Missing John

It's been awhile since I've written. One reason is that my creative juices are gone by the time I'm done writing all the papers due by week's end. Another is that the events of the last few weeks that would normally make good fodder for a post here seem to pale in significance compared with the one-year anniversary of my brother's death on November 4. At the same time I don't really know what to say about that either. However, a few people are missing my posts so I figured I'd better write the few thoughts I have so I can move on to other things.

An article I read for class referred to some prisoners who talked about the things they missed the most about being on the outside. All of them mentioned everyday, simple things that we often take for granted such as eating breakfast with the family or taking a walk through the park. I feel that way when I think about John. I miss the everyday things.

• I miss the sound of the backdoor opening at my parents and hearing his footsteps coming down the hall. 
• I miss hearing Elizabeth's enthusiastic, "Daddy!" when he came through the door. 
• I miss the way he would get up from the table and help Mom clean up the kitchen. 
• I miss talking with him on the phone and after about a minute hearing him say, "I don't know nothing" and then (usually) he would keep talking. 
• I miss the fun he brought to parties and games. He was a tease but he would make as much fun of himself as he did of the rest of us. 
• I miss him saying, "O my aching back!" when I complained too much for his taste.
• I miss his sarcastic humor

My brother, Andrew, posted some pictures from last year's harvest here and at the bottom he included a video that John had taken last October of Elizabeth driving the semi. I had seen the video before but as I watched it almost a year later, I realized how long it has been since I'd heard John's voice and from my current perspective, how long it will be before I hear it again.

My grief continues, and I suppose it always will. However, now I go for a run for the exercise and not to deal with my anger. I still don't know how to answer people who ask how many siblings I have. I'm so thankful that in the midst of the grief there is hope: hope of the resurrection, hope that Jesus will set all things right, hope that somehow all this will work out for the good of those who love God.

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, 

so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope. 

Romans 15:13