My sight loss has cost me friends. The girls I know are really nice to me, but I wish I had more guy friends. With guys you can share your wishes for goals and tell them about who you really want to be. I really wish I had people to walk to classes with. this morning before school I thought, "Why do I always have to walk alone?"

One of the things about my life that is unfair is that people tease me. I'm not the only one who gets teased in this school. Treating people disrespectfully and teasing them is rude and wrong.

When somebody teases me, I get upset. Nobody can understand what I go through. Nobody can walk in my shoes. Nobody can cry the same way I do.

When a friend listens to my problems, it relieves some pressure. When I recently told two friends that I had lost more sight, they said, "I can't imagine how you feel." That was an honest answer.

Certain songs help me feel free. Music is appealing to my heart. A song like "Amazing Grace" is sweet because it reminds me that someday I will see again. I can't wait until I see again.

I still am the person who loves to encourage people and be happy, but now I need to share more with others. I carry a little more need inside. I don't need to do it alone anymore.

[David was a prophet, wise beyond his years. I hope all of us take to heart the closing line of his essay, "I don't need to do it alone anymore." We were created to be in community with God and with others! We are doing well. Brenda is finally getting over the flu, bronchitis, and an ear infection. I went back to work a couple weeks ago and Daniel is working at catching up at school. The house is very quiet. We are still getting used to this change. I promise to write more later. ]

I wonder what it is like??

It is hard to believe that it has already been two weeks since David went home to be with Christ. Sometimes it feels as if it were just yesterday he passed away and other times it feels as if he has been gone a long time. We often ponder what David is doing and thinking as he walks around unhindered by Battens or the weight of sin. I wonder if David was as excited as we were last night when the New York Yankees won the World Series. I wonder what he is talking about with my father or my niece, Melody. I wonder if he still has questions regarding his disease and the suffering he experienced, or did those questions evaporate when he gazed into the eyes of Christ. I wonder what exciting and meaningful work David will be engaged in until Christ comes back and heaven and earth are joined together. I wonder what he is singing or how he is worshiping God. I wonder what he is looking at with eyes that now function perfectly. I wonder what it is going to be like to sit down with David one day and discuss the journey we walked together here on earth. I wonder what he is eating and if there are bacon cheese burgers, fries, and coke in heaven. There are lots of questions which are fun to ponder but I realize we most likely will not have answers to them until we join David.

At David's funeral we handed out a little book entitled In Light of Eternity, by Randy Alcorn. It is a book about heaven. It has been a real source of encouragement for us. If you did not get a copy or were unable to attend the service please let us know and we will mail you a copy. Please don't be shy. We want you to have a copy.

We are often asked how are we REALLY doing. To be honest the answer to that question changes day by day, moment by moment. Thankfully we rest in the sure and certain hope of heaven. Thinking of David no longer suffering and being with Christ and being totally restored brings us true peace. What is difficult is dealing with the vacuum that has been left with David no longer being here with us. There is a huge hole that I don't think will ever be totally filled in. No matter where David was or what he did, he filled space. His laughter, his suffering, his child like faith, his love, his passion for life, his compassion for others who were suffering, his gentleness, his need for 24/7 care, and his smile filled his room, our home, and our hearts. But on October 22nd David left us leaving a vacuum that cries to be filled. We have been encouraged not to try and fill this hole for a while. We don't like it. But it is there and we need to embrace it as we walk this path of grief. Please continue to pray for my family as each of us deal with this grief in our own way.