Been thinking lately about what I've learned over the last three years.

The number one thing I've learned is that none of us really knows as much as we think we do about God. If we did we would do a much better job of allowing God to draw us together rather than driving us apart.

I mean why should my understanding and opinion of what the Bible says be superior to my neighbors who don't happen to agree with me. I mean really each of us has come to embrace our view of God which was shaped largely by:

1. Where we were born

2. Who our parents were and what they believed.

3. The societal opinions of the day.

I saw an Archbishop of the Catholic church the other night on 60 minutes and I really enjoyed hearing his take on a lot of things but then he said that there are some absolutes that are not open for debate:

1. Abortion

2. Ordination of women in the Church

3. Celibacy of the priesthood

I'll be honest with you and say that I agree with the first one wholeheartedly, but I think the last two are opinions that are open for debate. I mean if celibacy of the priesthood is such an absolute why was it not the belief from the very beginning instead of coming later on in response to priest and other men of the cloth leaving church property to their heirs.

I am an ordained Baptist deacon and I can tell you from experience that there is nothing that will make believers circle the wagons quite as quickly as messing with their money. I have a feeling it is probably the same with the Catholics, the Methodist and even the pagans down the street.

So why am I rambling on about all of this religious stuff in a blog that is at it's core an exercise for dealing with the loss of my son.

It's because there is no part of my life that was as deeply affected as my relationship with God and fellow "Christians".

One lady upon meeting with my wife not long after our son's death had the following burning question to ask, "Did he know Jesus?". I mean how can you answer a question like that one for someone else, I cannot tell you with absolute certainty that I "know Jesus". I am trying to, and I want to more than anything, but have I succeeded in "knowing him" in an intimate way, I am not sure. You see there is a lot of things that get in my way. Things like:

1. My preconceived notion of what Jesus expects of me as communicated to me by my family while growing up (interestingly enough they no longer believe everything they told me to believe for all of those years).

2. The contradictory communication coming from everyone who professes to know exactly what knowing Jesus is supposed to mean.

So let me answer the ladies question once and for all about my son, and hopefully about myself as well, for I don't think the question was worded correctly. The question should never be whether or not I know Jesus, the real question should be, does Jesus know me.

I can answer that question for my son, Jesus knew him, and I think Jesus loved what he knew about Joel. That doesn't mean Joel was perfect, he wasn't. In fact I would venture to bet that Joel is right at home up in Heaven with the likes of Peter, and David, and if I do say so myself Peter and David are lucky for their association with him.

Been A While

It's been a while since my last post, I have never been too good at following through on things and this blog is no exception. But just wanted to update you on how we're getting a long and what has been happening since last I wrote.

My oldest daughter Rachel got married this year to a boy she has loved since she was first in high school, I wish I could tell you the date but keeping up with my own anniversary is more than enough for me. I know my wife said yesterday that it was seven months so I will take her word for it and go on. Rachel seems very happy and is doing well at work. I always knew she would be successful and being happy meets all my expectations.

My middle child Leah is still trying to figure out what she wants to be. The choices at this time are, soccer player, actress, super model, with a side of musician and singer on the side. I am sure whatever she decides to become she will make us proud, and hopefully be able to carry her half of the burden of supporting me through my golden years.

Leah is a junior in High School, which means I am getting old. My wife and children always fuss when I say I am getting old but there is no way to argue with the truth, and I wouldn't want to anyway. Being older has its perks. When you are old you can sit down when you feel like it and say what's on your mind no matter who agrees or likes it.

You can also stare at pretty women as long as you want to and they will never feel threatened, after all if worse comes to worse they feel pretty sure they can outrun you, even in four inch heels and a dress.

Waking up each morning one day older also brings with it the knowledge that you are one day closer to our ultimate goal. Don't get me wrong I am not suicidal or anything, I am as afraid of death as the next person but I know it is inevitable so I don't live my life in constant dread and worry. All this may change someday if a doctor brings me bad news but for now I stoically await the next chapter of my existence.

The one thing that perplexes me to no end is how I continue to age while my wife remains the same. She's as lovely today as she was almost 30 years ago when she took my breath away coming down the aisle at Huffman Baptist church. She says that I am looking through the eyes of love and my response is always, so what, I don't think a woman should have the right to argue with her husband on matters such as this. Your mirror will lie to you but your husband, if he is a good one, never will. See yourself through his eyes only, and your life will go well.

Now to the last member of our family, the one who is no longer with us, our beloved Joel. He is beginning his fourth year in heaven today and I feel quite sure he has already made a name for himself up there. I can only hope he has some idea how much he is missed down here. Every time I hear an engine roar to life I have to roll the window down and listen for a minute, I know that's what he would want me to do.

If I could have one wish this year I know what it would be. Not for gold or riches, not for health or fame, my one wish would be to spend five minutes with my son. I know some things that weigh on me that I would like to make sure he knows.

1. You know that plastic wallet you gave me when you were ten, I wish I had put it in my pocket and carried it for a while. I thought putting it in my briefcase to hold receipts would suffice but I could tell by the look on your face I was wrong.

2. That last day before you died when you asked me to go to the woods with you to shoot Zack's new gun, I wish I would have gone, what a sweet memory that would be.

3. That time you wanted me to meet you at the restaurant to meet the Christian motorcycle club and I told you I was too tired to go. I would give anything to change that memory.

Those are just three of the regrets I carry around with me, there are many others I am sure you can't recall but I remember every one. For everything I did with you and for you in your nineteen years with us, there are at least twenty that grief reminds me of where I let you down.

I might say those things to you but then again I am pretty sure they wouldn't come up, cause I am sure you would grin that big grin of yours, engulf me in your arms, and laugh when I can no longer reach the ground and no longer draw a breath.

If I could hug you for just five minutes a year, I think I could make it through all these other things.

There is a quote I heard one time that expresses my feelings.

"The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone" Harriet Beecher Stowe.

I have lived this quote for three years now, they have been my constant companion.

Until the next time, all my love.

Pops

It's Christmas Eve of the second Christmas without my son Joel. In some ways it seems like only yesterday I could hug him and tell him how much I love him, while in other ways it seems like all of that happened in a different lifetime.

Christmas was always special to Joel even more than other children. He held on to the fantasy of Santa much longer than others did, in fact he never really figured it out until his mother and I sat him down and came clean about the whole thing. We had to do it before he slipped up at middle school and caught all kinds of grief about it.

He was always our alarm clock on Christmas morning, waking his sisters and bugging us until we finally relented and got out of bed. The lined up for the entrance to the living room, taking turns being first, although I am quite sure Joel was able to finagle his way into being first more often than his sisters.

There was an infectious joy about Joel, he appreciated every gift, no matter how small it may be. I remember one year when his aunt gave him a gift that duplicated one he had already received at home. He never let on that he already had it, he gushed and smiled and thanked her profusely, he didn't want her feeling bad about her gift. No one really knew that side of him, he kept it hidden deep inside.

Oh don't get me wrong he could be as petty and selfish as anyone, especially when it came to his sisters, but there was always a part of him that really wanted the best for others.

I think that is what led to the tremendous outpouring of grief we witnessed at his visitation and funeral.

So as another year comes to a close without my beloved son I can only say what I said on the day he died.

A light has gone out in the world, it has become a darker and sadder place.

My only hope now is in Christ Jesus, that he has prepared a place for us in Heaven, and that some day I will once again place my arms around the shoulders of my son and hear him say in a booming laughing voice,

Hey Pops, you made it, let me show you something.

Hugs From Joel

First let me say for the record that I am a pretty skeptical person and do not see signs everywhere nor believe in ghostly apparations. My general view is that when you die you have no further contact with this world.

That being said there are times when we can draw comfort and encouragement from things around us, and it may be that God in his infinite wisdom is placing those things there for just that purpose. I have a friend who sees humming birds and penny's and see's conformation of his Mother's well-being, I have another friend who repeatedly see's a pair of crows and reads that as an affirmation that his parents are all right.

My comfort and encouragement has come in the form of hugs from unexpected sources. My son was a great hugger, big and burley with the strength of two he would embrace you and squeeze you with a warmth and comfort that few can match. Over the last couple of weeks I have received two very special hugs.

On the first occasion I was waiting outside my church for a meeting with my pastor; standing about twenty feet away was two mothers who had just picked up their children. One of the children who appeared to be about two years old was waving to me and struggling to get down from her mother's arms. When the mother finally put her down she ran straight to me and raised her arms for me to pick her up. I did so and hugged her after which she struggled down and ran back to her mother, who shrugged her shoulders in such a way that I felt certain this was out of character for her daughter.

The second occasion happened in the check-out line at Wal-Mart. I had struck up a conversation with a three year old boy standing in the shopping cart in front of us in line, asking him questions about the dog he was buying food and biscuits for, asking him his name and his age, when suddenly unbidden he walked across the shopping cart and put his arms around me and laid his head on my chest. It was a brief moment but it brought back many memories of my son doing the same thing.

I don't really believe that Joel had a hand in sending these hugs my way, but if we accept that God is our Father and that he cares for us as a father would, it seems well within the realm of possibility that he would see my pain and communicate to me that all is well.

So to my Father in Heaven I want to say, thank you, message received, All is Truly Well. And if by chance this communication can go both ways would you mind giving Joel a hug for me, and squeeze him extra tight, that's the way he likes it.

A Letter To My Son

To say you left us to soon would be to imply there would be an acceptible time to leave us.
To say we miss you would not do justice to the way we feel.
Your presence fills every corner of our lives.
Your smile,
your laugh,
your joy,
your love surrounds us always.
Your presence in Heaven makes it that much more important to us that we get there.

Hug Papa for me, scratch floppy behind the ear and keep sending me the hugs*, they're very special to me.

Love Always
Pops
* I will explain the hugs in a seperate post

A Happy Post For A Change

I realize that my previous three post have not been full of sunshine so I thought it was time to make you laugh. I'm sure Joel was laughing that big booming hard to ignore laugh of his today when he looked down from Heaven and saw me being led around the showroom at the Harley Davidson store on 119.

I've been in there several times but this was the first time I found the courage to talk to a salesperson and show an interest in possibly purchasing a ride. The sticker prices are quite shocking to say the least. My first home as a married person was a house trailer that cost half as much as most of these bikes and had one and a half more restrooms.

I am planning to take a class when I can on riding so that I can be prepared when a bike in my price range becomes available or some kind rider once again hands me a key and says here take it for a ride for your son.

I'm pretty sure that when the day comes that I'm actually aboard a street bike, and cruising; the sun will be shining, cause my son will be smiling, and that boom you hear will not be thunder just a well deserved laugh from my buddy up in Heaven. But I'll hear something else in my head, I'll be hearing "way to go Pops, gun it for me so I can hear it rumble".

What a Difference a Year Makes

Today is March 2nd and one year ago, unbeknownst to me I had only 19 more days with my son. How different those 19 days would have been had he and I only known.

There were disagreements during those 29 days, some of which escalated much farther than they should have. I spent very little time with him, and he spent very little time with me. It didn’t seem to matter to either of us then that our time together was limited, after all we had the rest of our lives to be together. We just didn’t know how short the rest of our lives really was.

Did I hurt his feelings during those last few days? I’m sure I did.

Did I ignore his needs during those last few days? As much as always.

Did I take the time to tell him how very special he was? Not nearly enough I am sure.

So how much have things really changed over the last year?

Do I still hurt my loved ones feelings? More often than I should.

Do I ignore my loved ones needs? More often than I know.

Do I take the time to tell them how special they are to me? Not nearly enough.

I realize that I am better than I was but still a long way from being as good as I should be.

But one thing has definitely changed. I no longer live in the blissful ignorance of believing in something called “the rest of my life’. I am painfully aware that the breath I just took is all there really is of the rest of my life. Each intake of breath begins life anew. There is no way to make up for how I misspent my last breath of life, I can only look forward to how I am going to spend the next one, and the one after that.

This is the lesson I learned from my son. And the glorious hope is that when all of my next breaths here on Earth are ended, he and I can take back up where we left off and begin anew in a place where we can really explore something called “the rest of our lives”.