Small Things

I often think about how it will be when we are rehashing stories about my brother with the boys. Avery was not quit 4 when he died, and obviously Taylor will never get to meet him. I wonder if Avery will remember anything, and how I'm sure they'll ask if I miss him and I'll smile and say sometimes, probably while fighting back a tear or two. But I really hoped there was a little retention of memories of Heath by Avery so when we told Taylor about his uncle that Avery could back them up; and give a child's perspective on how he was as an uncle.

Wednesday Avery wanted to go to Macdonald's before church. He enjoys it because he gets to play with two of his friends on the playground. I hate it because the food is one grade above dirt, but I sacrifice for the children. So I was feeling sub-par after my meal at Macdonald's Wednesday as we were loading into the car, and Avery said "I have holes in my pants like Uncle Heath had." I of course was intrigued, but skeptical, since my first born tends to exaggerate a great deal; and there was a picture of Heath in the back of the truck. He went on to explain that during the day at school he had torn his pants, and now both knees of his jeans were ripped. He said that he had pants like Uncle Heath's because he always had holes in his pants.

The funny thing is I always used to give Heath a hard time about his jeans that were bought pre-torn. I told him if you wore them right they would eventually have holes in them. For me to get reminded that "every little thing's gonna be alright" by my son remembering my brother through the holes in his jeans was a funny blessing for the day.

--Be Excellent To Each Other

Patience is a Virtue?

First of all...mad props to Josh Murphy, my friend in Alaska. One of the options I have on the blog is to see how many people view the blog and from where. I knocked out the US mainland, and my map looked a lot cooler because of Alaska being colored on my map as well.

I always here how patience is a virtue...I contend it is punishment. Let me explain. I can remember praying for patience, thinking I wanted to be a well rounded individual; and why not pray for it. When I became I thought God was teaching me patience. We debt with misbehavior, disrespect, and life's other difficulties in try to rationalize with 5 year old. Nothing...and I mean nothing...could prepare me for this year patience lessons from God.

This year I assistant coached for Avery's basketball team and it was tough. Kids running around, not listening, and completely tearing the heart out of a team sport by making it a one pass and run the ball straight to the goal. Then I thought the big patience lesson would come from taking care of a new born, but nothing could have prepared me for what happened today. Today I watched one of my most favorite things in the world ripped to shreds...today I watched the 6 and under T-Ball team's second practice.

I missed the first because of my class, so today I got to my first and their second practice. Whew...it was rough. I have watched my son practice and look really good as a 5 year old baseball prodigy (I say prodigy because Jill and I have been planning on retiring off of Avery's Major League Baseball salary)but today he looked like a kid on a baseball diamond. On an average play there was kid KO-ing the tee, half the team run towards the glorified bunt that was hit off the tee, and of course at least 8 kids throwing dirt into the air only to hit me in the face as the wind pushed it straight towards me. I think I see how it must be watching the stock market with money invested. Saturday Avery was hitting 45 mph batting cage balls with me thinking my future funding was set, and today I now realize I will always be a working class joe because my son wants to play with the glove on the wrong hand so he can better grip the dirt to throw straight above his head.

I remember being so obedient, and listening to every command that was given me by my coaches. I am pretty sure my technique was already flawless by practice number two. Or at least that how I remember it. I never could have imagined it would be so much fun learning patience.

--Be Excellent To Each Other

....732 days later

I thought with my "days go by" title I would actually do some day math. 732 days ago, roughly, was when Heath died. I purposely avoid the old "since he was taken home, etc" because I personally believe he is in a state of rest until judgement day. I don't do the whole "he is looking down on us" or anything like that. I think he is at peace, which is much more than the rest of us with dealing with his passing. I have yet to publish any thoughts, feelings, etc. so here goes.

For the last two years when it got too unbearable to think about his death I would write. The original plan was to write a great christian book about dealing with loss, and be able to retire at 30. I doubt that is going to happen, so for the time being it will stay buried on my hard drive. I have avoided writing on his Facebook page, his memory page, and until this weekend going to his burial site. I took Avery to the batting cages on Friday, which by the way at the age of 5 he hit at least 8 balls at 45 mph. We passed the memorial park that Heath is buried at and I told him that's where we buried him at, and he wanted to go visit. For Avery it was a fun place to walk and put a flower on his uncle's grave; for me it was a nice tree and a bench. The normal grieving process has not worked really well with my dealing with his death.

Every time I hear the "time heals all wounds" I kind of laugh. Time helps for sure, but not heal. It dulls. For months after Heath's death I found my self mad or sad all the time. Now it's just when I see pictures, hear stories, or go certain places. The pictures make me smile for a bit then remember that I can't make any more, when I hear the pictures it reminds me that they are all from when were 20 years or younger and it makes me mad, and when I get up to go to the mall or a movie I think twice because it's depressing going to places and realizing he should be beside me. I get to the point when tears fill my eyes and I just can't cry anymore. I didn't cry a lot before he passed away, but for the next year I cried a lot. I think my mind knows that my heart is wearing my body out by the emotions I am feeling and I just can't break down anymore.

I never thought I would do the angry at God or questioning him, but I did. I wanted answers, I knew I had done nothing to deserve them, but I wanted them. I wanted to know that with all the junk I see on a regular basis, why he had to take my baby brother. I regularly meditate and prayed for my answer...and waited....and waited. I don't think God was being cruel or ignoring me. I think about the time of my ultimate frustration was a year ago. I had been an emotional wreck, as well as the rest of my family, when things just started getting better. Anita found out she was pregnant, then Jill, my mom started Heath's Haven and is helping so many people with her drive that is caused by wanting to make the world better in my brother's memory. I don't think God was ignoring my pain he was just telling me to wait.

Jay and Anita let us borrow a book of names after we had already established David Taylor was it. I very proudly read that taylor meant "fixer of garments"...ouch. Mine means "gift from God" and I am so proud of it. But for me Taylor means so much more than "maker of garments"...it means "wait on the Lord" it means "the Lord is and will always be good" it means "my God knows me" it means "love the family you have and remember the ones you lost"...for me Taylor means "God loves me"

--Be Excellent To Each Other

My father's child

So today I had an out of body experience. As a child my dad would take my brother and I to the store, and we knew it was about to rain snacks. I know he and my mom did not have a lot of money, but worked extremely hard to not let us know how poor we were. We didn't get a lot of extravagance, but my mom knew when we were snack hunting with dad the bill would be up higher than the normal grocery store run (or the gas bill if we were at a convenient store). My dad was, and is, notorious for something else...poor time management.

My dad was NOTORIOUSLY late for everything. I used to think it was out of carelessness or just rudeness. Unfortunately I have been cursed, or blessed, with the same tendency. I was always worried about doing the same, but today I really understood and appreciated more of why he is always late. He, and I, cannot say no. When people ask for help I put my needs, and my family's unfortuntatley, to make sure that the people around me are taken care of. Isn't that what church is about...community on steroids. I want to help as many people as I can while I can. But understanding balance is key too, and I have to learn to give my family times as well.

The most important part of today was Avery. I realize that the only reason I give my time, energy, and effort is because I saw my dad do it relentlessly. I remember visiting the sick, working with the elderly, singing at nursing homes, giving time to his family, the list would literally take hours. I realized that while my dad didn't always to a great job telling me how to live, he was spectacular at showing me. I realized today that for me to instill in Avery what I want him to do with his time, I must use some of mine to take him with me to see what Christians should be doing for each other.


--Be Excellent to Each Other