Whipped My goodness, I am exhaused. It has been …


My goodness, I am exhaused. It has been and extremely long, yet seemingly short weekend. It seems like the last time I was at my desk was only hours ago, but those hours moved slowly.

On Friday, I got a call from my wife telling me she got a call from her mom telling her that her cousin’s three children all died in a house fire early Friday morning. From that moment on things have kind of been a blur until now.

There was the initial shock of hearing such news. The stunned silence. What can I say? Words just were not there. I could not even be there with my wife. She was at work, and so was I. I wanted so much to just hold her. Let her rest in my arms. But I could not.

Saturday and Sunday went as planned, but still in the haze of the news.

Sunday night we got the news that a window of our car had been smashed in, and so we were unsure of how we were going to get to the funeral Monday. Luckily we have grace filled friends. We went to our pastors house and were invited to supper and were given the keys to thier youngests’ car. It was so nice to get out of the house and just be with people. I don’t think they know how much those couple of hours helped.

Monday, yesterday, we headed to Plymouth, WI to attend the funeral. 2 closed caskets and one open. Three angels in heaven. Many broken here on earth.

The whole drive to Plymouth and the drive home I was thinking about death, dying and life. I am going to attempt to put some of those thoughts down here, forgive the rambling nature of them … these are just some of my thoughts…

On Death and Dying

My reaction to death is not necessarly one of tears or anger. It tends to be one of relief, or at least calm. I have the understanding that it happens to us all, and we are in the process of dying from the moment we exit the womb. This is a hard view to have. But since the fall, that has been our lot, and I am comfortable with that.

I believe in a life after death, and maybe that helps me in my reaction to earthly death.

I lost my dad almost 9 years ago. It was expected for a long time, but when it happened it happened over the course of 24 hours. He was diabetic and had been suffering complications from that disease for years, and we knew it would eventually take him. But he had a heart attack, and as a result of the disease no effective treatment was able to be done. Diabetes calicifies the blood vessels and as a result they are very fragile. To attemp an angioplasty or stint or other treatment would cause the vessle to burst, doing more damage than the inital attack. We had a DNR signed and allowed him to pass.

I cried and grieved at the loss of my father, but I cried and grieved more for my mom, my brother, my uncle and aunt, my grandpa and especially my grandma (parents should not have to burry their children). That was the first time I realized this.

I grieve for the survivors, for the living. After one dies, there is nothing we can do to stop that. They have moved on.

I grieve for the path surviors have to take.

I grieve because the end of a life is the beginning of a new life for those of us remaining. Some of us are able to move on and grow. Others are not. I don’t know how I could grow from the loss of my three children. I cry of the mother and the father of Cheyenne, Hunter and Rae’ven.

That is ramling and incohearant, but I just needed to post. Pray for Tara, Donny, Mae and their families.

May they see the glory of the ressurection.


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