I attended two memorials within a few days of each other--both the honored--young, in their sixties. One took place in a beautiful church on a hill in which the deceased served and worshipped. The other, in a small room, the 2nd floor of the mortuary, a few folded chairs barely filled.
For one, his ashes rested in a beautiful crafted wooden box, I am sure he made himself, since he did that. The attendees sang more than appropriate hymns together, "Be Thou My Vision," and "Amazing Grace." The other, a viewing, his shrouded body flanked by a collage of pictures and a spray of beautiful red roses.
One was a Sheriff's Deputy, the other a Chiropractor by profession, both involved and committed to serving their community and people without compromise.
One received a diagnosis of cancer in April and lost the battle in a few short months.
One suffered for several years with failing health.
Honored by many of his friends, pastors, colleagues and family, Ron, my cousin, received a passionate display of memorial speeches and a tribute to his heroism. We felt in awe of what he accomplished and gave. A "casket guard" represented by the Sheriff Dept., --in this case, an urn guard, each fully uniformed officer stood their allotted time next to the table where his ashes rested, in ceremonial respect and honor.
A service prepared by a minister he never knew, Walter, my friend from high school probably smiled from heaven as the minister shared from the Book of Genesis, his heart wanting to give us hope. Walter never wanted attention, always caring more about what you were up to. Leaving that room, we proceeded up a long hill, a procession following the hearse to where the burial ceremony continued, over-looking the valley he grew up and served his patients in. Arriving there, several more friends from high school enlarged the crowd. Below his dug grave, the burial section of children. Their headstones recently decorated for the fall season, aglow with marigolds pumpkins, mums...it gave that tangible melancholy--a feeling of hope lost. A choir of angelic voices, I'd like to think, welcomed my friend to his heavenly Home. In that we remember that God is the Giver of Eternal Hope.
Walter, bottom left with dear friends from High School, our annual reunion picnic.
Yes, both memorials were different, yet in death, we are all at level ground. Eternity and our legacy lifts us up because of our love for God, demonstrated in service and kindness to others. Their memory etches a hope eulogy in our own interactions, for us to remember who they were to us forever in the tombstones of our hearts. It should inspire us to do something with that dash in our life's journey, the dash that holds a lifetime of who we are in Christ and to this broken world.
May 3, 1954 ~ .... That dash represents my legacy. What will it be, what will yours be?
My cousin, Ron, my friend, Walter...their dashes, their selfless lives touched me and many others. I want to share two stories as I remember them, being told at each service.
Ron, trekked to Mt Everest in the Himalayan mountains of Tibet. An extraordinary athlete, this accomplishment is no ordinary endeavor. As you may have seen in documentaries or news stories, when climbing Mt. Everest, one is accompanied by local mountain guide called a Sherpa. Ron, being a friendly, very talkative man, struck up a conversation with one Sherpa on the journey. A topic came up about goals and dreams, an obvious, easy topic since Ron at that moment made a big check on that bucket list. The Sherpa ( with the help of translators), expressed to Ron that his goal in life was to be an "ancestor." In his culture, to achieve that, he needed to own property, a parcel of land. I don't know the details of how Ron made that happen, but he gifted his Sherpa after the climb with the amount he needed in his country, to make that purchase and achieve his dream, to become an "ancestor."
Ron and THE mountain!
At the graveside service of my friend, Walter, as mentioned earlier, many more appeared on the hill, fellow classmates of mine and Walter's from high school long ago. While the pastor said a few more words, there remained some missing statements about the man, Walter. These friends from high school, were quick to give Walter the praise and honor he deserved, share their anecdotes and love. One story I wish to share here.
Just out of high school and entering junior college in the fall, Debbie and her friend needed jobs. Seeing an opportunity to work in a factory, the excitement and impulsive urge created by the need for sustenance, made them eager to get hired. Hearing of this, Walter was not too certain this sounded like a good thing. Not in the best part of town, Walter insisted that he pick up both girls and drive them to the factory to do the paperwork. He then arranged to take them as well, their first day, which he did. Did I mention they were working graveyard shift? Not only did he take them, he waited in the parking lot all night for them to finish their shift and make sure they got home safe. After a few days, the girls realized Walter's wisdom and quit. Who does that?--waits all night long, sacrificing their own time to make sure their friends remain safe? Walter did. As I got to know him more in our adult years, he shared one of his greatest joys, attending church at the Salvation Army, here in Ontario. A humble place and somewhere he knew he could serve God quietly and kindly, he did that and I saw that joy, that Holy Spirit within him when he talked about that experience. Walt also poured his life into his girlfriend's son, helping him to achieve his goals of entering the Armed Services. That became very evident when meeting Brandon at Walter's service. Walter loved deeply and unselfishly, a legacy filtered now into this young man for his own future.
No one knows the time, the place, the when or the where, the how...What I do know is the who.
Who will be impacted by my legacy? What kind of legacy am I leaving, presenting? Does it reflect the God I serve? Am I making a difference for the Kingdom? Am I bold enough to climb a "Mt. Everest" of negativity, culture changes and untruths? Can I persevere when the world and craziness permeates every facet of life? Can I continue to write and give testimony of the legacy of Grace? Only in His strength, I can.
Both my cousin and my friend pursued righteousness, right living. Both believed with all their hearts in the One True God and His purposes, to love God and love one another. Every day we make a choice--to live defeated or to live empowered. Trials come, but God promises that He walks with us through them and in that our faith strengthens, our legacy grows. In this Thanksgiving season, let's start with gratitude. Thank you God for the gift of Ron and Walter in my life. A grateful heart heals a broken heart etched with too many disappointments and sorrow. Heaven gains saints every moment. How can we invest in lives resulting in an eternal difference, a legacy rewarded in His perfect timing and providence? Be Still and Know.
Many listened to him in those wee hours when the hospital is quieter and some try sleeping. That's when he seemed to ramp up the dialogue, and that chosen attentive night nurse came into his room only to stay awhile longer, listening, as some nurses did so well, a skill not requiring a college course. Tim, my sick son, met several of those along his journey to find the cure and/or the doctor who'd make him his priority.
The Blood Clot...
It first showed up many years prior, at the age of 11 or 12 I think. This unknown sharp distraction for Tim, nagged and puzzled many and they (professionals) could not quite put their finger on it, give a diagnosis for that certain pain he had in his neck. A pain in the neck...to name what aggravated him, what caused his crying out. Finally, almost 3 weeks and many tests, by default and a favor from a friend, we went to another county, a new hospital where an ultra- sound detected it. That Blood Clot...almost gone by this time, lodged in an artery in his neck, the carotid of all places.
We dealt with his chronic kidney condition and other issues through the years. Then, at 19, legs swinging from his kidney doctor's table, he described his chest pain, telling the doctor that he thinks a blood clot invaded his lungs. He TELLS the doctor because he knows this pain.
Tests the next day confirm it, pulmonary embolism, aka, P.E.
From that day on, Tim's blood tests became weekly and a new prescription, a blood thinner, became another part of his medical regimen. He'd be in and out of the hospital the next 6 years.
Looking deeper
Tim met a new doctor, one that wanted to take another look at his problem with blood clots. A genetic factor for clotting became the topic of discussion, something called Protein C deficiency. Tim discontinued the blood thinner meds for a brief time in order to get an accurate blood test. The findings indicated he DID "have some sort of genetic predisposition to clotting," said this doctor. Others were still not so sure.
Skeptics...and time ticks and then it doesn't.
In a few short weeks we'd be planning his memorial. I remember thinking at the time, thinking a lot of things, but in particular this, none of this matters any more...
He died physically, a horrible way, broken, bleeding and unable to breathe oxygen into his lungs on his own. But a spiritual death never occurs because of the blood of Christ and in that, my son lives forever and we will see him again.
I am a Believer and time is Eternal.
Ten years later, here we are. Healed? Yes. Comforted by Amazing Grace? Yes. Knowing a sovereign and Holy God in a deeper and very personal way? Yes. Wanting to tell his story and my story...God's story all the time? Yes.
And then we hear those two awful words in an ultra-sound room again, BLOOD CLOTS.
Three clots wait in the on deck circle behind Ted, my husband's, knee. Two others already traveled up to his lungs. It all comes flooding back, the pain, the fear, the questions and the silent stares/prayers of my heart.
What in the heck did I...we just hear? Lord...get me together before I climb through this wall.
Before Ted is officially admitted to begin treatment, I relayed a brief history of our son, his "almost diagnosis" of a hereditary clotting issue. Would they check these same factors in my husband's blood before they begin him on blood thinners? They agreed these tests should and would be done.
This last week, we visited a new doctor in Ted's growing medical community, a hematologist. He will be taking care of Ted's needs concerning the clots as well as the coagulation clinic.
In his gentle and caring heart, the doctor looked over at me, leaned in and said these words..."I want to know your son's story."
I've been telling his story, our story for 10 years now.
I knew he meant medically, but so much more filled up that space between us in those few seconds---never just one thing. Breathe... I feel the spiritual, His Presence. An egg of my womb and my husband's seed created from love for love, if only for a season, but always, always for a reason.
I want to know his story...
Though it is not protein C deficiency, a gene mutation involving clotting factors lies on Ted's DNA and most likely did on Tim's as well. Confirmed by a doctor who barely knew Ted much less Timmy, he took the time to explain many things and listen to Timmy's story.
Ted will remain on blood thinners for life. We remain to tell the story, write the story.
I walked back to the parking garage. Ted waited in the front for me to pull around and get him, standing with his walker, his new knee, his infected wrist and his 5 blood clots. My heart heavy and my mind thinking on all this, the emotions began to rise up in my throat but did not quite reach my eyes, but close. You're still so close son...
An unknown, a maybe, now turns to a known, a yes, another reason...my heart is back-tracking and wanting to blame...If we knew earlier, if someone had asked questions when he was 12...if only...
That's where the liar, the accuser wants me to linger...but God sends a song to counteract the attack.
I turn the key and the radio blasts one of my favorite Christian artists, Jeremy Camp singing "Overcome." It is where the lyrics happen to be as I am thinking and almost crying...and the engine starts...but Jeremy's deep voice sings...
"We will overcome, by the power of His blood and the words of His testimony..."
The Blood...it has power! The Blood, it overcomes, the words of our testimony...they will supersede! Peace passes over me, through me, like a blood flow, that peace I know from God that He heard my heart cries even when I wasn't even officially praying. I want to know your son's story...God is so good.
The next day I am telling this story to my dearest friend. God clears my head once again and shows me His Light. Tim may have received his news too late, but Ted did not. Even after 10 years and moving past, Tim presented his father, his brother, his cousins, his uncle...all of them a gift. Genetics usually happen the other way around, the father relays a flaw, a mutation to the child. But our son, 10 years past his arrival in heaven, lets his dad know, so his dad can live, be prepared, OVERCOME!
Power in the blood, the blood that might tend to clot. And now we know and can treat it.
Power in the Blood, and now we know and can be forgiven and set free and live forever in Heaven.
Power in the Blood, because love lives on and testimony and story needs to keep flowing and demon clots need to dissolve. Strength and resolve sometimes come from the fight, but the spiritual battle belongs to the Lord. Now we know we can overcome.
And we will. Thank you Timmy for fighting a good hard fight. You didn't have all the answers but that never stopped you from trying to find them. You were on a good road, on the edge of a break through, maybe not a cure but some answers, even way past your time. You never knew for certain, but we know now. Thank you for pointing the way, even 10 years later and letting us know God is always in control. Thank You God for loving us, grace poured out and received for those who believe in the power of Your blood.
Hospital waiting rooms. Pretty self-explanatory. You sit. You wait. News comes, either good, bad or indifferent, but you have to sit, and wait...in the waiting room.
I slept in a waiting room; yeah, I did that, over night and into the next morning, and the next, not even realizing time did not wait.
I heaved big sighs and prayers, sobbed uncontrollably, stared at walls and people.
The waiting room is now the trauma ward...
I felt the life blood drain from my head through my stomach in a hallway, outside a waiting room, in a hospital.
Ten years later, she walked me back to see my husband, prone on the bed with wheels that soon moved to a different room, a surgical room. ...a room of blood, cutting and repairing. We chit-chatted; I'm trying my best to calm his nerves. The nurse, we found out, with her cute Eastern European accent, knew a friend of ours from the same ol' country.
What a small world.
The world is small and full of waiting and wondering rooms.
Prepped and ready, the nursing staff moved my husband as I walked alongside. He headed for his surgery. Conscious and fully aware of his destination, that difference seemed to make a difference...this time. We said our good-byes.
The other time... I kissed his cheek, wiped his forehead, my fingers combed through his hair. I watched as my son's bed with his comatose body pushed through the middle of those double doors, which opened way too easy, for all to disappear behind them. Then I waited.
The nurse walked me back to the waiting room. She asked, "Are you okay?"
I hadn't said a word...how could she know?
"Yeah, I'm fine...just some memories of another time when my son died in surgery."
I didn't mean to say that much.
Curious, she prodded for more and I obliged. I really didn't want to.
But, I did.
I resumed my position in the chair in the waiting room. My sister and brother-in-law were there too.
Now we wait.
We managed small talk to pass the time and keep the thoughts at bay. But really, I am thinking of you, son, and waiting and grace and growth, of trusting and You and us--all of us in this small world, this waiting room in Your bigger world.
My brother-in-law noticed it first. Outside the glass doors across the hall and outside a glass wall, it hits the window over and over to get through. He nudged my sister and she relayed what she sees as my back is opposite the wall.
A butterfly is trying hard to get inside...make himself known...be seen by those waiting. I turned 90 degrees and looked out. I see it, a large yellow and black Tiger Swallowtail, two stories up, in the trees, flying into and against the glass window. I grabbed my phone without saying a word, walked out the glass door and entered the hallway. I tried to find my camera button and focus.
It met me there for those few seconds as I fumbled with my phone. Then it flew up in the trees again, swooped down on the other end of the window wall. I hoped it would come back, but it completed its mission, delivered to me the remembrance of His grace, His promises.
Holy moments happen in waiting rooms.
My only picture, a memory shot, and then there are two witnesses.
Those who wait in waiting rooms become witnesses of life and grace and love. Do they realize it?
I am reminded of a story of two disciples walking to a town called Emmaus, about 7 miles out of Jerusalem. Their conversation maybe contained small talk, but they also spoke of their Messiah, His recent crucifixion and their fear, their broken hearts, their memories. A third man appeared on the road and conversed with them as they walked, speaking of the promises of the Scriptures. They continued the conversation, a bit amazed at the words of this man. Arriving in town, the three began to eat together, the stranger breaking bread and blessing his friends...
Luke 24:30-31 "And it came about that when He had reclined at the table with them, He took the bread and blessed it, and breaking it, He began giving it to them. And their eyes were opened and they recognized Him; and He vanished from their sight."
The day before my husband's surgery, I broke bread, took of the cup, in an intimate gathering of four special friends. Our desire, to understand our own brokenness more and be the Good because of it.
He became broken for us to make us whole and good.
A butterfly comes to offer me communion. A remembrance of the good that came out of my broken self in the grief, the waiting, the seeing and the transforming.
As I re-enter the waiting room, in that moment, I am filled with His love for me. In His amazing grace, my eyes and heart once again widen, open, and I trust Him even more in that moment, for He is good. I sat at an angle, seeking the angel messenger, wanting to see and taste the Communion again. I know I can take that with me anywhere at any time. In my humble need for Him, He lovingly makes Himself known.
In a few more minutes, that pass so quickly for I am elated, the nurse tells me it is done, my husband is in recovery and the doctor will make his way to talk to me in a near by private room.
I can never keep the miracle of grace private...
A recovery room, a place where we receive our breath again and the reminder that we survived with mercy and a new perspective. We gladly take the instructions to build our strength and then, we reunite with those we love. And though I do not physically eat of the bread and wine, I feel the Communion in that room, a room now filled with a prayer of Thanksgiving.
A butterfly waits for his directions and I am sure makes his appearance outside someone's hospital room, maybe a new mother, holding her precious newborn in her arms, or a nurse needing revival after a 12-hour shift, or...
somewhere broken, where the Good can be reborn.
Broken Hallelujah
The Afters
I went back today and took pictures of the place where we held Communion in thoughts for those few seconds, for those few Holy moments in a waiting room. The door holds printed words that read: THRIVE.
That is the chair I sat in, the Communion window-table to the left.
To the Hopefuls, I'd like to share these words from the New Testament, Philippians 4: 8. the Apostle Paul's advice and wisdom for his day, applicable to this day.
Finally brethren, whatever is true...
Emotions, evident this week on faces of grief and shock at the tragic death of two young soccer coaches and two other young lives, to exhilaration and pride at graduation, to thankfulness and anticipation for the next years after retiring from a long and satisfactory career in teaching, swing from one side to the other.
Life is measured in moments, some sad, some happy, some overwhelming, some celebratory, some unforgettable, some lodged in our memory forever. At 18 years of age, awareness of these very feelings may give us a tinge of fear and excitement for the future, anticipating more of life. In this day, this time, I take from Scripture these words from the Apostle Paul in Ephesians 4 as sound advice, goals to work towards. I pray for you, faith in the journey.
We feel, provide empathy, compassion, stand tall in pride, satisfaction and gratefulness. Our truth settles in. Some things are good, some things are not, some things are very hard, some things we just take for granted, some things fill us with hope and joy! The Apostle Paul tells us to dwell---to dream on the Truth, to seek it. Life is also fleeting, unpredictable. Try not to take anything for granted but live as if everything is a wonderful gift, even if it is only with you a short time. Be Truth among the false realities of so many. Rise above.
Whatever is honorable...
Congratulations graduates of 2017. I hope you received your diploma with pride and I honor you for your achievement. My hope and prayer for you is that you use the rights and freedoms you possess as a citizen of this great country, in an honorable and respectful way in return. God gave us minds to think for ourselves, to seek truth and justice and to live by those very same principles in accord with one another, even those we may disagree with. Honor those around you and respect others. Build relationships and in that, people will hopefully respect you for your own passions. In that, God enlarges your surroundings and places you in opportunities to make Him known. Learning to trust in God comes from taking those tiny faithful steps. Integrity is who you are when no one is looking. Keep the faith.
Whatever is right...
Discernment--something I ask God for every day, to know which direction, which word, what is true, what is honorable, what is the right thing---and most importantly, what is not. God also gives us people in our lives to dialogue with, to help us discover the right way. God's Word is infallible and true. God is good and righteous. Everyone makes mistakes, chooses wrong, has regrets. Forgiveness is right, trying again is right. It brings us closer to God, the One who makes all things right. Keep trying and learning. Strive to be right. God covers all our wrongs. Be that same grace for others. Believe it for yourself.
Whatever is pure...
Allow God to filter you. You will know what to leave behind, who to leave behind, who to add, what to add, how to grow. Start fresh, new every day with a grateful heart, and a prayer to be worthy of His love. He sees us as pure through the blood of Christ. If we live defeated by our problems and situations, that does not reflect the Light within us. Plant your feet in one place, don't straddle, be double-minded. You won't please everyone, learn to see eternally. The enemy is real. Keep vigilant. Be in the the world as His follower but not of the world. Allow God to do your battling. Victorious now and forever, your belief brings you in the winner's circle. What is filtered out can now be used for His glory, your story. Fly above the crowd and seek the right sustenance. Purity is healthy living. Live Pure.
Whatever is lovely...
Every day I am greeted by one of my special needs students, "Hi pretty!" Greeting all the girls, women on campus that way, I know how it makes me feel, that I am glad to be there, that she loves me and knows she is loved. Gardening, a passion of mine, I see the lovely in every new unfolding bud or swell of a fruit. It starts as a seed planted, and then nurtured to grow and give back. To be lovely is not about the external, but the internal, what our thoughts are, again, what we are dwelling on, dreaming of. Fill your mind with thoughts of love, of kindness, of service. To pray for one another--that is a lovely thing. To pray for those against you, that is even more lovely. God smiles and nods, "My beloved, I adore you and promise to never leave you nor forsake you." Isn't that just lovely?
What ever is of good repute...
What do you associate with, fill your mind with, hang out with? There are a bunch of apps that will give opinions on things, Yelp for instance. Even our local community Facebook pages stream with experiences good and not so good, neighborhoods to watch out for, teams to pick for your kids and schools to attend, churches that are friendly. Maybe the high school experiences and choices left some notches, some scars, some things you think can't be erased. Good reputations and character are built over time. Choosing to follow God, He transforms more than just the heart, but can and does erase the past and make all things new. Be someone reputable. Encourage one another in that same goal. We are all a work in progress.
Be excellent, worthy of praise...
Everyone wants to hear those words, "Good job!" God tells us to do our work as if we are working for the Lord, and actually we are. Everyone likes to be appreciated, thanked and given good feedback and comments. Constructive criticism, correction and positive suggestions all help us to grow. Be wise in listening and considering and then always pray and ask to be mentored, sponsored, taught, discipled. That is the way towards excellence. No one starts at the top. No one climbs up the mountain by themselves. Praise Your Maker and give thanks to those that walk beside you. Humbleness and gratefulness go together, an example of a leader and a difference maker is one who recognizes the importance of teamwork. Spend time in worship. Alone time with God finds excellence in the making. Prayer changes you. Worship anoints you and glorifies God. Draw near and He will draw near to you. (James 4:8).
Finally, in verse 9 of Philippians 4, the Apostle Paul tells us, "the things you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, practice these things and the God of peace shall be with you." In that, I wish you peace, dear graduates, peace in your heart and to be a peacemaker in word and deed, for in that, true success comes and multiplies out, one life at a time to a whole new generation of hopefuls.
God Bless you,
Considerably, Coleene
P.S. It took me a long time to learn all these things. I am stubborn. I pray you will trust earlier and gain perspective on the eternal prize from the get-go.
