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

A Theater, a Field, and God's Sovereignty

I was on my way home from work when I heard the news that 12 people had died during the night as the result of gunshot wounds while sitting in a theater in Aurora, CO. The silver lining seemed to be that the police had first reported 14 dead but had revised the number down to 12. At that point not many details were known and I've done little to try and learn more. It struck too close to home. I can't help but think of 12 families going through what we did last November, the sleepless nights, the tears, the sense that none of what was happening was real, the decisions that had to be made, the questions... I hope they are also experiencing the support of extended family and their community with neighbors who rearrange their refrigerator to help keep all the food people bring, men who come with a bear hug because there are no words, and those who will sit and pray, not trying to give answers. And I know it won't be over for them in a couple of weeks even though the rest of the world will move on. 

Petra's story is the only one I've read. She was in the theater that night. A bullet entered through her nose and went up through her brain stopping just before exiting her skull. Nobody survives trauma like that and if they do, they have severe brain damage. But Petra has a tiny "defect" like "a vein through marble" that winds it way through her brain. It so happens that the bullet followed that vein exactly, including its turns so it missed everything vital. Petra's pastor, writing the story, describes it as "God working ahead of time for a particular event in the future. It’s just like the God I follow to plan the route of a bullet through a brain long before Batman ever rises. Twenty-two years before."

It's a wonderful story of God's sovereign grace. But what does that say about the 12 who did die? Where was his preventive grace for them? And, to bring it closer to home, where was it on the afternoon of November 4th in an Iowa field? That question didn't actually come to my mind as I read that story. Instead it gave me comfort. As senseless as any event seems from our perspective, God is in control. He is working things out for the good of those who love him; he is reconciling all things to himself; there will be peace in the end.

One of the things Mom said to me shortly after John died was, "We have always said we believed in God's sovereignty. Now we get to live it." I have not lived it without pain and grief. I cannot pretend to understand. My brother's death still makes no sense. I read Job and the Psalms and I realize that I am not alone in my questions and confusion. I am thankful for God's grace and mercy that enables me trust him much as a child trusts her Daddy even when she doesn't understand what he is doing. I can trust because Jesus promises everything will be all right in the end. If it is not all right, it is not yet the end.