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That
man-child who has gone ½ way 'round the world continues to amaze us
and make us look like better parents than we've been on our best day.
After his recovery from near fatal jet lag, he bounced back to his
happy-go-lucky self. He's been walking around and exploring. He's
networked with his Aussie church of choice. He has pinned down such
level headed things as how much a doctor's visit costs as well as how
much his normal asthma meds will set us back if he needs treatment
while there. Smart fella, he is.
If
that wasn't enough, he has contacted the marketing department of a
75-story skyscraper to work out a business deal. He hopes to take
sunrise pictures from an observation deck for their PR campaigns. He
hasn't even started the project he's there for and is hustling to
seal the deal on a new one.
Where'd
he GET all that hustle? Maybe from his Dad who never quits no matter
how sick he is or how the monster in the shadows has tried to defeat
him? My husband sometimes thinks he has failed as a father. From
where I sit tonight, I see his handiwork all over our son's hustle.
When our son succeeds, I will see the seeds his dad planted every day
he got up and kept going even when the odds said he should just lay
down and quit. I hope my husband will allow himself the luxury of
seeing that fruit and relishing in it...if only for a moment.
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Life
goes on for all of us. As our adventure plays out, I am affected by
the stories playing out in other lives. One of Son #1's best friends
has located his birth parents. It amuses me how my life intersects
with those around me. As I wrote about adoption, he got the news that
his birth parents married within a year of his birth. They have been
married for 28 years. He has 3 younger siblings – one the age of
Son #2 with whom he so graciously interacts when he has the chance.
He'll be as wonderful a brother as he is a husband, father, and
friend.
I've
cried all day over their joy. At least...I tell myself it is their
joy. It is surely NOT my flipping on the porch light only to realize
that Son #1 is not coming home after dark tonight and will not need
that light. It's easier that way.
More
poignantly, another death has caught me unawares. Yesterday, I had
never heard of Sunday Ibok. Long ago and far away, a little boy was
too young to be my ring bearer. His sister was my flower girl and is
now the mother of my grand-flower-baby. Reyn turns another year older
tomorrow and is a grown man now. Sunday was his friend. They were
brothers in the Lord.
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Reyn
called home to say that Sunday had been stricken with a brain
aneurysm. The prognosis was grim. His New York City church did what
church families do. They joined ranks and began to pray. Some left
for TX to be with Sunday's family and to be closer to him while the
doctors did what doctors try to do against all odds.
As
I have been told, Sunday was a great one for social media. Even as
the headache that signaled trouble was a-brew grew worse, Sunday was
tweeting. I did ok regarding Sunday Ibok until I heard what his last
tweet was. Then, my tears flowed again. You didn't have to meet
Sunday to understand the depth of his faith. All you had to do was
know the substance of his last tweet. It was one word:
Faithful
Tonight,
I weep silent tears over another man I never knew. Just a month ago,
I grieved the passing of a man my age whose books profoundly
influenced my experience as the mother of sons. Now, I grieve the
death of a man, young enough to be my son, whose one word impacted me
as profoundly as the 4 books written by Bob Schultz.
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His
friends will never wonder how he felt about his God. They will only
have to look down at their gizmo – be it iPhone, Blackberry, iPad,
etc. I can't imagine that a single one will ever delete that word as
long as their gizmo lasts.
Tonight,
I consider my wrestling match with God. If Sunday Ibok ever had one,
the battle was over. His coat of arms told the story of victory in
that one last tweet. His tweet will echo far into the future as it
bears fruit in the lives of those he loved and who loved him.
My
heart has been full to overflowing today. I watched a young man, a
father of his own little man, finding his roots. I watched my son
take wings and fly. Even as my son embarked on a grand adventure,
Sunday made his final flight into the arms of glory. Life moves on
and takes us with it to our final end.
I
ask myself, when I have said all and written all.....will my last
word be as powerful as the last one Sunday uttered via twitter? I
hang my head in shame as I consider the wrestling match of my life.
If only....and please....let it be. Sunday Ibok, thank you. May your
word do for others what it did for me.
1
Corinthians 1:9 (NIV)
Deuteronomy
7:9 (Bible in Basic English)
Be
certain, then, that the Lord your God is God; whose faith and mercy
are unchanging, who keeps his word through a thousand generations to
those who have love for him and keep his laws;
I thinks me friend is finding her way back, eh?
ReplyDeleteThanks for the VOC! Me :p
ReplyDeleteLorene...one can hope...do you think?
ReplyDeleteJeff, you are due the VOC many times over...
ReplyDeleteloved reading this :)
ReplyDeleteCatching up... yeah... I shed a few tears at this one. (Liz W)
ReplyDeleteLiz, thanks so much for 'catching up' and for your kind words re my memory of this dear, sweet girl!
ReplyDeleteCarol Anne, I found your blog through a mutual friend S.Kim Henson.I love your writing.It touches the heart.That one word I recall used in a bishop ordination in our church when the new bishops were charged: "Be (thou) Faithful."
ReplyDeleteMy sincerest thanks. I'm so glad you found me and that my writing resonates with you. Kim gives me quite a few chuckles. You are lucky to have her as a friend!
ReplyDelete