I know I'm new to this blog world, but thanks already for reading what I have to write. From now on, I'll be posted at a different blog address so please continue to follow me here:
www.theunexpectedharvest.com
See you there.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
A Simple Acknowledgement
Someone once told me that we should never "just get over it." Getting over it implies that we should forget and move on. The truth is that the things that happen to us, the people we meet, and the experiences we have are all what make us who we are. So instead of getting over it and forgetting, we should simply remember and move forward, not move on.
It's now been a couple weeks since the news of Luke, Anthony, and Katie's death and disappearance stopped showing up on front page headlines, but it's still front page news to those of us who knew the three of them and loved them so dearly. I spent Christmas with my family up in the Puget Sound where I grew up. We had nearly 20 close friends and family members at our house for Christmas dinner, but before they arrived, I shared with my mom that I was slightly anxious. All of them were well informed that Anthony was a dear friend of mine and that I had been living the news they had all been watching on TV. I didn't know how long I would last being around so many people, or how they would greet me, or if they would even acknowledge my grief. To my comfort, many of them did, even if it was just with a simply hug and an "I'm so sorry for your loss." That was enough. To certain people, I talked more openly about my experience, but mostly I just accepted their kindness and sympathy. I let my family into my grieving process a bit more though. At one point in the evening, a wave of emotion washed over me and I excused myself and sat on the stairs going up to my mom's art studio for a long while by myself just thinking, and praying, and crying. Not long after I had been sitting there, my mom gently put her hand on my knee and said, "I noticed you had been missing for a while. Just wanted to make sure you were okay." I told her that I was missing Anthony because this is what Thanksgiving was like when he was here. She sat with me for quite some time and we just talked and shared our memories of Anthony together. She held my grief well and helped me in the moving forward process.
Unfortunately, there are some people who don't know how to hold someone's grief. I've noticed this not only with acquaintances that know my connection to the story, but also with good friends that I got to visit while I was at home. For me, it's harder to interact with someone who doesn't acknowledge the huge elephant in the room. A simple, "I'm so sorry for your loss" is more than enough kindness to let me know they are thinking about me. It's very validating. Perhaps they are thinking that if I wanted to talk about it, I would bring it up. Or maybe they don't want to be the one to bring it back to my attention when maybe I've forgotten for a while. Well, none of us have forgotten or moved on. But to their defense, I'm not sure if I would have known that a simple acknowledgment and hug would be good medicine for the heart. Walking a mile in someone else's shoes is quite eye-opening.
But now I know that when someone is walking through the grieving process, holding their pain can be as simple as three words and an embrace. If they want to talk, they will take it from there. I'm challenged to help those who grieve move forward, not just "get over it."
It's now been a couple weeks since the news of Luke, Anthony, and Katie's death and disappearance stopped showing up on front page headlines, but it's still front page news to those of us who knew the three of them and loved them so dearly. I spent Christmas with my family up in the Puget Sound where I grew up. We had nearly 20 close friends and family members at our house for Christmas dinner, but before they arrived, I shared with my mom that I was slightly anxious. All of them were well informed that Anthony was a dear friend of mine and that I had been living the news they had all been watching on TV. I didn't know how long I would last being around so many people, or how they would greet me, or if they would even acknowledge my grief. To my comfort, many of them did, even if it was just with a simply hug and an "I'm so sorry for your loss." That was enough. To certain people, I talked more openly about my experience, but mostly I just accepted their kindness and sympathy. I let my family into my grieving process a bit more though. At one point in the evening, a wave of emotion washed over me and I excused myself and sat on the stairs going up to my mom's art studio for a long while by myself just thinking, and praying, and crying. Not long after I had been sitting there, my mom gently put her hand on my knee and said, "I noticed you had been missing for a while. Just wanted to make sure you were okay." I told her that I was missing Anthony because this is what Thanksgiving was like when he was here. She sat with me for quite some time and we just talked and shared our memories of Anthony together. She held my grief well and helped me in the moving forward process.
Unfortunately, there are some people who don't know how to hold someone's grief. I've noticed this not only with acquaintances that know my connection to the story, but also with good friends that I got to visit while I was at home. For me, it's harder to interact with someone who doesn't acknowledge the huge elephant in the room. A simple, "I'm so sorry for your loss" is more than enough kindness to let me know they are thinking about me. It's very validating. Perhaps they are thinking that if I wanted to talk about it, I would bring it up. Or maybe they don't want to be the one to bring it back to my attention when maybe I've forgotten for a while. Well, none of us have forgotten or moved on. But to their defense, I'm not sure if I would have known that a simple acknowledgment and hug would be good medicine for the heart. Walking a mile in someone else's shoes is quite eye-opening.
But now I know that when someone is walking through the grieving process, holding their pain can be as simple as three words and an embrace. If they want to talk, they will take it from there. I'm challenged to help those who grieve move forward, not just "get over it."
Sunday, December 27, 2009
It's gonna feel like Heaven when we're home.
Anthony was made for Heaven. That has become more and more clear as the days and weeks pass and the more reflection and discovery we all walk through. I stopped at Chris and Mel's in Longview on my way back to Portland this afternoon to see Jon and LaDonna before they head back to Montana. As LaDonna, Mel and I visited in the kitchen, she told me that they had spent some time going through Anthony's room as a family. I've been thinking about what that would look like and how hard that would be, so I'm glad they all did it together. They found a couple things that, combined with many of the stories we've heard and many of the memories we have of Anthony, show us that his days were clearly numbered (Psalm 139:16) and perhaps he knew that.
Not only did his love and passion for the Lord show us that he was excited about living with Him eternally, but the fact that he loved the mountains so much means that maybe he went to those high places because he felt nearer to God and closer to Heaven. After all, Jesus went to the high places when we wanted to pray (Luke 6:12), so why wouldn't we do the same? And why wouldn't Anthony? My mom could easily see that perhaps Anthony wasn't made for here. She send me a text saying, "Anthony always seemed to have one foot on earth and another pulling him toward Heaven. I think that's why he was so drawn to climbing." Beautifully said, Mom. Anthony even told some of his youth group kids that if he could choose the way he left this earth, he would want to die on a mountain. The more I think about it, the more that brings me such a divine peace.
Today, when LaDonna, Mel, and I were talking in the kitchen, LaDonna asked me if I had ever seen the photo of Anthony at the beach. I shook my head and said that I hadn't so she described the picture to me. The lens was angled down at Anthony's feet (which resembled those of a hobbit: small and hairy) and in the sand surrounding his feet, he had written "Heaven" and drawn a circle around it. She said that the photo was inspired by a song about heaven encircling us or something like that (I've never heard the song so I don't know the lyrics verbatim). She found that picture in his room along with a ring of Anthony's that Jon is going to wear from now on in honor of his son. The ring was a class ring Anthony got in high school and on one side of it, it said "John 13:34" which says, "A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another." On the other side, it simply said, "Heaven" and had a ray of sun underneath it. It's no wonder where Anthony's home was.
Though we miss him so and want him home with us to hug and to hold and to laugh with and to eat delicious (or not so delicious) food with, we are all the more comforted knowing that he is at Home. His life was lived in such an abundance that he didn't miss the moments or the experiences or the relationships. Those who grieve as the world grieves would say that at the young age of nearly 26, his life didn't come full circle. But I truly believe that his life has come around more fully than any of ours have...yet.
As I sat up at Timberline lodge on one of the latter days of the search, I listened to a song called "Arise and Be Comforted" by one of my favorite bands called Watermark. The song was inspired by Isaiah 40, but the part that stuck out to me was the part based on verses 29-31. The song goes, "Lift your eyes to spacious skies, let Him chart your way to fly, spread your wings and fly, for the Lord, He is good." I closed my eyes, and as the tears pushed out through my lids and down my cheeks, I had this image of Anthony looking upward and flying off that mountain toward the Heaven which he always talked about and longed for.
Like our good friend Dave said in an interview with the reporter at Anth't memorial, "it's a relief knowing that he loved Jesus." Though there are more tears to fall, and more grief to walk through, we find our peace in knowing that Anthony is home and that the Lord's grace is sufficient no matter what may come our way. May it all put our thought towards Heaven, the way Anthony's were.
Not only did his love and passion for the Lord show us that he was excited about living with Him eternally, but the fact that he loved the mountains so much means that maybe he went to those high places because he felt nearer to God and closer to Heaven. After all, Jesus went to the high places when we wanted to pray (Luke 6:12), so why wouldn't we do the same? And why wouldn't Anthony? My mom could easily see that perhaps Anthony wasn't made for here. She send me a text saying, "Anthony always seemed to have one foot on earth and another pulling him toward Heaven. I think that's why he was so drawn to climbing." Beautifully said, Mom. Anthony even told some of his youth group kids that if he could choose the way he left this earth, he would want to die on a mountain. The more I think about it, the more that brings me such a divine peace.
Today, when LaDonna, Mel, and I were talking in the kitchen, LaDonna asked me if I had ever seen the photo of Anthony at the beach. I shook my head and said that I hadn't so she described the picture to me. The lens was angled down at Anthony's feet (which resembled those of a hobbit: small and hairy) and in the sand surrounding his feet, he had written "Heaven" and drawn a circle around it. She said that the photo was inspired by a song about heaven encircling us or something like that (I've never heard the song so I don't know the lyrics verbatim). She found that picture in his room along with a ring of Anthony's that Jon is going to wear from now on in honor of his son. The ring was a class ring Anthony got in high school and on one side of it, it said "John 13:34" which says, "A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another." On the other side, it simply said, "Heaven" and had a ray of sun underneath it. It's no wonder where Anthony's home was.
Though we miss him so and want him home with us to hug and to hold and to laugh with and to eat delicious (or not so delicious) food with, we are all the more comforted knowing that he is at Home. His life was lived in such an abundance that he didn't miss the moments or the experiences or the relationships. Those who grieve as the world grieves would say that at the young age of nearly 26, his life didn't come full circle. But I truly believe that his life has come around more fully than any of ours have...yet.
As I sat up at Timberline lodge on one of the latter days of the search, I listened to a song called "Arise and Be Comforted" by one of my favorite bands called Watermark. The song was inspired by Isaiah 40, but the part that stuck out to me was the part based on verses 29-31. The song goes, "Lift your eyes to spacious skies, let Him chart your way to fly, spread your wings and fly, for the Lord, He is good." I closed my eyes, and as the tears pushed out through my lids and down my cheeks, I had this image of Anthony looking upward and flying off that mountain toward the Heaven which he always talked about and longed for.
Like our good friend Dave said in an interview with the reporter at Anth't memorial, "it's a relief knowing that he loved Jesus." Though there are more tears to fall, and more grief to walk through, we find our peace in knowing that Anthony is home and that the Lord's grace is sufficient no matter what may come our way. May it all put our thought towards Heaven, the way Anthony's were.
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