4 weeks.....

Just know this.... we’re doing “better”.  But I do know this….the hole can NOT be filled….not even with God.  That’s a notion that reads well, but isn’t scriptural.  The fact is….there is a hole in our hearts.  That hole is the place that Dylan had/has.  The thing is, when he died, so did a part of us.  And that’s as it should be.  We must learn not only to LIVE with the death of our son, but also LIVE with the hole in our heart.  He can’t be replaced, and either can the place he had in our hearts.

The point is, that because we were 24/7 care-givers, this is more a part of us lost than expected.  It was our identity.  We were Dylan for him, so the loss seems even greater.  Hard to explain......

And….post-renewal theology and the “system” hold nothing for me.  Because….at times like this, one begins to experience Jesus in spite of the rhetoric of well intentioned clergy or the sustainability of “feel good” renewal-isims.  One’s health….this loss……that’s where the rubber meets the road.  The clever idioms of the church are the “shadow”.  The weight of the pain that drives me into the bosom of Christ….that’s the “substance”.

Hope......

So....2 weeks later....

Life has continued all around me, as I've felt in a bubble.  But I've come out the other side (for the moment) with resolve.  The following thought came to me yesterday...
"I've found hope where grief and grace collide".

As a writer, that is a well crafted phrase.  But beyond that, it is EXACTLY what has happened.  There is an intersection of grief and grace.  And in the cross-hairs of that intersection is hope. 
Hope is easily lost at the best of times, but in the death of a child, hope seems unrecoverable.  But yesterday...without warning...I found it....obvious....powerful....standing guard...waiting for me.  That's right...waiting for me. 

Interesting that the Bible speaks of "Faith, Hope, and Love", with the greatest of these, love.  The three dynamics are uniquely linked.  Sure.....over the course of this 2 week journey, I've had love and faith.  But grief is such a powerful emotion, that hope gets trumped by it.
I don't have much figured out.  I didn't have anything figured out 19 years ago when we began to navigate our life with Dylan. However, the lessons learned touched a world.....literally.  And so it begins again.

A couple at my church lost their 11 year old son in January. The mother contacted me yesterday to ask if I could get together with her husband, as he is having a difficult time reconciling this loss. So again, I'm called upon to "comfort those who suffer with the comfort I've been given".  Seems never ending.  And as always, I feel inadequate in the task.  But it's not up to me......

Faith, Hope, Love....they're all abiding in this old bag of bones.

God's a great, big, God...and He's really, really nice......

The Cat and Cards...

They say a cat has nine lives.  Well.....if I were a cat, I'm on #8.  This new life is as unordered as the previous 7 were.  I didn't choose the cards....they were dealt.  Played 7 games (lives) and it isn't until the game is over that you realize what a good hand you had.


5 of the 7 games (lives) ended in what was perceived as a loss.  But the cards were good....just not what I would have picked.  And....in some sort of self-congratulatory way, I think I played them well.  


So my 8th game.....I can no longer bluff.  I no longer have a poker face.  The cards I've been dealt are seen clearly on my face.  But.....I will win this game.  I'm a seasoned player now...


After this.....one game is left....one life.....but now I sort of feel like I have a young 19 year old boy looking over my shoulder, reminding me of lessons learned in Game 7.

The house is too quiet.  Quiet seems to be what I notice.  Someone sent me a note to say that when God called Dylan home, He whispered it so only Dylan could hear.  Game 8 is very quiet...

A Hole in My Heart

Just don’t know what to write.  It’s week one…an anniversary of sorts….1 week minus a child. My mind plays the Technicolor movie of walking into Dylan’s room to find him dead.  Most other memories are good ones, but that one is far too vivid.  And my guess is that it will never turn to black and white.  Each morning I awake with that film being run.

The odd thing about a tragedy like this, and the process, is that the one who experiences the deepest grief seems to be called upon to provide the greatest comfort.  I have held so many who have cried….providing them all words of comfort, while all the time myself, screaming inside, “Doesn’t anyone understand that this is excruciating to me”?

Auto-pilot….that’s what life is.  God?  Sure….He’s around.  But when you’re numb, you’re numb.

I was with all my remaining children for the funeral.  But I hate the term “remaining children”.  The thing is….Dylan is my child…not my ex-child.  I have 4 children.  1 of them has passed away.  My kids were/are healing.

I miss Dylan…his smile, his giggle, but I miss his smell….the feel of his body….to touch…..how he impacted my senses. 

I am lonely. There is a hole in my heart.  Many well meaning Christians will say, “Oh…God will fill that hole”.  That’s not true.  That hole is not fill-able.  The challenge is to life with the hole.  The hole isn’t meant to heal…it’s meant to be a part of the future.

If you have kids….do more…..