Something

      Months before our son died, I had planned to attend one of my niece's band concerts before she graduated from Northwest Nazarene University in Nampa, ID. When her last band performance turned out to be only a month after Tracy died, we seriously considered not going. Having survived the arrangements and memorial service, but still slogging through shutting down accounts, dealing with his possessions and legal paperwork, we did not know if time away would help or hurt. In the end, we decided to go. Just as we still gathered for Easter dinner and will do the same for Tracy's birthday in a few days, life determinedly goes forward and so must we.

    The audiobook we listened to on the long drive, visiting family, the concert itself were all good distractions. But when my mind was not busy, I kept picturing Tracy lying dead on the floor of his RV. I did not see that, of course, did not even know he was in that position until the professional preparing his body for viewing told me. And I understand the Biblical truth that his spirit left his body the moment he died. But, try as I might, I could not get that lonely image out of my mind. I had been telling the Lord for a couple weeks that I needed something more from Him. I knew what I wanted--my son back--that was not going to happen. But I did not know what I needed to mentally move Tracy off that floor and into heaven, or how to again trust the God I thought I knew so well, yet was now afraid of.

    But when we left Boise and stopped in Pocatello for the night, something happened. The assistant manager who checked us in decided to upgrade our reservation. She first considered giving us a two bedroom suite, then decided to put us in her favorite room in the hotel--the Onyx suite. It had faux granite countertops, black fixtures (which are a problem to clean, but lovely to look at), a gas fireplace with one side in the living room the other in the bedroom. There were two bathrooms, the master bath had a huge whirlpool tub and a spacious three nozzle glass shower, vanity table, etc. Reed and I have stayed at some fancy places through the course of his career, and I have regarded all of them as gifts from the God who remembered and greatly upgraded the childhood dreams of travel I had forgotten. But none of those spoke to me in the way this one did. It was my something, my message from God that He still loves me and wants to please me.

    I tried to convey this to the manager, Rosemary, that for the past month our lives had tasted like ashes, and the suite was a beautiful reminder that surprises are more often satisfying than sad and life could be beautiful again. If I cannot yet picture the reality of Tracy living in heaven, at least he is no longer lying on the floor. And if I cannot comprehend the inscrutable mind of God, at least He is more familiar than frightening when my mind touches His in prayer. God helping to heal my heart through a hotel room, that really is something.

 

 

   

    

 

Glimpses of Grace

     As shocking and difficult as it has been losing Tracy, even from the beginning I recognized the hand of God in the circumstances. I'm sure there will be more instances to record later but, in all fairness to the God who chose this painful path for us, I should acknowledge some of the ways He has lessened the loss through his kindness.

By the grace of God:

Luke was in Helena for a meeting and offered to check on Tracy.

EMS had already been called so Luke didn't have to discover his body.

We were at Britten's for dinner that night.

Luke told her and she told us so we didn't have to hear it from strangers.

 

Melodee Seelye was the only one who came to writer's group that afternoon and we spent much of that time talking about Tracy, specifically about his salvation.

 

Pastor Peter mixed up the dates the pastors would be gone, so we asked John Smith to speak. John had known Tracy most of his life, knew him well, talked to him about spiritual things, knows he is saved.

 

The college canceled anything he owed them.

Federal school loans cancel at death. 

Tracy's assets are less than $50k so won't need to go through probate.

 

Joe bought Tracy's Suburban, the vehicle Reed was most worried about making the drive from Helena to Kalispell. Lithia bought back the Olds and Cadillac and refunded the money Tracy had paid for them.

Tracy's adapter for the hitch worked to pull the RV so we didn't have to rent one.

We had enough help for the Helena trip, so Dale did not need to come while the shop was busy.

The Snap On salesman is refunding us full price on the $2500 scanner Tracy had just purchased, minus the $500 balance due. 

During my long day of watching the girls while the others went to Helena, Ren bonked her head and can usually only be consoled by Mama. But while she was crying, Marcia came to the door with flowers and food, including M&Ms. Four of those got her to stop crying.

Attendance at Tracy's memorial was more than twice the 100 people we had expected, yet there was plenty of food. Britten was able to livestream the service for those who couldn't attend. Reed's mom was able to attend despite Meniere's flare up. There was a clear message to turn, or return, to the Lord in every part of the service. Some parents of Tracy's peers thanked us for that. All his schoolmates came except Shane. Drew and Jared did not have to work when their schedule changed for third time so were able to help with parking, which also turned into a much bigger job than expected. There was a full page of people interested in giving to a scholarship in Tracy's name. The process of setting one up through the college is not that complicated.

 

Britten and Will independently decided to adopt Amanda and Mackenzie into the family like Reed and I already had. They are including her in their family dinners. Amanda wants to be a part of our family and thanked us for including them at Easter.

Reed finally told Brett he couldn't go to Whitefish evenings and weekends for the job I kept asking him to get out of. However, since Brett asked him about working Saturday just a few days later, I'm not sure he got the message.

 

Stockmen's Bank will let us deposit checks made out to Tracy in his account until we close it. There is about $4400 in his account. We just found out Tracy has $2700 in his 401K.

 

Reed was listed as a driver on Tracy's Progressive auto policy so Reed had authority to cancel it. However, that also cancelled coverage on the pickup Reed was driving. Meanwhile that forced him to fix the malfunctioning sensor on the Subaru so he could drive it safely. Then Gary and his mechanic certified the pickup Tracy got for Reed as mechanically sound so we could insure it. Our auto insurance let us insure it before it was titled to Reed, even before we received the title in Tracy's name, which came sooner than we expected.

Pat had a $10k life insurance policy on Tracy (as with all her grandchildren).

Tracy had life insurance for the first time in his life.

His RV and vehicles will all apparently sell for more than he paid for them. Including the '64 Ford that has been sitting in my driveway for two years from the time Reed and Tracy promised me not to leave it there.

Britten and Luke are going to keep Tracy's diesel truck, which would please him.  Igor, their diesel plow truck, is collectible and worth quite a bit right now.

 

The October before he died we made a weekend trip to Helena and visited his school and workplace. So when his teachers and some Lithia employees came for the memorial, we knew most of them. 

Our last time with Tracy was 3 weeks prior to his death at the state aviation meetings. We got to meet some of his classmates and celebrate Tracy receiving his scholarship publicly.

We went to receive Tracy's posthumous diplomas, real diplomas, not empty cases. Everyone was kind and welcoming. Joe mentioned Tracy in his graduation speech, called the day bittersweet. He gave us the picture he had taken for one of Tracy's scholarship applications. It was on a table dedicated to Tracy in the hangar. The graduates and families wanted us in the class pictures. That should cause some head scratching in years to come.

Tracy had asked me if I would like a Snap On cookie jar. I said yes, but didn't know if he'd received it. Britten and Em presented it to me on Mother's Day. One final Mother's Day gift from Tracy. I also have the many sweet cards and notes he gave me for Mother's Day and other occasions through the years.

My vacuum started making a rattling noise which turned out to be multiple breaks in the lower duct hose. We have ordered a new one but in the meantime I am using Tracy's stick vacuum, which desperately needed cleaning, but works fine now.

Tracy found a low priced pickup to fix up for Reed, finished it and got it to Reed before he died. The title hadn't yet transferred to Tracy's name, much less to ours, but our auto insurance let Reed add it before we got the title weeks later.

 

    I'm sure more grace will unfold in the days to come. We can never out-give God. But focusing on God's goodness may help me through times when the burden on not seeing Tracy again in this life seems impossible to bear. As John Smith shared, if eternity is real, which it is, none of these temporary things really matter. Even the painful partings hold glimpses of God's grace.

Beautiful Words for a Broken Time

     When we found out our son had died, the first passage that came into my mind was Ps.139, especially verse 16, "Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be." I wanted that psalm preached at Tracy's memorial, with special emphasis on verse 16. But somehow I had lost sight of that truth in the bleakness of what seemed to be a tragic end. Last night God reminded me by insistently, repeatedly planting the words of verse 16 in my mind as if I were a particularly slow learner, which I am. Tracy died because it was his appointed time. Not because God had given up on his ability to have a sober life. Not because God wanted to snatch him away just as the good part is about to start. When I had those thoughts in the early days of loss, God told me, "I'm not like that." If we as parents would never give up on Tracy, why would I think God would? And what kind of sadistic killjoy God would separate a child He loves from the best part of his future?

     Tracy died because it was his appointed time. How God's plan interacts with our human choices is a mystery for better minds than mine. King David's appointed time of death was at age 70, but he spent many years fleeing, fighting, feigning madness, faking allegiance to an enemy (and wiping out entire cities, including civilians, to keep his secret) in order to reach that age. Still, I could not understand the purpose of all those prayers for Tracy, of the progress he had made in sobriety, of the plans he was on the verge of fulfilling, if he was destined to die so young. So last night, after God repeated Ps 139:16 until I believed it with my heart and not just my mind, He answered my question. The purpose of Tracy going away to school was not preparation for life as an aircraft mechanic, it was preparation for death. God enabled him to meet his appointed time with self respect and the respect of others.

    Before Tracy left for school he was a 30 something, still living with his parents, socializing only with family, unsure he could stay sober otherwise. God gave him those months in Helena to show himself and others the honorable man addiction had hidden for a time. His mechanical aptitude put him at the top of his class and revealed his intelligence in a way that traditional education had not. Committing to a more than full-time job proved his ability to work hard, handle money and support himself. He built a network of friends and helped them bond through golf dates or even, as he had in grade school, by wearing camo on Fridays, or Hawaiian shirts, or even a fez. God did not let him die as an addict on a downward spiral, circling the drain. Tracy met his appointment with his honor intact. 

     The way he died does not destroy the quality of the way he lived. Understanding that has made all the difference for me. God gave Tracy the gift of reaching his potential and then he took him home. We are not ready to let him go. There will be many sad days ahead. But the hopelessness of doubting the goodness of God because I did not understand the purposes of God is over. Reed and I both slept well and feel better today. God is sovereign. God is good. And His purpose is beautiful, even in a broken time.

In Honor, in Memory, in Love

   I never thought I could write my own son's obituary. Never thought I would need to. But when it came to it, as I filled out the worksheet from the funeral home, I realized that they could only provide an impersonal string of facts that said nothing about the son we loved on earth and now must love in heaven.

 

 

Tracy’s Obituary

 

   Tracy Reed Lamb was born May 3, 1987 in Whitefish, MT to Reed and Connie Lamb. He died March 24, 2022 at his home in Helena, a victim of accidental overdose. As third and last child, he was the tie breaker, joining sister Britten and brother Will. He grew up in Kalispell, attended Stillwater Christian School, and graduated from home school in 2006. He was a student at the Helena College of Technology at the time of his death, just weeks from completing his training to be an aircraft mechanic, and had already received his airframe certification.

   Tracy was a mechanic by nature, although his early attempts consisted mostly of lifting, lowering and loudening his own vehicles. The whole street knew when he came home for the night—our neighborhood watch program. His many outdoor jobs included building, landscaping, and fencing, but he mostly worked as an auto mechanic. When he wasn’t working on his own projects, or helping others with theirs, he enjoyed fishing and golf. His community service was not through an organization, it was the natural product of his generous heart. Like his dad, he could fix or build almost anything. So it was not surprising that in his 30’s, he decided to become an aircraft mechanic, training at the same school in Helena his dad had.

   Though he denied being a people person, Tracy was thoughtful by nature and well liked. He brought a steady supply of friends to our dinner table, and sometimes to live, in our home. Tracy was preceded in death by his grandmother, Violet Neighbors, and grandfather Del Lamb. His survivors are parents, Reed and Connie Lamb, sister Britten (Luke) Carlson, brother Will (Emily) Lamb and nieces Gabrielle, Renata, and Jules. He is also survived by grandparents Patricia Lamb and Bill Neighbors, many cousins and a multitude of friends. Tracy put his trust in Christ as a young boy, drifted for a time, but God restored his faith in a powerful way, and now has called him home. We are sure he would invite you to live in that home too. Memorial service will be held at 1 p.m. April 9^, 2022 at Glacier International Airport, big blue hangar. Enter at Gate 7, ½ mile N of the main terminal, check in at gate required.  

  

The Arrangements

    I may have to rename this part of my blog, there is nothing funny about this way to humility. I flatter myself to think Beautiful Words for a Broken Time, might be more appropriate.

The Arrangements

They call it making arrangements--

like the thorns piercing my heart

were connected to roses,

as if my son was at a florist shop

instead of a funeral home.

 

Worse, I must compose 

 this wretched wreath myself.

The viewing, burial, and service

for healing, closure, and remembrance,

through talking, embracing, and tears.

 

My heart, the reluctant container,

is too broken to be of much use.

The flowers are memories of the past

mingled with what might have been. 

   Watering is the easy part. 

                                     

 And when I am done with arrangements

the hard part will surely begin.

Planning and paperwork over.

The display, now dried up and tossed.

Nothing between me and the loss.