Ghockeymom's Blog

Three minutes…….John Michael, the peaceful look on  your face will forever be embedded in my heart.  That smile….beautiful smile of when you took the hand of Jesus

 Three hours…… hand in hand, Skip and I took our longest walk through the hallways of Baptist Hospital, to the car, and drove home in silence, knowing so many decisions were ahead of us

 Three days……so many decisions came naturally because of our family who walked beside us and our Heavenly Father who carried us – planning for a celebration of John Michael’s life and the joy he brought to us every single day

 Three months……our hearts are broken, will they ever be the same – Lord, why didn’t you take me, not him

 The Cross….. It took three days for a wooden cross to take on a new meaning…..of hope, of grace, of love, of joy, of life.

I remember reading a book, maybe 15 years ago that talked about how much those three days symbolize how we must look at any trials and tribulations that come our way.  The author said to never make any major decision without waiting three days or when sadness comes your way, wait three days for the cloud to rise….and, maybe three years. This past spring one of our pastor’s sermon was from the book of John, where Jesus was preparing his disciples for the future.  This made me think of all the ways God prepared me for losing John Michael; I just didn’t know it at the time.  I love to read anything….. but, a few books have left an indelible mark on my soul:  Christy, where Catherine Marshall has Christy’s heart broken with the death of Fairlight Spencer, a beautiful soul; Why Bad Things Happen to Good People, a Rabbi searches for answers after his son’s death; Death be not Proud, a mother and father’s true story of losing their son; Journey through Heartstrings, the true story of ten year old Mattie as he shares his journey towards  death through his poetry; and, then The Shack, where a father tries to make sense of the brutal death of his daughter.  All stories about a devastating loss and heartbreak, but yet stories of faith and hope.

For several months now, I have had the best intentions of continuing with my blog…..but, my goal to be inspirational just wasn’t happening.  My thoughts were swirling, but words on paper wouldn’t flow as the thoughts kept turning to the hurt in my heart.  I remember late fall and early winter several people commenting to me how they admired how I was able to work through the pain and share with others the hope that emerged.  I went through a few weeks thinking, I don’t want to be that person who others look to for how to overcome the pain of losing a child and move on………wanting to shout “The pain is as deep today as it was the first – I’ll never heal.”

But, last month, I looked at Skip and told him that my heart, though hurting, was slowly letting joy to enter – and, I felt guilty.  Skip, in his always-wise way, said – “Just think of the joy John Michael’s feeling now.”  So, as we reach the third year, the tears still flow every morning…..but, they are now just not tears of sadness, but intertwined with tears of joy….joy that I was so blessed with the gift of John Michael and am now so blessed because of the wonderful memories I have…and, the hope that was given to me when I said that final goodbye.

Three years……every step we take, John Michael takes with us; every laugh, he laughs with us; and, in every breath we take, he gives thanks with us for a glorious life, not only here on earth, but the one we will again share together.

 “If ever there is tomorrow when we’re not together… there is something you must always remember. You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think. But the most important thing is, even if we’re apart… I’ll always be with you.”

― A.A. Milne

Countdown to October 11, 2012……. So many people through the years have touched our lives, but today I give thanks for those who were there during the darkest week….

• Kathy (Norsworthy) and Linda (Alsup), for coming when I called…..and staying through the night
• Melody (Himes) for spending that last day with him in intensive care – I know you were praying …. seeing you and your mother come by the next morning made us smile
• Mandy (Hillhouse), for calling Linda (Haselwood) for dinner, making keys, checking in on us, answering the phone in the wee hours of October 11^th
• Linda (Haselwood), for delivering dinner – manicotti and brownies
• Linda (Haselwood), Anna (Looper), Mandy (Hillhouse), April (Humphrey), Suzanne (Brown) and Sabra, for unpacking our “goods” and having our house look like it belonged in Southern Living when we arrived — and, Billy (Brown) for hanging all the pictures – I know you were in the middle of football season
• Suzanne (Brown), for finding Cubbins, the hockey sticks, and boots….definitely led by the Holy Spirit to find everything that “was” John Michael
• Suzanne, Theresa (Dame) and Billye Sue (Hatch)…..I thought nothing could touch John Michael’s memorial table to greet all the visitors and family, until I walked into the church where another memorial table was surrounded by candles
• For all of you waiting on us as we drove into Clayton at my mother’s home with food and love….I dreaded stepping out of the car, but then saw so many who loved us….Byron and Gertrude Bohanon, Nita Hairrell, Laconia, and so many others
• Linda (Tallman) and Martha (Tallman) …for coming all the way from Tennessee – what a beautiful sight to see your faces that evening as you joined the family dinner
• The Holt family and Mary Beth Sneed…also making that long trip from Tennessee – you too loved JM so much
• Dr. Debi…..calling me every single day of those 8 weeks and then several times a day afterwards
• Dear Lindsey….. your beautiful letter of love and comfort – he loved you so
• My dear Arden….JM’s soulmate, teacher, and friend….and the touching eulogy
• The many, many friends of John Michael for being there for him..and, us
• Our many friends and colleagues from Shawnee
• Our many “old” friends from when we were “young”
• Marilyn, Charles, and Christopher Dorsey (one of JM’s first best friends from Kindergarten and 1^st grade)
• First Baptist Church…… the first church JM called home…thank you to all who cooked for us, prayed for us, and loved us
• Dottie and Todd….coming every night and having a wonderful service for us
• Many, many others who prayed for us, sent us messages of love and memories of John Michael
• Our family
  • Jim and Cassidy – for being with JM that afternoon, and then being with us every day as we prepared for the service
  • Tracy – thank you for the website, a comfort to hear from so many who loved John Michael
  • Karen, Dusty, and Blair – for rushing to our side and never leaving us that whole week – Dusty, I’ll never forget you cooking our breakfast each morning and then helping Skip clean our place at the cemetery, making the dreaded trip to the funeral home and flower shop
  • Ramona, you smelled so wonderful when you showed up at the hospital – I know John Michael could smell you and hear your voice
  • Jessi, for rushing to the hospital to be with JM and us
  • Val, I don’t know how you got a flight out so quickly from Nashville.  And, then driving us to Clayton as we knew we couldn’t let John Michael get there without us being there, also
  • Sara Jane, rushing from Canada, across the border and down to NYC to catch your plane in the middle of the night
  • John and Heidi, for coming so quickly
  • Pat, Joe, and Butch, for he loved all of his family
  • That night
    • Kathy, Linda, Karen, Dusty, Blair, Jessi, Val, Ramona……..his last hours, you were with us…… as we said goodbye
    • The Service
      • To so many Oklahoma, Tennessee, and Pennsylvania friends……thank you for being there with us
      • Our Shawnee family from Horace Mann, Shawnee Middle School (Pam for bringing Jerry) and my office…Marilyn, Steve, Allison, Anna, Sabra
      • So many near and distant friends praying for us, especially on this day
      • Our family……. Because of you, the service was so beautiful..John Michael was smiling as Karen, Mother, Valerie, Jim and John sang the words that touched us all…..and SJ as you read the cousin memories.
      • It was a perfect day…..

And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in one body. And be thankful. Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God. And whatever you do, in word or deed, do

October 7, 2012

everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.  Colossians 3:15-17

The Cross that Skip Built

Last year when I began this blog, I just knew that I would spend the year thanking everyone who had touched John Michael’s life…….what  a lofty goal that was.  But, perhaps my journey was meant to take longer, winding through the days of recovery, finding my way through the strands of my broken heart, allowing me to reflect, pray, and open my life to blessings that will allow me to see what a wonderful world it is, filled with more people to thank and be thankful for……

My plans were to use this day to remember those final hours, but my journey has taken me somewhere else…..this day will be to share how God works so perfectly in our lives….when we least expect it.

The Cross….I read somewhere about the significance of the last three days of Jesus’ life before the resurrection…….our blessing this past week was trifold.  First, Skip went to visit the cemetery and discovered wild flowers growing in front of JM’s stone, in the shape of a perfect heart – what an awesome message from John Michael to us……sending his love to us.  Second, I was in the flower shop choosing flowers for this week when I saw a tarnished bracelet among the other jewelry.  I asked to see it – a small sterling silver bracelet with a heart attached, with the message “It is love, not reason, is stronger than death.”  I bought it, shined it and wear it today, along with my prayer box necklace holding JM’s baby teeth.  Our third blessing came when Skip broke the cross that holds the flowers next to JM’s stone……..last weekend, Skip, Blair, Hayley, and I walked out towards the pond where Skip found a small cedar tree that he cut down, honed the ends, and nailed together for a new cross….so healing to watch as he worked on the cross and then planted last Sunday….which takes me to the story of the cross in JM’s journey to Heaven.  My brother had asked his former pastor to stop by and visit JM in the hospital.  The first Sunday JM was at Baptist, the pastor’s father came by.  An elderly gentleman, he bypassed me as though he only had eyes for JM.  I so vividly remember watching John Michael sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes also locked on this man holding a Bible who said, I’m going to provide church for you today.  After he had “preached” and said a prayer, he began singing “The Old Rugged Cross.”  I quickly thought to myself why would he choose that depressing song……..was I ever wrong.  John Michael and this gentleman looked as if they were the only people in the room – and, JM had this angelic look on his face as though he had just seen Jesus.  I guess this resonates so much because as I watched Skip cut down that cedar tree – and, then nail it together, another message was being silently preached – one of hope and love that all things do work for God’s purpose – the puzzle pieces we don’t understand make perfect sense to Him – and, it is only through our faith that the end result is revealed to us.

John 14:27 Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.

Skip and I made our 21^st move in 31 years this past summer.  Without any hesitation in my thinking, I know God orchestrated this move. He has listened to so many prayers that friends and family have offered up to Him – and, He answered.

Many years ago, a pastor in Ft Collins, Colorado, told me….wherever you go, live as though you will be there the rest of your life.  Reluctantly, I took the first step in following his advice, but found out soon our joy came from that attitude.  So many people have touched our lives in all those moves – our lives are so much richer because of them.

But, this move was different…..it was made without John Michael.  A couple of months ago, I thought I had made it through the pain of packing all of his belongings.  I told myself I would go through everything at a later date, but some things, I can’t keep packed away.  So……my heart was tugged again as I began unpacking a few of these boxes as some things I must keep close to me…..in the drawers of my dresser and armoire, beautiful reminders somehow keep him close to me, so……

Dear John Michael,

Last weekend, I told Dad, “He was such a pack rat.”  And, he replied, “I wonder whom he got that from.”  I could say your Grandma Ramona because we all know she still has those “special shoes, purses, and jewelry” from many years back.  But, I know Dad is talking about me as I never discouraged your desire to keep every souvenir, keepsake, book or letter you acquired.

But, just the little things I unpacked again last weekend…..all your pocketknives, your wallet, your watches – insane for someone to have that many, and how many pair of nail clippers did you have???  So, I’ve gathered these items and placed them in that box that Grandma Patty gave me – or, was it for dad – but, you took it over and loved to place valuables in it.  Your baby teeth are in my jewelry box  – except for the one I placed in a special prayer box locket that Sabra gave me, for when I wear it, your heart touches mine. 

My dear son, I know you would want us to be happy with this move, because you taught us how to find the good in every situation and every person, no matter where we are.  So, although I sometimes feel guilty about life being so good for us here, I hear your voice saying, “that’s why I love you momma and I wouldn’t expect anything else from you and Dad.”

And, by the way, thank you for being a packrat………your treasures give us comfort.

Love you, my baby.

And, to those who walk with us on our journey, we are blessed to have you in our life; we hope you rejoice with us in our love of John Michael – for your prayers to give us strength and courage sustain us…and, most of all, allow us to continue John Michael’s legacy.

Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life.

Psalm 23:6

I’ve had so many thoughts going through my mind about my next blog….and, hoped that there would have been several before this date.  But this morning my first thought was where I was on this date in 1984.  How cool was it that my brother’s wife Ramona and I were both pregnant at the same time, although JM was due the middle of July and Jessi not until September.  Jim had graduated from OSU that May and had just begun his new job with Price Waterhouse in OKC.  Ramona, taking summer classes at OSU, would stay in Stillwater during the week…….with us at dear old Patio Club apartments (Skip and I managed Patio Club apartments across from the football stadium).  It was a hot summer so how nice was it to live at Patio with the pool just out our door – and, I was quite lovely in my maternity swimsuit!  My cousin Glendora (also going to OSU and living at Patio) would clean our apartment and give me a pedicure at least once a week.  But, we made the most of that hot summer, for Skip, Ramona and I ate out every night..and, then would go to Baskin Robbins or Braums for an ice cream cone.  Skip – always a wonderful hubby – would load Ramona and me into his jeep (usually with the top off – the same jeep that JM drove in high school on the page of my first page of this blog – “about us”) and off we’d go for dinner and ice cream (and sometimes, minature golf).  I’m sure we drew many looks and comments as he drove two pregnant girls around town.  I ate myself through that summer.  For anyone that lived in Stillwater during that time period, you will remember our other two haunts for either lunch or dinner – the old Bobo’s Mexican Restaurant, Latigos and The Late Show – we always thought that was why JM loved to eat out – Mexican food and steak!  As my due date passed and the sun shone hotter, Skip would also take us out on dirt roads, hoping to hurry on delivery.  On July 24th, I checked into the hospital so they could induce my labor – but, he just wasn’t ready yet.  Ironically, I say “he” because my doctor was sure I having a girl – and, a small one.  By the morning of the 27^th, my doctor had left for a trip and Dr. Jennings, her partner showed up, saying, “folks, you’ve suffered too much – we’re going to do a C-section.”  Skip and I looked at each other strangely.  We had been faithful to our childbirth classes except the night they talked about C-sections. As it had been a perfect pregnancy, we chose to go eat Mexican food instead!  And, what a surprise……Dr. Jennings exclaimed as JM was born, “not only is this not a girl, he’s a football player.”  So, our bundle of joy…..all nine pounds of him, was welcomed into our lives.

One poignant memory tugs at my heart…..they brought him to me in the middle of the night and then got so busy they just left him all night sleeping on my shoulder.  That morning, I looked down to see these big hazel eyes looking up at me saying, “you’re my mama” — and, I thought to myself, “this is my baby forever and ever.”

So many blessings that summer and people to thank……my dear friend Blanche and the ladies of First Baptist Stillwater for my baby shower, Glendora for keeping me and the apartment looking pretty, Ramona for never leaving our side that long week, to the staff at Stillwater Hospital (wonder if they remember Skip Gore who would buy them Braums burgers and shakes that week), and, the rest of our families who showered us with love……Mother, Daddy and John who came immediately; Jim, right there, too; Karen and Dusty who bought him his “going home suit,” Pat and Joe, who along with gifts for JM, brought me a pretty new summer dress.

Yes, John Michael, you were a beautiful baby!  Happy 27^th birthday!  We love you – we miss you!  You will always be my baby.

Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.”  Matthew 19:13

Dear John Michael,

What great pleasure I take in having been your mother….”that’s my momma” I’ve heard you say so many times.  Reminiscing last night brought some of my most favorite “momma duties” to mind.   Moving to Colorado the summer you turned five and immediately joining the “Summer Movie Club” –  we would sneak in our own candy, but buy the popcorn there…it was the summer of Pippy Longstocking – everyone came dressed as a character from the movie.  I also enrolled you in a summer camp that you attended for two weeks:  you milked cows, gathered veggies from the garden, and on the last day rode horses – your know-it-all mother said she had experience with horses so you got the most spirited horse – and, off you were bucked!  Den mom……we moved to Wyomissing and signed up for Boy Scouts; no one would volunteer to be the leader so I became the Den mom, with lots of other moms helping me – thank goodness, as I am not the most creative person – Thank you especially, Kathy Everline.  My most fave moment as Den Mom has to be going to Summer Camp.  Dad was supposed to go, but had a “bigwig” from Walmart coming so I took you boys to Hawk Mountain Boy Scout Camp, where the first activity was to go on a scavenger hunt.  I still have the list that included:  mosquito eyeball, salamander, and a hemlock cone (was I wearing a skirt???).  I later became the 4-H Leader while in Paducah, Kentucky – your group did win a community service award (and, when we stuffed stockings for the underprivileged, I stuffed my camera in one – and, never found it).  The next six years I would serve as either a team mom or “equipment hauler” for soccer, ice hockey, and golf – great times going to golf camp at Hampton Cove, Alabama….or ice hockey camp in Minnesota (where we just thought we “knew” ice hockey).  Teaching at Lincoln Co High School while you attended was great – field trips with your AP history class, Model UN…..and, truly great memories on the church youth trips.  But, perhaps, what really comes to mind is when I followed you into the boys’ locker room after you had been suspended from an ice hockey game for protecting your goalie…..oops, or was it when the one time Dad couldn’t make a game in Birmingham – your first game after being out from dislocating your shoulder.  Not quite ready to be back on the ice, Dad had showed me how to “duct tape” your shoulder and arm so you wouldn’t move it much – now, that was not only a sight watching me do that — but, watching you play!  You were great!

If I could just have one more day to hear you laugh – last night, I began thinking of how much you loved to laugh at your momma…….when I danced, when I took my fall off the ski lift, you taking my ski poles away from me as I was coming down the mountain at Jackson Hole…or walking down the mountain when I tried snowboarding….spilling my food, singing with Dusty or Sara Jane….and, did I say dancing?

My sweet son, I miss you!  Thank you for giving me so many wonderful memories for Mother’s Day.  I love you,

Your momma

 You made this flower corsage for me Mother’s Day 1992; I just don’t remember whether it was in Sunday School or your 2nd grade class.

The Flower

ARP Youth in NC (JM - 2nd from right)

I’ve put off writing this entry………trying do decide if I wanted to go chronological or just wherever the whim takes me (a true blog, I guess).  Then, some event happens and I want to insert something that has a completely different take on where I want to be………so many people to remember, to think, to touch – so here I go back to my original plan with my entries about church, as that is the foundation that built the wonderful spirit of John Michael.

Taking up from my previous blog of church in Clayton and Stillwater……we were short term in several places as by that time Skip had started his Walmart life…….and, after being in Shawnee for a year (where we were members of University Baptist) short was our time in Ft. Collins, Colorado, but I’ll never forget the pastor coming by to visit us about joining the church – I said we don’t expect to be here long; his response was that no matter where you go, live as though you’ll be there the rest of your life – get involved, meet others, and enjoy.  I still remember that conversation so clearly.  We soon transferred to Pawhuska, Oklahoma.  But, then, we left for lands unknown – and, I smile as I say that, because in our two years in Wyomissing, Pennslyvania, we met great people.   Because I’m trying to stay on task with my subject of churches, the other discussion of teachers and friends who made a difference in our lives will have to wait.  Wyomissing is where I first put the Ft. Collins’ pastor’s advice to test — at that time, there was just one Southern Baptist Church in Berks County.  We visited one Sunday and joined the next.  The pastor and his wife were a young couple – around our age.  It was a small church – so small, that I was recruited to play piano when the regular pianist was gone.  Now, I’m definitely not accomplished enough to be even a fill-in, but I agreed.  John Michael had just begun piano lessons and was always quick to point out how many wrong notes I hit during the service – I would request that Johnny, our pastor, pick out only songs with no sharps or flats, but for some reason that never happened.  But, what I want to focus on most is Johnny’s wife Robin who was John Michael’s Sunday School teacher – he loved her.  She had a beautiful spirit, was sweet and loved those 2^nd and 3^rd graders.  We were there almost two years and have fond memories of Vacation Bible School as both Skip and I volunteered.  It was here that John Michael asked to speak to Johnny to say he had asked Jesus into his heart.  What great Bible studies we had here – the week before Easter, we would have Seder – introduced and exposed to so much Bible history.  Several of the boys in his cub scout den were Jewish, so he began a deep appreciation for others’ faith, while strengthening his own. We then moved to Dickson, Tennessee, and joined First Baptist Dickson…….no need for me to play the piano as the mother/son piano/organ duo was phenomenal.  John Michael took lessons from the mother and also played handbells there.  This is where he was baptized and began playing handbells – he had the same wonderful touch on them as he did with the piano.  We were in Dickson two years; Skip and I were the 5^th grade Sunday School teachers, so I won’t brag too much on them.  We then moved to Paducah, Kentucky, for a year and joined the a church in the community of Heath.  What a great place; as a sixth grader, JM joined the younger youth group and began attending a Wednesday night Bible study class; I remember the older gentleman who taught the class complimenting JM and his insight to everything they studied.  This youth group of 6^th graders was so active – singing in the junior high choir, the Christmas play, and lots of youth get togethers……..how much I would like to thank Harmony Baptist Church family for ministering to our family, especially John Michael. One of John Michael’s favorite songs with his youth group was “Let There Be Peace on Earth.”  His dream was to sing “Angels Among Us” as a solo, but it didn’t happen before we moved.  Our next journey would take us to Fayetteville, Tennessee, where we would spend the next seven years of our life – a place JM called home.  We joined First Baptist Church and were members there for two years; again, JM was active in the youth group and was the lead in one of the church plays.

We moved our membership to Associate Reformed Presbyterian Church, where John Michael began a close relationship with Dr. Calvin Todd, our minister.  One weekend John Michael and Dr. Todd were going hunting together – JM volunteered to drive as I had a suburban and they were “out into the deep woods of Middle Tennessee;” Dr. Todd mentioned to John Michael that for some reason his “bottom” was getting quite warm – I had left on the seat warmer.  JM also loved this youth group.  What great memories I have of being the mom of an ARP youth.  Wow….where do I began…perhaps with the two ski trips we made at Christmas time.  The first one was to North Carolina; most of the youth had never skied before – John Michael, an accomplished skier, enjoyed coaching them down the mountain…and, yes, riding with Meredith Taylor up the mountain; she still remembers how he would not put the lift bar down – saying if she went down, he was going down with her.  The next year, we went to Gatlinburg to a youth ministry summit.  My mother happened to be visiting and went along – this group welcomed her as one of them!  Meredith, Teela, Lindsey, Shannon……my mother still remembers all of you and what you wore! More about all of you as my blog takes on different subjects. Another trip JM enjoyed was the mission trip into the Appalachians, coming home and telling us about his “deep” theological discussions with the leaders of the program.  But what I think JM would say today about ARP was the friendship he treasured with Dr. Todd.  This past weekend going through things, I found a “list” (JM was big on lists) of his to do list when he was leaving for college.  One was to stop by and have one last visit with Dr. Todd.  So, thank you, Berkshire Baptist in Reading, First Baptist in Dickson, Tennessee, Harmony Baptist Church in Paducah, Kentucky, Fayetteville First Baptist Church and Associated Reformed Presbyterian Church, Fayetteville, Tennessee…..with a special thank you to Dr. Calvin Todd at ARP.

***Ecumenical Blessings, part 2….yet to come

Meredith "help"

Because John Michael’s faith was the fabric of his life, I begin my “thank you” letters remembering the WMU ladies…….WMU is (or was) the name of the ladies group at Baptist churches.  It was the WMU from First Baptist Church, Stillwater, Oklahoma, who gave me my baby shower……my dear friend Blanche Gilliland (who lost her life to breast cancer several years later, leaving her precious daughter Amy) spearheaded the shower.  Skip and I taught a youth Sunday School class with Blanche – and, then Mrs. Mastin delivered his baby blue Bible to him when he was about two weeks old.  It was at Stillwater FBC that John Michael first attended Vacation Bible School right before his first birthday.  WMU (Women’s Missionary Union) is like Women’s Circle in other churches – a group of women who come together to pray for others around the world.  When JM was two, we moved to Clayton and soon joined Clayton First Baptist Church.  Asking how we could serve, two days later, JM and I were headed to youth church camp; I would push that stroller all around Kiamichi Youth Camp, keeping a watchful eye on our group, plus enjoying the great singing that’s always presence at youth camps.  JM, even two, seemed to take in every moment.  In August, I began teaching and JM would stay with Anna Poe…….so, Anna, this thank you is to you.  My dear Anna, you taught John Michael so much.  If he were here, he would be remembering picking peaches, gathering veggies from the garden, helping Lewis gather the cows, fishing at the pond – you shooting the snapping turtles, eating a big dinner every day at noon, and having you cut his corn off the cob to be like Lewis.  But, most of all, he would remember attending the weekly WMU meetings with you.  In a small town, everything gets written about in the newspaper and there it would be, listing those who attended WMU, would be John Michael Gore.  I so remember the day you said, “I hope you don’t mind, but we attended _____’s funeral today, but JM and I sat at the back.”  So, began JM’s lessons in death…and, the promise of what heaven has waiting.  I think I’ve said this before, but I remember when he was four, playing in his room, with his toy chest open and his Bible in his hand.  He shared with me that he was  “preaching” a funeral and he couldn’t wait to see Heaven and all those who had gone before him.  I can’t finish my WMU story without mentioning more WMU ladies who made a difference in his life……Mrs. James, who with her kind, sweet voice, would visit with JM at Anna’s and at Sunday School – JM was still sending her a Christmas card when he went to college.   Mrs. James died a few years ago at the age of 100 – I am most assured that never an unkind word was uttered in her 100 years.  Mrs. Robinson was John Michael’s Sunday school teacher for two years — he loved her peanut butter balls that she brought every Sunday morning.  JM loved Sunday School; I’m not sure I can remember every teacher he had because although we lived in many places, the first thing we did was find a church ……  so, in another blog, the thank you’s will continue.

Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it.  Proverbs 22:6

Saturday, Skip said, “let’s go to church tomorrow.”  Why is this significant – since last year, our attendance has been sporadic (twice).  Not typical for us as church was always a priority for us as JM was growing up……Sunday School, VBS, mission trips….so on the way early Sunday morning, the stoplight turned green as we approached the intersection.  Skip said, “God must want us in church this morning.”  Then, as if on cue, “Angels Among Us” began playing on the radio.  As tears filled our eyes, we knew that JM was with us.  Not only was this his favorite song that he would sing, but the one Karen sang at his bedside as he left this life.

The sermon yesterday focused on the Angel of the Lord coming to Joseph – and, how our plans, goals, and dreams are always at the mercy of God’s plan for us.  Joseph and Mary’s dreams were changed, but they followed that Voice…..through hardship, heartbreak and joy, they were given a purpose much greater than they could ever imagine.

So, Angels and the spirit of John Michael traveled with us yesterday morning……reminding us of the wonderful gift given to us and no matter what lies ahead, there is a purpose in our journey.

Merry Christmas

Beautiful souls………..

I’ve started this latest blog several times…..the first time before Thanksgiving.  Last year at this time, we were numb; this year, it just seemed to be all too real, and I began thinking of Todd Stockler’s blog on the Crucible (Todd’s daughter died in a car wreck in June 09 – I began following his blog last spring to which I attribute to the beginning of our quest back to living).  He describes the Crucible as a metaphor for our hardships, difficulties, and pain but then goes on to explain how “Crucible” also means “night-light” – a way for us to see how God is still in control – our night-light of reassurance.  I really thought I had made progress in my journey, but then I felt I was back in the furnace of the Crucible, dreading the holidays….. as other beautiful souls left this life last week……. so, in the past year, my dear cousin Jacque who made everyone she encountered feel special, then my college best friend Sandy who loved life and like Jacque made you laugh…..then, Janine last week – who brought beautiful art into the lives of so many children whose vision of beauty is clouded with poverty…and, although I didn’t know Elizabeth Edwards personally, our spirits touched from both knowing the pain of losing a child….I have taken comfort from and admired her strength.  Beautiful souls who leave indelible marks on those whose path they crossed……….may the light they brought to us forever shine in our hearts.

Dear John Michael,

You are the most beautiful soul in my life.  As the heat of the Crucible continues to mold Dad and me for a purpose greater than we, we’ve taken comfort from reading excerpts from Max Lucado’s Come Thirsty and Traveling Light…….reminding us that instead of dreading the holiday you loved most of all, we need to embrace it and remember the joy Christmas brought you………so I take a Christmas journey through your eyes…..Christmas holidays with the cousins – the cozy coupe, the Rockette Show at Radio City Music Hall – with the awe of the live Nativity scene downtown NYC, shopping at Macys – and, you so concerned about the homeless, the Nashville Symphony Christmas show with Amy Grant (you tried to figure out each instrument’s sound), endless shopping, nursing home caroling, school programs, Church pageants and Christmas Eve lighting services, inviting anyone without family near for Christmas Eve, and you and dad decorating the Christmas tree (and, the outside lights, when you would try to disappear). How could I forget the Nutcrackers – and, going to see the Nutcracker Ballet with Karen and SJ when you were maybe four.  Although I always had a Christmas Creche, you insisted on one for just your room…..for you truly knew the reason for the season was Jesus.  So, as I travel this journey into the past, I celebrate the joy you brought to us; the memory of that joy still warms our hearts….and, allows us a glimpse of the miracles that lie ahead as we journey closer to you.

Merry Christmas our beautiful soul,

Love,

Your Mama and Daddy