Category: my mom

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Reminiscing

It was a warm Saturday morning in 2006. The night before, my father had asked me to go with him to Summerville to watch his grandson, my nephew play soccer. After a week of dealing with middle school students, I really wanted to stay home and relax. However, it had only been a little over a month since Mom had died. My dad needed to be able to do this, and he needed me to do the driving. I don’t remember much of the conversation during the trip, except for him telling me that his sister had just passed away and the funeral was that day.

We drove to the soccer field and settled in to watch the game. I think it was a good game. I really don’t remember. We only saw the first half. At halftime, my niece and I headed to the concession stand to get something to drink. Dad had mentioned that he was hot and thirsty. On the way back, we noticed that there was a crowd of people around someone on the sideline where we had been sitting. As we got closer, we realized that the people were crowded around my father, who was on the ground. He was having a heart attack. An ambulance quickly arrived and the EMTs began to try and revive him. After what seemed like an eternity, they put Dad in the ambulance and headed for the emergency room. My sister and I followed.

I don’t remember how long we waited. Everything was a blur. Finally we were informed that the doctors had done everything they could do, but that Dad had died of a heart attack. We were escorted to a room where he lay on a table, and I immediately lost it. I had lost my hero, and in one sense I was now an orphan. I felt a sense of guilt for not really wanting to drive him to the game, and some relief that I had gone and had been with him on his last day in this life. The next few days were a blur, as arrangements needed to be made with a funeral home where my sister lived, the church here where my parents had been members, and the funeral home and cemetery in Maryland, where Dad was to be buried.

All of the arrangements were completed, and we drove to Maryland for a small service in the funeral home, followed by the burial. It was a mild, sunny day, in contrast to the cold rain on the day Mom was laid to rest. At the end of the gravesite service, when the casket was lowered into the ground and the machine was shoveling the dirt into the grave, I remember that my sister and I both thought of Dad peering down from heaven, making sure that the workers did their job correctly.

It’s been fifteen years. Our two children, his grandchildren are married, and I know he would be proud of them. There are four great grandchildren now, and i can imagine the joy he would get out of spending time with them and teasing them with his corny jokes. I’m trying to carry on that tradition, but my efforts pale in comparison. I still miss him. I think about him a lot, especially when I bump my head. I am thankful that I will see both my mom and my dad in the New Creation.

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Fifteen Years Already?

It’s hard to believe that it has been fifteen years since my mom went to be with her Savior. Mom had suffered from Alzheimer’s Disease for a number of years. Eventually she reached the point where my dad could no longer take care of her at home, no matter how much he tried. After a short stay in the hospital, Mom was admitted to a local nursing home to live out her final days. It was hard on all of us, but it was especially hard on Dad, who I believe thought that he had failed as a husband. Within a few months, Mom slipped away and we said goodbye.

As it often happens with a disease like Alzheimer’s, there was both sadness and a sense of relief. By the end, Mom didn’t know anyone or anything that was going on. She had gone from the sweetest person anyone could know, to someone else entirely. As her mind slipped away, negative things from her childhood came back to life. We knew that the one we were interacting with was not the wife and mother we knew and loved, so when she died we were relieved that her suffering was over and she was made whole.

I remember the funeral back in Maryland. It was a rainy day, and the song “I Will Praise You in the Storm” came on the radio. While bringing a fresh toreent of tears, the song also brought comfort. I knew that I could praise God in the midst of the physical storm and the emotional storm because the loved me and he loved Mom. She was now resting in his presence and one day all of the tears would be wiped away.

Over the years, the pain has lessened. That is only natural. I still remember all of the good times with a wonder, loving mom who would gladly have given herself up for her children. While I do remember the last couple of years of her life and the struggle it was, I can look back on it thankful that the Father carried me through that with the same loving arms with which he carried Mom home.

I believe that I will see my mom someday, and we will never have to part in tears again.

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Thinking

This is the beginning of a reflective, even somewhat sad, period. Those of you that know me, know that I tend to wear my heart on my sleeve and feel things deeply. The time from Thanksgiving to Christmas has always been an emotional time for me. Family is important to me, and family is what that time of year is all about.

Fourteen years ago today, my mother died from Alzheimer’s Disease. Thirty three days later, my father joined her. Thanksgiving and Christmas that year were tough. My emotions were right on the edge most of that time. Even though it has been fourteen years, there is still emotion. There is still a sadness, although the good memories are mixed in, in a greater proportion. In October, 2009, Jan’s mom passed away. That added another layer to the grieving and healing process. Jan’s dad left this life in May, 2016, so none of them are around to share in the family celebrations. They say that time heals all wounds. I’m not totally sure that is true. I think time can bring healing, but the wounds are never completely gone. I do believe that our pain and sorrow can be transformed, and we can be better for them.

The sad time, if you want to call it that, begins a little earlier now. Last week, our dog Charlie died. He had been a faithful companion to our family for the past thirteen years. While losing a pet obviously is not the same as losing a person, there is still a hole left behind. All of those things added together leads to good memories mixed with regret, to happiness mixed with sadness. Something will happen, or someone will say something, and emotions will be triggered. Certain dates become more important than others.

I am thankful that my heavenly Father knows all things, and is gracious and loving. I am thankful for the knowledge that our parents are resting with him and are not suffering. I am grateful for the good memories we have, and for what we can learn from the not so good ones. I can look back and see how things in my past have, in some way, shaped who I am today. As I go into this season, I can look back and see how God is truly working all things for my good and for his glory. I am grateful for that.

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Blast From the Past: The Story Continues

This was originally published in January, 2008. In the fall of 2006, my mom and dad had both passed away within a month.

I had lost my hero, my adviser, my example. That next Christmas was hard. The biggest thing about the celebration of Christmas for me had always been family, and now I was an orphan.

At the same time a group of us in our church had decided that things needed to change or we could no longer continue there. A few months before this, we had gone to two Sunday morning worship services. One was a traditional service and the other was a more contemporary service. The church was losing people and it was thought that if we provided opportunity for people to worship as they preferred, it would strengthen and grow the church. The contemporary service quickly became just like the traditional service, only with cooler music.

Our group of “revolutionaries” believed that we needed to approach “church” from a fresh angle. We agreed that the church needed to reach into the community around us. We began to meet weekly to set out a course of action and to plan the weekly gatherings. At first, things were moving in a direction that really encouraged me. I was an elder, and had agreed to become an elder in order to try and influence the church in a direction that was more “emerging”. Someone accused us trying to break away and start a new church. I said that I had no interest in planting a new church. (Famous last words)

As time went on I realized that the only way we were going to do what we believed God wanted us to do was to actually begin a new church under the auspices of the original church, with our own leadership. Unfortunately, there were a number of people in leadership, as well as other influential members, who wanted to have a say in what we were doing. We were accused of dividing the church and conditions were put on what we were doing. The conditions were probably good but they essentially put brakes on our efforts. As time went on, the enthusiasm for “doing church” differently waned and the worship service reverted to same old same old with cooler music. At the same time, there were positive signs, so I still planned to stay around and minister where I could.

Toward the end of the summer, I heard about a possible church plant here in Rock Hill. I was immediately intrigued. Some of you know Frank Hamrick. I contacted him and as we talked and got to know each other a little bit, God began to nudge me in the direction of helping in the plant. As time went on and I began to read and study, I became increasingly convinced of the need for a new church in Rock Hill. God continued to work on me, and by the end of December I decided to leave the current church and help Frank.

So now, I’m about to set off on another leg of my journey. Where this one will lead only God knows. If there’s on thing I’ve learned through the years it’s that no matter how much the road twists and turns, and no matter how dark things get, my Father is with me and is leading me exactly where he wants me to go. That makes the trip an adventure rather than a chore.

Should be fun.

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Blast From the Past: Still More

When we last left our hero, he was wondering what was going to happen next.

I was without work. I thought I was going to realize the fulfillment of a long held dream of coaching college basketball. So, I sent out resumes and waited. I talked to every coach I knew. And I waited. The summer came and went and still no coaching job. In fact, there were no jobs at all on the horizon. We didn’t feel free to move to another area because my parents and my wife’s parents had moved here to be near us and they were in declining health and needed our help. The search continued. As all this was going on, we had to give our Cocker Spaniel to the pound because he was old and had too much wrong with him for us to afford to have him treated. It was not a fun summer. About a week after we gave our dog away, I was out on yet another job search. As I drove past the animal shelter, I lost it. I began to pray, cry, and yell at God. I even cussed (I know that shocks some of you, but that’s the way it is). I told God that if I had anywhere else to go, I’d chuck this whole Christian thing. I realized that, like the disciples, I had nowhere else to go, that Jesus was the only one worth following.

In September of 2005, I was hired by a tour bus company to drive. I was glad because it would give me a chance to travel. As it turned out, the majority of the job consisted of leaving the house at 4:00 AM, driving to a National Guard camp eighty miles away, and shuttling troops back and forth from the camp to a nearby army base so they could be processed for active duty in Iraq. Most of the day was spent sitting on the bus and waiting for the soldiers to get their paperwork in order. I would usually arrive back home sometime after 10:00 PM. Because of this schedule, I usually only worked three days a week, so the income wasn’t real good. The company also had no health insurance for their employees.

At first, I wondered what I had done wrong, wondered why God had “put me on the sidelines”. I felt like I was in a desert. Sitting on the bus gave me plenty of opportunity to read, think, and pray. God began to teach me about trust and patience. He reminded me that he was the most important one in my life, and that my identity was in Jesus, not in being a teacher or coach. I began to rethink even more of my assumptions about God, church, and life. At the same time, God was teaching me increasingly to trust him. Jan and I saw God provide for us again and again.

In January 2006, I walked out of the desert. I was hired as a teacher’s assistant in a self-contained special education class at a public middle school. The kids I work with all have learning disabilities, some more severe than others. Many of them are from low income families. Quite a change from the Christian schools previously worked in, although not as much as I would have thought. Kids are kids wherever you go.

Also in January, both my mom and my mother-in-law went into a nursing home. Jan’s mom suffered a stroke, and my mom was suffering from advanced Alzheimer’s. Our ministry to our parents changed somewhat, as we were visiting our moms and essentially being there for our dads. It was hard to go into a place full of people who were essentially waiting to die and visit Mom, knowing that she would never leave in this life.

I’ll give your eyes a rest and write more later.

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Ten Years Ago

It was on this date, ten years ago, that my mom left this life and entered the next. Today we went to the memorial service for the wife of a friend of my father-in-law. As family members spoke of their wife and mother, my mind went back to that day when we said goodbye to the one who had given me birth.

It was a bit hard to hear others speak of their mother on the tenth anniversary of my mom’s passing. I thought back, as I heard the sons speak lovingly of their mom. While the last couple of years of my mom’s life were spent dealing with the devastating effects of Alzheimer’s, I can look back beyond that time to the person she was before the disease so cruelly took her away.

The thing that stands out most in my mind was the quiet, solid faith of my mother. She was not a theologian or one who taught great numbers of people. But, her life had an impact on me, my sister, our children, and many others. She was what C. S. Lewis would have called a mere Christian.

Jesus said that one of the defining characteristics of his followers would be their love. That was certainly true of my mother. She was known as one who loved. Her love for her husband and for her children was evident to all. Her love for others outside of her family was obvious to all who knew her.

Mom was kind and hospitable to all, and was generosity was well known. She was the epitome of grace and love to all who knew her. I pray that some of that was passed down to me. While the last years of her life were hard on her, and on us, I am thankful for the memories of a mother who kept the greatest commandments, who truly loved God and loved others.

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Repost: Even More

This was originally posted on January 15, 2008:

During a time of prayer one night in January, 2006, a friend told me that he saw me going through a time of winter. He saw snow swirling around, deeper and deeper, and wolves howling around the door. I thought, “Great! I just came out of the desert, and now I’m going to experience winter?” So, I was left wondering what was going to happen next.

The next few months were relatively uneventful. Mom continued to get worse and things were tight financially (but that wasn’t new). Things were unsettled in the church we served in. I felt a sense that things were changing, that God was doing something. What was happening, I had no idea, but there was a sense of anticipation and disquiet.

The year wore on, with Mom getting worse and worse, and Dad beginning to wear under the strain. In August, Dad had to make the decision to not do anything more to prolong Mom’s life, and we contacted hospice to come and help Mom be comfortable, and at the end of August Mom passed from this life into the presence of the Father. While we were grieving, we were also relieved that Mom was no longer suffering and was now more alive than ever. The next month was busy with helping my dad with some of the stuff resulting from Mom’s passing, and going with him to my nephew’s soccer games.

At the end of September, thirty-three days after Mom died, I drove my dad to a soccer game. The day seemed perfectly normal. Then, it all fell apart. At halftime of the game, Dad had a massive heart attack and joined Mom in the presence of Jesus. It was a huge shock, and something that knocked me for a loop.

I’ll try to finish this tomorrow.

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Three Years

It’s been three years since my mom was freed from her world of disease and pain. There is still sadness as I think back on that time. I know that she will never leave my heart or my thoughts, and I wouldn’t want it any other way. I still miss her. I probably always will.

The longer I live and the more I learn, the more I realize how profound Mom’s life really was. Dan Edelen writes here about the genius of ordinary, simple saints. That got me thinking about the influence that Mom’s simple deep faith had on me. She didn’t have any seminary training, yet she knew Jesus. It was obvious in the way she loved my sister and me, and in the way she loved other people. Her life was hard growing up but I never saw any bitterness or hardness in her. You could see in her that she knew her Savior, and that she wanted to be like him. We always went to conservative churches where there was a certain amount of legalism and judgementalism, but I didn’t see that in Mom. While she was by no means perfect, she was one of the closest to being like the Master that I have ever known. Mom was a wonderful example of simply living her faith out, and that went a long way to shaping me into the person I am now (at least the good parts).