899 Days

Today marks a sobering milestone.

The number of days since Josiah died is the same number of days he lived.

You may have to read that sentence twice to catch it.

It kinda kicks the breath out of you, doesn't it?

February 16th, 2007 to August 2nd, 2009 equals August 2nd 2009 to January 17th 2011.

899 days.

Strange, huh?

I don't know what to make of it. It's something to be aware of, to pause for, but then what?  What I am supposed to do with this knowledge, here at the intersection of this very strange anniversary?

From now on we are going to mourn him longer than we were with him. From now on he's going to be dead longer than he was alive.

Each day we have been moving farther and farther from Josiah. Each day the gap between now and then widens.

Yet. The opposite is also true.

Each day we move closer and closer to Josiah. Each day the gap between heaven and earth shrinks.

What was to what is, what is to what will be.

We can count the days apart, but we can't count the days until we're reunited.

Living life with enternity in mind is ... well ... mind-boggling.

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A day under 900.

Josiah changed my life with one day. And then God gave us 898 more.


A lot can happen in 899 days, especially when you break it down year by year, season by season. Honestly, it hasn't felt that long. I had to re-do the math to make sure I was right.

Josiah's time with us seemed to last much longer than these days that have followed. Not to take anything away from our daughter, of course. She is the JOY and LIGHT of our family!

Our time with Josiah was so unreal, so full: new experiences, new rythms, new people, new sights and scenes. Life was very different, extremely abnormal. The highs were insanely high and the lows were excrutiatingly low. Our senses and souls were being heightened and stretched in every imaginable way. No wonder that those 899 days felt like a lifetime.

899 days also means 899 days grieving, waiting, wrestling, and bearing. And to think that I haven't reached the end of my tears ...

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 I miss talking about Josiah.

When he was alive, you couldn't help but talk about him. Our entire lives revolved around him, we had to analyze his every breath, his every moment. We blogged maddeningly in the hospital as tried to keep people updated. Daily there were handover reports, assessments and instructions with the nurses, respite workers, and hospital staff. We would problem solve perceived symptoms and review procedures, looking for ways to improve his care.

If Josiah was present in the room, he was the conversation piece. That's just how it went. When we went out we were asked relentlessly about Josiah and we LOVED IT. We loved explaining for the one-thousandth time who our son was and how he was overcoming his medical challengings. We gushed as we talked about his character and his achievements. You couldn't shut us up!

We talk about Josiah in a much different way now.

Hushed tones. Less enthusiasm. We say more with our body langauge than we do with our mouths.

Just this week I got to talk about Josiah again. I was able to run through his medical history like it was 'old times'.

It brought me SUCH JOY - I had no idea how much I had been longing for a moment like this!

It was a strange and wonderful thing how it all came back to me, the rhythm we would get into as we described our son from head to toe. On good days, it flowed like poetry. Yet on this day there were the lags and gaps, and then the sad realization that I was forgetting things that I thought were unforgettable.

The very common medical jargon that we used nearly every day for 899 days was disappearing. I couldn't come up with the right words, I couldn't pronounce things correctly. I was vague on things that used to be so detailed and clear.

And I realize again that I am talking about Josiah in a much different way now.

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899 days and then another 899 more. Another day, another day, another day ... until tomorrow wakes up to eternity.

What a merciful day that will be.

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However many years a man may live, let him enjoy them all.
But let him remember the days of darkness, for they will be many.

~ Ecclesiastes 11:9

Behold, I make all things new.

~ Revelation 21:5

G&P
- Andrew

This Is Not The End

I think it was when we were driving back from Seattle in October.

We were listen to Gungor's Ghosts Upon the Earth and - without any warning or context - Marie blurts out "I want this song played at my funeral."

Yikes.

Not exactly conversation starter material.

The lyrics are simple enough, yet a soothing reminder of what is to come. There is life - real life, greater life - on the other side of death.

Thus, we grieve and lament in absence as we hope and trust in reunion. For in Christ there are no good-byes. Only see-you-laters. 

And by the way, Marie was totally right. This would be the perfect song to sing at any funeral where the hope of heaven is found.

This is not the end
This is not the end of this
We will open our eyes wide, wider

This is not our last
This is not our last breath
We will open our mouths wide, wider

And you know you'll be alright
Oh and you know you'll be alright

This is not the end
This is not the end of us
We will shine like the stars bright, brighter

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Brothers, we do not want you to be ignorant about those who fall asleep, or to grieve like the rest of men, who have no hope. We believe that Jesus died and rose again and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him.
~ 1 Thessalonians 4:13-14

Listen, I tell you a mystery: We will not all sleep, but we will all be changed — in a flash, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed.
~ 1 Corinthians 15:51-52

Happy Listening

- Andrew

CS Lewis Quote - What Do You Find When You Need God?

via Flickr

I read this today.

"Go to Him when your need is desperate, when all other help is vain, and what do you find? A door slammed in your face and a sound of bolting." (CS Lewis, A Grief Observed)

God.
On the other side of the door.
Present.
There. 
But inaccessible.
Distant.

He locked Himself away.
He can hear you.
You know He's there.
But you can't reach Him.

What hurts more?

The pain that sent you to God's door.
Or the pain of finding the door locked.
From the inside.

God.
He wounds.
He heals.
He promises.

But when?

"See now that I myself am He! There is no god besides me.I put to death and I bring to life.
I have wounded and I will heal, and no one can deliver out of my hand."
~ Deuteronomy 32:39

 "Why, O LORD, do you stand far off?
Why do you hide yourself in times of trouble?"
~ Psalm 10:1

G&P
- Andrew

Reflecting on Job 9:12 and 17

via Google Image search

 If He [God] takes away, who can stop Him? Who could say to Him, ‘What are You doing?’ ... For He crushes me with a storm, and hurts me more and more without a reason. ~ Job 9:12, 17 (NLT)

Snippets of Job's life and conversation are easy to connect with. I read this portion this morning during breakfast.

I'm not interesting in taking God to trial. I'm not feeling that I'm guilty of something and this is my punishment from God. So in that way, I'm not coming at this tragedy the same way Job approached his. But his words echo the thoughts that I think and he speaks things that I go "Yes! This man understands how I feel!" to.

People ask if I'm angry at God. I haven't been angry at God (yet). Resigned for sure. That 'toss-your-hands-the-air-because-God-is-going-to-do-whatever-he-wants' kind of response is what I feel. As Job says, God is God: if He takes away, who can stop Him?

Right now I'm not concerned with the "why" of it all. That will come I'm certain. I'm still lost in the overwhelming sea of this sorrow, flailing to grasp something that will steady me, something that will hold my head above the waters so that I can breathe and rest and find my way back to the shore.

Yes, the quick answer is "God is who you can hold onto." Yeah, I get that. And I've been turning to Him a lot (we're still on talking terms by the way). But it's hard to keep turning to Him when He - the one who holds all Life - has drawn two lives from our family into His presence.

Maybe I can describe it this way: I trust God, I just don't like Him (right now). Again, that sounds like I'm a five year-old throwing a temper tantrum and I'm being drawn into submission to God kicking and screaming (which isn't how I feel). I know I need God and I can trust Him will my life and all this life offers, but He's not exactly 'winning me over' in the last couple of years. Not a season of God 'wining and dining' our family that's for sure.

Is God bigger than this? Oh yeah. Will God and I be closer through this and after this all? Absolutely. Am I more appreciative of Jesus' work of redemption and the Spirit's presence on earth because of these tragedies that have befallen us? Most definitely.  But do I "like God" more because of this? Uh-huh.

This tragedy is God's doing. And He will lead us out of it.

 And though the pain is an ocean, tossing us around, around, around
You have calmed greater waters, higher mountains have come down

I will sing of Your mercy, that leads me through valleys of sorrow, to rivers of joy

~ Jars of Clay "The Valley Song"

G&P
- Andrew

Readings - Mourning

For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven.
A time to cry and a time to laugh. A time to grieve and a time to dance.
~ Ecclesiastes 3:1, 4


Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.
~ Matthew 5:4


Be happy with those who are happy, and weep with those who weep.
~ Romans 12:15

Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the old heaven and the old earth had disappeared.
I heard a loud shout from the throne, saying, “Look, God’s home is now among his people! He will live with them, and they will be his people. God himself will be with them. He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain. All these things are gone forever.”
~ Revelation 21:1, 3-4

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As I was gathering passages of Scripture to guide my heart and steps, I stumbled upon an obscure passage in Amos which was affirming and gut-wrenching all at once. The prophet is telling of a coming day when all the joy in the lives of the Israelites will be replaced with great sorrow, and he uses the death of an only son as an example of how bitter their grief will be (Amos 8:9-10).

Sometimes it feels like our grief is bigger than me, bigger than I can handle, bigger than I can work through. And in the mind of the prophet Amos and the people he spoke to, losing a son is about as worst as it can get. Like a brief burst of sunlight through an overcast sky, some days you can find solace in the unlikeliest places.

Thank you for your prayers.
- Andrew & Marie

Readings - Lamentations

I will never forget this awful time,
as I grieve over my loss.

Yet I still dare to hope
when I remember this:

The faithful love of the Lord never ends!
His mercies never cease.
Great is his faithfulness;
his mercies begin afresh each morning.

I say to myself, “The Lord is my inheritance;
therefore, I will hope in him!”

The Lord is good to those who depend on him,
to those who search for him.

~ Lamentations 3:20-25 (New Living Translation)