Odd Odds from God

    I didn't know what to expect for this spring's third "sadiversaries" of losing Tracy. The first year Reed had Cessna maintenance classes in Wichita. Two of Reed's classmates joined us for dinner at Texas Roadhouse exactly one year after Trace died. They tolerantly listened to many Tracy stories and it was healing to be able to share about him with people who would not become sad. I think it even helped the one whose son died six years before, because he showed me his son's picture when we left the restaurant. He said he had not looked at that picture or spoken of him in years. During last year's sadiversaries, Reed was having tests for his prostate cancer, so our focus was more on physical healing than healing grief. 

   This year I realized I had been telling those who asked that I was fine, but inside I was counting down until the 22nd, not in a "fine" way, so I asked for prayer from three groups I am a part of. I could tell the prayers from them and others helped because, although I was still counting down, my feeling of dread subsided. Saturday's emotions were as mixed as the weather--snow, rain, sun, stirred together by the wind. While we did not have opportunities to talk about Trace, as we did that first year, the Lord stirred lots of people to talk with into the mixture of our day. The two older gentlemen who are often at Tool Palace during our weekly visit shared, after I did, that they had both lost sons. Odd. 

   We wanted to choose a place for dinner that Tracy would like, and decided on a tiny-home sized barbecue place in Somers called "Cowboy Up." Since we were the only customers, I thought maybe we could visit with the waitress/owner about Trace. Instead another couple came in. The wife looked remarkably like a girl whose family went to the same church as Reed's, and was a close friend of Reed's sister. But that was in Missoula, so the odds of this fellow diner in a restaurant that seats 15 being the same person seemed slim. However, when I asked if they were local and she told me they were from Clinton, I knew it was her. Again, we didn't talk much about Tracy, but caught up on other things. Then the cook/owner came in to visit with us. He had also lost a son. 3 out of the 4 men I talked to that day had lost sons. Only God could beat odds that odd.

   At another hardware store on Sunday, we ran into a friend we had not seen for years. Alan's wife died two years ago, so he understood recent loss. And then he was able to encourage Reed about radiation for prostate cancer because he had also gone through that. So we added our visit with Alan to God's odd itinerary for our weekend.

   Monday, the anniversary of the day we found out about Tracy, Amanda offered to meet at the cemetery. She brought her sister April, who I had wanted a chance to talk to ever since her son died in a car accident in January. April is thinking of buying a plot for Alihn at the same cemetery. The wind seemed to be plotting against the purchase, it was particularly cold and strong that day. I was pleased to know April is already attending Griefshare. I gave her my Lament book and the "Heaven" booklet we give to so many in Tracy's memory. We also now have each other's contact info. I gave Amanda a book too, the one about our family, since we consider her family-- Life Lines of the Lamb. Between the emotions, the sharing, and the wind, I felt very drained for the rest of the night. It took every ounce of my concentration just to fix dinner. I knew I would be unable to focus for ladies prayer time, and did not go, but my request did.

   So our third sadiversaries were packed with prayer and people . . . and purpose, everything God does has purpose. Odds are, He won't let me know what it is. But that is not odd, for God.

Tracy's Blessing

    Today is the third anniversary of Tracy's death. Our emotions were much like the weather--snow, rain and sun all mixed together by a cool March wind. One of the documents I came across while looking for something else today was the blessing letters Reed and I wrote to Tracy in July 2010 when he finally got his own place. We wrote blessings to Britten and Will as well, but that was before I had the presence of mind to keep a copy for us. When I reread the letter, especially the last few lines, I realized my letter about leaving our house for a home of his own, was also fitting for leaving his earthly home for his heavenly one.  

Dear Tracy,

  I knew we would be writing this letter soon, I could sense it, you were ready to leave. Although there is a loneliness in seeing a child leave home, there is great satisfaction in seeing your young adults reach the goal of responsibility and maturity that you have always wanted for them. As your sister, brother, and even the spare sons moved out, we gave them a letter of blessing, it is intended to show three things--our observations on their character, our hopes for their future and, most importantly, to convey the privilege it has been to have you in our home. We are thankful for the extra years we have had with you. They have been a bonus, not a burden.

   Your great strength is your good heart and nature, you are easy to be around. You see what others need and you try to help, or at least not hurt, them. Of all of our children, I have felt the safest with you. All of you kids know my failings, but I always felt secure that you saw me clearly and still approved of me. Everyone needs someone like that in their life. I hope you will continue to be that for others. Like your Dad, you have mechanical abilities and a good variety of skills which will be useful in your life and a blessing to others. You are increasingly responsible with money and a hard worker.

   Our hope for all of children is the same, that you will love and serve God. That is what we are made for and it gives life meaning. I think you struggle in the same way I do, thinking God is passive, that He watches but doesn't really do anything. Sometimes this feels true, but I can tell you from 37 years experience as a Christian, that He skillfully weaves circumstances together to bring about His purpose. He will do that in your life, your choice is whether He will do it the easy way or the hard way. We pray everyday that God will draw you close. If He wasn't interested in you, He would have put you in a different family. You belong to us and you belong to God. I will wait patiently for that. You are worth waiting for. 

 

                                                                                 Love,

                                                                                         Mom 

The Chimes

      One of the fairly common things given in remembrance of a loved one is wind chimes. I was not sure what to do with the set we received in Tracy's memory. They certainly did not reflect his taste in music. Reed eventually hung them in our back yard apple tree. Unlike my brother-in-law, who finds such chimes a painful reminder of the perpetual winds of his North Dakota childhood, I do not dislike wind chimes. But I did not see how they reflected loss of a loved one until this year when, due to the late arrival of snow, we left them up through the winter. There is something incredibly brave about the music of chimes in a winter wind. Their sound could be the theme song of grief. Hope amidst a howling storm.

 

The Chimes

 

The chimes that hang upon the tree

make music in your memory.

In all the winter wind and chill,

through many storms, I heard them still.

 

Someday soon those winds will bring

growth reawakened with the spring.

From seeming death new life will dawn

and in that hope the chimes ring on. 

Though you, my son, now live above

beyond my touch, but not my love,

I, like the chimes, must just hang on

embrace the wind and sing my song. 

                                                                      3/14/25

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Then Come the Birds

    This week's Revelation poem came early in my study. At last, concepts I can visualize, horses, armies, scavenger birds. Something I can sink my teeth and their talons into.

Then Come the Birds 

The birds have come to feast upon

the smoldering corpse of Babylon,

while bridegroom warrior comes to fight,

leading His armies dressed in white.

 

A cavalry with heaven's power

to bring God's judgment on this hour.

For they, before the wedding feast,

must kill the kings and bind the Beast.

 

The birds swoop in on eager wings

to gorge on soldiers and their kings.

The Beast and Prophet duped the world,

but in the end they will be hurled

 

Far from the power they desired

to suffer in the lake of fire.

The earth from sin has been released,

soon will begin a time of peace.

 

Then come the birds to feast upon

the carnage left when battle's done. 

Revelation 19

 

The Kings of the Earth

     We studied Revelation 18 in BSF this week. It is a chapter of grim judgment against the pinnacle and power of the world under Satan's rule--Babylon. But these ugly prophecies are recorded in surprisingly beautiful language--poetry. Most prophecies of the Bible are actually written in poetic form, it is just hard to recognize in our English translations. Of the 24 verses in chapter 18, 16 are poetry. And since poetry speaks to me, I will offer my own perspective in the same form.

 

The Kings of the Earth

 

When God's judgment comes to Babylon

and the stench of her blood and filth are gone,

God's own will rejoice in a world reborn,

but the kings of the earth will weep and mourn.

The kings of the earth will mourn.

 

Revelation chapter 18 

3/9/25

 

The Last Place We Saw You

    This is the first time the Montana aviation conference has been in Missoula since Tracy died almost three years ago. The last two days have been a nice break from the routine of home and a welcome reunion with the larger aviation community, but the memories knocking at our hearts have grown louder despite all the daily distractions. Today I must deal with my grief and write it.

 

The Last Place We Saw You

 

So many things have changed

since we were together three years ago.

We thought we would be okay

meeting in a different venue,

staying in a different hotel,

eating at different restaurants.

 

But one thing has not changed,

the most important thing--

This was the last place we saw you alive.

 

Despite the busyness of the conference,

the pleasure of visiting and sharing meals

with friends and family, and

the proud memory of your public award,

one thought pulses in the back of our minds, 

 refusing now to remain in shadows.

 

Despite the different date, and venue,

 the new ones who came and the old who did not--

This was the last time we saw you alive. 

 

We want both to embrace the image

and to push it away

because after that came the still body,

unnaturally cold and cosmetically enhanced,

foreign, familiar, loved 

and unbearable to look at. 

           We know you're fully, freely alive now,            

we'll join again in heaven, and yet

those joys to come cannot make us forget--

 

This was the last place we saw you. 

3/1/25