Homecoming Message 2010

The Bad
Spring of 2005…we seemed to be living life. The spring had been a very blessed time with the exception of the things that had went on with Jeff and coaching volleyball earlier that spring that hurt our family deeply. As a family we had went to Florida to stay with my parents and enjoy spring break. All 5 of us (Jeff, Sar, Adam, Em and I) had all drove down and enjoyed the ride down and the change in the seasons. I remember Em always wanting to ride in the front because her long legs kept getting cramped. We all sang to “Hola Back Girl” by Gwen Stefani and “Walk This Way” by Aerosmith as we cranked the radio and lowered the windows. We also did some road trips to Daytona Beach where the kids all parasailed together and spent the day at Typhoon Lagoon at Disney that vacation. Em had made the National 16’s team with FarOut Volleyball a few weeks before spring break and weekends were spent traveling and competing. Sar and Adam were enjoying all of the fun of their senior year with prom dress shopping, planning for open houses and GVSU was soon to follow. In May, Em’s team qualified for Nationals that would be held in Salt Lake City, UT at the end of June and into July. I remember feeling so blessed, content, happy and fulfilled. Then fall came and we moved our Sar into GVSU and Em and her shared a long hug and tears when we left the dorm. I would be back to work, only now at West El and Jeff would be coaching 7th grade basketball with some of the girls that he had grown to love as his ball girls when he was coaching volleyball. Two weeks before Em’s accident, Jeff was hit by a girl that never stopped at the stop sign right before the middle school on his way to practice. Em heard about the accident and a friend took her to the corner only to find our car totaled and Jeff in the ambulance with a neck brace on and Em could hardly take it. Jeff was taken to the hospital to be checked out. Sarah had been called and came from work. We all went for dinner that night and Em couldn’t quit crying. She was so worried and told us she didn’t know what she would do if something happened to her dad. Em would go to the middle school and work out after Jeff’s practices in preparation for her upcoming volleyball season with a new coach. She would also find herself going to all the football games and loving the tailgating and being with friends and trying to find a time some weekend to spend with Sar at Grand Valley. In Em’s planner, she had October 8th circled and highlighted and penciled in “GVSU with Sar”. That date never ended up happening.

October 4, 2005.…I was at the Middle School helping the early primary kids find their buses. Em and Kayla came to the middle school to ask if Em could go to Kayla’s house after school. I had just begun taking an adult tap class because I was having a hard time with Sarah now being out of the house and Em was always on the go and, with Jeff coaching, it seemed too quiet and a bit lonely.

The mEMory of her that day is vivid and happy as she bounced away with her holey jeans, tank top and turquoise bra strap showing as she had shed the other shirt because of the beautiful fall day. She said she’d call after my dance class so I could pick her up and take her to Kim Johnson’s house. The Johnson family loved Em and she was going to visit with Kim while Gibby was away with the military. I had just gotten home and shed my shoes when the phone rang. It was Kim Durham, Kayla’s mom, frantic and crying saying that the girls had been in an accident. She said that Kayla was okay but Em was trapped under the vehicle. I asked where the accident was and raced out the door, not even taking the time to put on shoes. I prayed and cried out loud, pleading for God to do something. “Just let her live Lord, let it be okay”. Fear would rise up, then peace return. I think the struggle between the two came from the knowledge that these things can be our worst nightmare as I had watched my co-worker and friend, Connie Sines, grieve their precious son just 6 months earlier. The peace came from my mind not wanting to go there. I was also remembering the Christmas day when Sar and Em rolled Sarah’s car on the way to Christmas dinner with our cousins, the Morris’, and that they never hardly got a scratch. I did however cry a cry I had never had before (that cry, even deeper than I could ever imagine would return and be my constant companion in a week and the weeks, months and years to follow)…..deep and wrenching….as I drove like a crazy woman to the accident site. I remember looking down at the speedometer and seeing 110 mph as I came up on an RV that I almost rear-ended. I was totally out of my mind, but had enough sense to slow down some and be a bit more in control. When I got to the corner where I needed to turn, at the Martin Road – State Road intersection, I never saw the scene until I was out of my car racing towards it, sock footed but feeling no pain of the stones beneath me. I know that God had blinded my eyes to what awaited me until He had given me a sense of strength and an eerie calm that was not of my own. I then saw more firemen, police cars, ambulance personnel then I had ever seen at one place. I did not see or hear the aero-med helicopter until they told me I couldn’t go with Em. I know now because of driving that same route to try and recall what had taken place, that there was no way for me not to see the site from State Road. God had to have sheltered me from the site that I would be facing soon enough. I saw Kayla dirty and crying and I remember Kim, full of fear and sorrow and at some point saying she was so sorry and that she should have never let them go. (I remember telling Kim at some point, maybe it was at the hospital, that even if Em had called and asked me, I would have said it was okay with me for them to go. I never blamed Kim for allowing them to go. It was just girls being girls and they had gone to ride in a combine with Justin Gillons, innocently enough). Ray, Kayla’s dad, was on the embankment where the car was lying, wheels all facing up. His eyes were compassionate and caring but I think were both afraid of what we might see once Em was extricated from underneath the car. I tried to get between the first responders and got down on all fours to talk to Em. I kept saying “Mom’s here hun, hang in there, they are getting you out…Mom’s here, I love you, Mom’s here hun, you are gonna be okay”. All the while I couldn’t see anything of Em or the dash. She was too embedded in the ground I would later learn. The responders would help me to my feet and kindly say, “You need to stand back, we’ll be getting her out” and I recall some emergency workers trying to lift the car up some by prying it up with a device that appeared to be a board. I would stand by Ray, and then move forward again, squatting down to yell out to her again. After what seemed like forever, she was dragged out, somehow already on a stretcher. I don’t remember all the details like if she had a neck collar on or not or what they did, if anything, after she was freed. (I also recall more details that I just don’t want to share.) She was filthy, and lots of glass embedded into her face and a huge, fat cut-up lip. As soon she was released she said “Where’s my mom?” They told her I was right there and she said “I think I’m paralyzed mom, cuz I can’t feel my legs, but don’t worry… I’m gonna be okay… I’ll be okay Mom”. These words play over and over in my mind everyday. I would reply, “I know Lou, we can do this. We have you, and we’re all gonna be okay”. This short but repeated conversation would be said as they took her down the embankment and towards a waiting helicopter which just then I had heard and recognized. Somebody helped me down too as I followed only to be told I could not go with her. I don’t remember really arguing but I was devastated that I couldn’t go. They told me to meet them at Spectrum Health. They said she would be there in approximately 9-11 minutes. I didn’t see the helicopter leave as emergency personnel helped me to go in between 2 ambulances to shield us from flying dust that the helicopters blades would stir up. I’m sure more shock was setting in and I was asked if I thought I could drive to the hospital. Somehow, I had enough sense to tell them no. I knew that would be more than I could do as I recalled the 110 mph drive that somehow got me there. I got in a police car and used the officers phone to try and contact someone. (When I had left home, I didn’t bring anything, no purse, no cell phone or anything.) I didn’t have any further contact with the Durham’s at the site as they headed to Pennock Hospital to have Kayla looked at.

Jeff was at Haslett Middle School coaching and I couldn’t get a hold of him. The officer told me that they would send someone there to get a hold of Jeff which never happened. I couldn’t get a hold of any close family member as everyone was attending a ballgame of some sort. I finally got a hold of Uncle Ron France and he met me at the corner of Martin Road and Coats Grove Road and took me to the hospital. The whole while, he was so calm and witnessed me, together and then falling apart, and constantly, frantically using his cell phone to call family. I finally got a hold of Jeff on our way to Grand Rapids. He was in the locker room with his team and I asked him if he had gotten the message. He said “no, what message?” I said “I need to talk to Jeff Hynes”, knowing that what I had to say would be too devastating and I needed Jeff H. to be with him. I finally just told him about what was happening but constantly reassuring him and myself that we still had her and that she was alive. I told him that Em thought she was paralyzed but we would all be okay. Jeff Hynes brought Jeff from Haslett and broke speed limits and what a long and excruciating drive it was for them. I got a hold of Sarah at her dance studio on Plainfield. This was the second time in 2 weeks that she had gotten one of these calls. (Jeff was in that accident by the middle school just 2 weeks prior.) The ride was forever and I kept thinking about Em being all alone in the emergency room which brought on more panic. Uncle Ron dropped me at the emergency doors and I ran in, still shoeless, and everyone in there was gawking at me. Someone was waiting for me and they whisked me into a small and private room where a social worker was with me and told me what was going to take place. Sar arrived shortly and she was beside herself to say the least….panic and grief stricken. I tried to regain a calm about me to help settle her. I told her what Em had said to me and that we were all gonna be okay…because we still had her and it appeared there was no head injuries. I think we talked about Eric Chase as well and used him as our example. Uncle Ron joined us in that room and then the doctors came in and told us the plan for surgery and said we could go in to see Em. I don’t remember when and how all the rest of the family was notified or when they came into emergency to see Em, but they were all there within the hour I think. I don’t even remember when Jeff got there. I just know that the room was full of family all wanting to talk to Em. Even as I am now writing this, I’m surprised at how many of the details I’ve lost, like my car being left on Martin Road, and how we got Em’s backpack and cell phone back from the scene (I think the Durham’s handled all that), but I also know that it’s all part of the post traumatic stress that I now suffer from.

Once we got into the ER and talked to Em, I felt somewhat relieved. I was able to touch her, kiss her dirty face, and stroke her hair. She had constant tears streaming from her face as she was cold, scared, and reeling from the knowledge that her life as she had known it probably wouldn’t ever be the same. I would reassure her that we could do this and that we were all still together and that was what mattered most. She would reply “you’re right mom. I thought I was going to die. They told me in the helicopter to just close my eyes and rest but I didn’t cuz I thought I would die. I had a hard time breathing and thought I was dying so I just prayed for God to let me live”. And then I would reply “I know hun, we’ve got you here, there is no head injury and you are still our Em”…meaning to me that the sweet spirit she had was not affected by brain injury and we could do and handle everything else. I thought of what a tough road it might be but at least we had her and that was more than enough! I would walk away for a bit, lose it, and let others have their say with Em. Most of the time, someone would be talking to her and others would be standing on the sides of her just stroking and touching her legs, even though she could not feel the touch anymore. I would return to her side and, just as mom’s do, try and clean her up some. I remember stroking her badly swollen lip and gently trying to pick the windshield fragments out of her face and the bigger ones from the corners of her eyes. This is one of those memories that affects me the most. There is a sweetness about caring for your child but the reality of what she endured in that crash is more than my mind can handle.

We at some point in the ER talked about the accident. Em was able to talk freely at that point. It was somewhat labored and hard to breathe but she said that they were with Justin combining for awhile but left to go back to Kayla’s house. (The accident happened shortly after 5. We still have her cell phone to hear her voice and the last call she made was at 5:04.) Em stated that she felt Kayla was driving too fast and was glad when they came to the stop sign at Martin and State Road because Kayla’s driving was scaring her. (You have to remember too that Sar and Em 10 months before had rolled Sar’s car, so Em would have been very conscientious of that feeling.) She told me that as they started again that she felt Kayla was again going to fast and asked her to slow down. She said they then started to fishtail and then hitting the embankment was the last thing she remembered. Kayla says that Emily grabbed the wheel. We don’t know if she did or not. When asked, Emily did not remember. When asked by the officer while on the ventilator, Emily blinked “yes” that Kayla had told her she did grab the wheel and Emily very well may have. We don’t discount what Kayla says to be true. We believe that if Em did in fact grab the wheel, it was in a knee-jerk reaction to being scared and panicked at the car being driven too fast and going into a slide/fishtail situation. For us, it’s a non-issue. The reality is that an accident happened. And we have never blamed Kayla for it. We do, however, feel that they were going to fast for a dirt road conditions and accidents happen all the time unfortunately. We can only attempt to tell our story in hopes that others will not have the same pain that both families live with now.

They then talked to us about the surgery that was going to happen. They said Em had a break at her C-5 vertebrae and they would be going into surgery to repair it and remove the fragments. It appeared that she would have no other broken bones. She went into surgery and as news traveled, so many kind and caring people showed up in the waiting room. Most of us hardly spoke as we just waited. It was a long night and a long surgery. So much happened, little things really in the scheme of it all, but significant to us was we experienced the kindness of so many. People started moving, plans were being made. People wanted to help, food was arriving, games, cards, gifts for Em, flowers, balloons, stuffed animals. Clothes were brought up for us, arrangements for putting a handicap ramp on the house were in full swing, gas cards being sent, non-stop visitors, insurance adjusters arriving to help with preparations to make our whole home handicap assessable, and people arriving to spend time in the hospital chapel to pray. Our FarOut friends arranged and paid for our stay at the Renucci House, FCA nation-wide prayer was in affect for Em as well as Em was being put on every prayer chain around….and heck, someone even came and weeded my flower garden at home just to help. Em’s friends were a constant, as was our family and extended family. Our dear friends the Hynes’ never missed a day and our beloved volleyball friends were there throughout. We experienced such amazing support and our strength was being renewed daily by the power of prayer and the love that was flowing.

The first couple of days were just okay. Em was experiencing a lot of pain in her neck and shoulders and we were happy to get her breathing tube out and even somewhat happy that she had some pain…at least it meant she had feeling. When the doctor told her that the breathing tube would come out she sweetly whispered, “thank you”. Em also underwent several surgeries in those first few days. There would be screens put in her legs to prevent blood clots from breaking loose and a feeding tube in her groin to help her until she could eat on her own and the tracheotomy. At night Em would have a hard time breathing so they provided us with a syringe to help her suck out the phlegm and a respiratory nurse would come in and place a tube down Em’s throat and down to her stomach to suck out the excess…horrible procedure. Linsey, Em’s nurse, would give her what she called “the spa treatment” and sponge bathe her and wash her hair. She even put on music to do so. Em would ask that Sar be the one to brush out those beautiful curls. Before the breathing tube was taken out, Em had to mouth her spoken words around the tube. Sarah was the best at deciphering but Adam was pretty good at it too. But mostly it was the blinking game that communicated in those early days.

The days were long, and the nights were longer. And every time I would hear another aero-med would land, I would fall apart. We slept in her room and showered in our Renucci suite. My mom and dad had just arrived in Florida when Em’s accident happened. They immediately flew home. They used the Renucci more than us and I’m so grateful for it. I wasn’t sure if they could survive what was going on. Their grandchildren were their life and they were such proud grandparents. They had traveled with us to Salt Lake City to watch Em compete, never missed a dance recital, and had paid for several elaborate vacations for our families to enjoy together. Their grand-daughters were everything to them. After a few days, it looked as though Em might be progressing. She was asking to see her friends and asking for Berry Propel. Adam went and got her a 6 pack of it and she downed it. The talk was of getting her up and into a chair in preparation for the move to Mary Free Bed. Eric Chase came often and was excited about helping and mentoring Em. We had some good long talks at Em’s bedside and Eric’s parents gave us advice on things to do and not to do. Homecoming week was approaching (Em’s most favorite time of the year) and she asked the doctors if she could go to the game and just watch from the infield in an ambulance. They said maybe watching it via web-cam would be the better idea. Her friends were making plans to bring up Applebee’s dinner and show Em their Homecoming dresses. The physical therapist started coming to exercise Em’s upper body and strengthen her arms. Em would say that she knew she wouldn’t be able to play volleyball anymore but she could coach and would maybe take up piano again. She had a great attitude, would have bouts of sadness, but kept positive for the most part.

Some time was spent in the waiting room where we could talk to friends and family. For the most part we stayed close to Em. One thing that happened in those early days in the hospital was while in the waiting room we witnessed a Spanish family whose son was ill. They couldn’t speak English but we were traveling the same unknown road. On one day, we had heard from the staff that their son has passed away. We saw their family gather in the waiting room and have a meal together. We watched and agonized over their grief, feeling so grateful that we weren’t in their shoes. Jeff was so moved and saddened for them that without much spoken word, he hugged the father and told him how sorry we were for their loss and put $500 cash in his hand. The man wept and thanked us the best he could but we were the ones who were most grateful that their situation wasn’t our reality. They left as a family and we never heard or saw them again. We NEVER thought that a few days later we would be in their position.

So this is where the “Bad” turns to “Ugly”…..and we start to experience the valley of the shadow….not ever knowing how deep it would be and how long must we suffer. But all the while, even in that dark, dark, place…His rod and His staff would comfort us, and He used you who are reading this to sustain and support us and help us to go on.

The Ugly
Things started to change on, I think it was the Saturday night, the 8th. Em had spiked a high fever of 106.4. Clergy from our area churches had come to anoint Em with oil as the Bible calls for in scripture. I would read scripture over her often and read it constantly in the night as we kept vigilance Some verses over and over again like Psalm 91 – the whole chapter. The Psalms were a favorite, like Psalm 27:1-3 and then skip to verse 13-14 being careful to avoid the parts that talk about “dwelling in the house of the Lord”. I wasn’t ready to go there. 1 Peter 5:6-11 was another one that was repeatedly voiced. And every time I would pray over Em or read scripture, I would see tears stream down her face. I know it spoke to her hurting spirit as she was struggling but trying to be strong. Jeff would hold her face and pray quietly in her ear. It was beautiful and we felt such love for our Lou and our Lord.

About this time, around the 4th day in the hospital, many of us began to witness some agitation with Em. There were some strange things happening that someday we may more openly share, but because of the audience that may be reading this, we’ll just say that God showed up in the room. It was evident to us and others, even medical staff, that Em was not hallucinating but rather, more than likely, talking with Jesus. We watched this continue off and on for a few days and saw her go from a concerned or questioning face to having peace and calm on her countenance as the days passed. (Many will find it “nuts” and that’s okay. It’s our story and we lived it and know what we experienced and we were blessed to have witnessed it.) When those times would subside, Em would be Em again. saying that she hurt or needed us to scratch an itch under her vest that attached to the halo she was wearing. She never talked about the “encounter” and we never asked. I don’t know why other than we never thought she would leave us so what was the point…we’d ask all those questions when she was home and stronger I think.

On Sunday, Dr. John Winters came in. He was the one scheduled for the weekend I guess and a doctor who cares for us deeply. (We share the same deep faith and he checks on us periodically. He and his family came to Em’s honorary open house that we held for her for what would have been her senior year.) He told us that adults can bear temperatures as high as 108 degrees before brain damage occurs and that Em was a strong and athletic girl. They did some brain scans and determined that Em did not have any brain damage even with the high temp at this point. The temperature was the biggest concern and no one understood what had happened or brought it on. It was a crazy place. Everyone was trying to figure out what was going wrong and see about a possible infection that had surfaced to cause the spikes. Before this, everything looked good and they were planning on a transfer to Mary Free Bed. We began calling the farmer of the field where Kayla’s car had landed to see what kind of pesticides he used. A MSU infectious doctor was called in as everyone was baffled at the change in Em’s situation. They were checking the trach area too but nothing was surfacing. They couldn’t identify the cause or the kind of infection to really know how to begin to treat it. We were at a loss. They kept Em pretty medicated. For the first time in almost a week, I slept, actually slept in the bed next to Em. Jeff went to the Renucci house for a few hours before returning to change shifts with me and let me shower. We just couldn’t do one more night without sleep and they arranged for a nursing student from GVSU to come and sit with Em to calm our nerves. We wanted the assurance that someone would be in there at all times and alert. We were to the point of exhaustion.

Monday, the 10th, was just a bad day. They were still trying to find out what all was going on with Em with no answers to be found. If I remember correctly, Em hadn’t responded to many at all that day. Sar called Kellie Rowland and gave her an update. (To those of you who don’t know, Kellie was the Varsity Volleyball coach when Em began as a ball girl. Kellie influenced Em a great deal and instilled in her the love of the game. See more about this on this website under the “volleyball” section.) Kellie came in later that day to see Em. Peggy Buche was also in the room and as soon as Em heard Kellie she came around some. She was agitated but tried to show Kellie how she could still swing her arm, like spiking a volleyball. Kellie would tell her to rest and we were all amazed at her response. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for Kellie. Kellie had given her so much…time, attention, praise, yes, even an occasional beat down to make her perform better, but Em loved Kellie and knew that Kellie loved her. Much later that day they placed Em in a medicated coma to protect her. They wanted her to rest and heal without interruption. The last conversation I had with Em was just prior to the coma. I fed her some jello by spoon and gave her some more Propel…her favorite. She was teary and said, “Mom, I just wanna go home”. I said, “I know baby, we will, soon, real soon”.

During that time my scripture readings would be changing. Somehow I started reading scriptures that gave me a different outlook and I believed that maybe God was trying to tell me something but I didn’t want to hear. I wouldn’t hear… and I’d brush them off as “bad thinking”. Scriptures like Isaiah 41:31 which was Em’s FarOut teams verse for the season. The part where it says, “they will soar like on wings of eagles”…I didn’t want Em to soar…I just wanted her to “run and not grow weary”. Or the 1 Peter 4:12 that talks about “our suffering so that you may be overjoyed when his glory is revealed”….again, don’t want the glory thing….just Em to be okay. And another that I kept turning to as I was searching for hope was Isaiah 40:11. It goes, “He tends his flock like a shepherd and gathers the lambs in his arms. He carries them close to his heart and leads those that have young”. A verse that I always loved as a mom but was now strangely giving me a different vibe like “I hope God doesn’t gather Em in his arms”. I was struggling but chalked it up to being tired emotionally and fought off the thoughts.

Monday night, the 10th, was the first time Jeff, I and Sar and Adam all slept at the Renucci House together. Em was in an induced medicated coma and resting. At about 3 a.m. our phone rang. They told us that Em’s kidneys were failing and another temperature spike was occurring. They were going to put her on a dialysis machine and it would also allow the blood to cool through this procedure. We were told it was not uncommon as sometimes unessential organs will quit in order to keep the heart and brain going and that there was no need to come but they just wanted to inform us to what was happening. I took an article that was in the Lake-O news that had a picture of Em in it and held it and wept as I tried to go back to sleep for a few minutes not wanting to face another day. A little while later, we gathered ourselves, showered and we’re back up in Em’s room to find her on a bed of ice and the room temperature was freezing. They indicated that temperature spike had gotten to 106.8 and they were trying to control it. It was working. Her body temperature was back down but still no answers for the spike in temperature or the infection that they were fighting. They could not figure out how she could spike a temperature and not loose her breathing function. After a surgery like Em’s, there is a thing called an edema that will float in the spinal column until it is dissolved. They thought maybe the edema was traveling up and down in the column and reeking havoc as it traveled, but typically you will lose your ability to breathe when the edema is at C-3 before you will overheat when the edema hit’s the brain stem. Em was still breathing on her own so none of it made sense.

It’s now Tuesday morning, the 11th of October, and everyone was baffled and a conference was called between all doctors and personnel. We asked Jeff and Kris Hyes to go in with us as we were totally “spent” by now. They helped ask questions and recorded the answers. I don’t remember much about the meeting. I remember Jeff asking what Em’s chances were. He asked “would you give her 50% chance of making it?”, and the one doctor replied “I don’t think I would give her that”. I said, “I appreciate everything you’ve done and respect your expertise but you are not God” and he said “you are right”. Another doctor said he had seen people with far more severity then Em make it and be fine, even regaining all function, and that he had seen people with far less damage be worse off then Em. He said dealing with the spinal cord is just a mystery. We left the meeting feeling depleted and numb.

The rest of that day is such a blur. Now that Em was holding her own, some of the visitors left to go to the Caledonia girls basketball game. Nothing much was going on with Em. Her temperature was normal, though she was still on the dialysis machine. The ice had been removed, if I remember correctly, and her room wasn’t quite so frigid. At some point I went down with a friend to the cafeteria. I said to her, “when Em said she wanted to go home, what if she really meant that she wanted to go Home, you know Home as in Heaven”? She said for me not to go there and that Em would beat this. I agreed, believed her and said “of course she would beat this”. I went back up to be with Em and just waited. Later that afternoon, they wanted to do another MRI/brain scan to see if the last spike in temperature had given her brain damage. They were concerned because her heart was beating so fast but said it will do that in order to fight. They told us that the heart was beating like that of a marathon runner and that it had been for hours. They remarked at what great shape she was in and how incredibly strong she was. We left the room because they were beginning to unhook all the cords in order to take her down stairs and said we could follow them when they went by the waiting room. We were only there a few minutes when a nurse asked us to go to a different room. Jeff and I went and waited and the head nurse came in. She was calm and reassuring but said that Em’s heart had stopped and that they were beginning to revive her, and they needed us to go down to the room with her. Then she calmly said, “are you okay to do this?”. We weren’t freaked out at all. We had been through one trial after another and this was just another set back right? I don’t recall what Jeff said but I remember saying “Sure, we are talking about Em. She’s the strongest person I know,” and we walked down to her room.

She was in the pediatric wing and her room was painted with Aladdin. When we got there, I don’t think shock settled in until I saw what was happening. The room was packed, and I mean packed, with personnel. The monitor above was a flat line and one doctor was on a stool doing compressions on her chest. (There is more detail that I won’t share as it is really quite disturbing and something no parent should endure, but then again, this whole nightmare should never be a part of a parents reality.) I was in the doorway, Jeff was in a little further. At one point a doctor said, “this isn’t working, we’ll have to use the paddles.” Someone asked if we were okay with this. We said “absolutely, do whatever.” At this point my knees began to give out and I felt like I was watching myself from a distance. I started screaming “C’mon Em…C’mon Em….don’t go!!” They used the paddles one time and Jeff came behind me to lift me off the floor. He was holding me from behind saying “we have to let her go”…and I was screaming “we can’t!!”. They then asked if we wanted them to try again with the paddles. I was screaming to Jeff “what are we gonna do…what are we gonna do” and he said “we have to let her go”. I remember Jeff telling them to “stop, just stop…no more!” I wept a cry that would scare even myself as it erupted from my body. I kept hearing it, but thinking it wasn’t of me. I would put my head on Jeff’s chest as he tried to keep me from continually collapsing and sob, “oh, my God hun, what are we going to do…what do we do?” followed by, “No, please God No…don’t let it be…No God , please God No”, as I begged and pleaded with God. As I shook and trembled, I recall looking over to get another glimpse of Em and the nightmare that was now becoming our reality. As I did so, a strange feeling came over me and I remember thinking that I had to be strong because Em was watching. I remember looking up above the closet door and pulling myself to my feet to show her I was okay, as if her spirit was leaving the body. I recall them saying “time of death 5:32”. And so it was. Our Lou left for Heaven. I remember thinking that it really wasn’t happening, and that if it was, I was the next to die. It’s a pain and out of body experience that you can’t explain. It also cemented in me the fact that even though I am a faithful follower of Christ, that He has to be real! This is where the rubber meets the road so to speak. How am I even alive if He isn’t for real? The human spirit can not endure such pain without the hand of the Almighty holding you and putting a protection around your broken heart. The rest is even more blurry. The personnel attending to Em asked us to step out of the room and we could be with her again in a minute. They asked us about information that was needed, like which funeral home to call. They asked if we were interested in an autopsy and we declined. We asked about organ donation such as Em’s eyes, which we considered, but they said with such a high fever they couldn’t harvest them. Even though so much was going on we felt so incredibly cared for and they showed such compassion for us. They too were in shock and had all come to care deeply for our Em. We were told later that our funeral director had come immediately so they never had to take Em to the morgue. We were so grateful for this. I know I’m probably missing a ton of information but lots just isn’t in my memory anymore (which is probably a good thing). They listed the cause of death as being heart failure on the death certificate, but her nurse actually called it multi organ failure. The other organs that were failing were not the ultimate cause of death, but when the heart failed, that is when the marathon that Em was running was now complete. It was due to the infection that spread quickly over her body…one that no one could identify and couldn’t control and remains an unknown to us, but is fully known by our all-knowing God.

We then somehow, supernaturally, proceeded down to the waiting room. I was numb and didn’t hardly speak. Jeff told someone, I don’t remember who, to go and get the kids out of the cafeteria, and round up the people who were stationed in the chapel. He asked someone to go and get my mom and dad from the Renucci room and to go and get the people that had walked down to Burger King. He had a strength and clear mind only given by the Father. I would have loud outbursts of waling that escaped me as I laid on Jeff’s knees waiting for everyone to return. Then there were moments of trying to clear my head and trying to wake up from this nightmare. Then moments of deep pain and anguish would return until everyone arrived. It was silent and no one knew what had happened. No one asked what was going on. We all just waited for everyone to get back. While in the waiting room, everyone thought that Em maybe just had another decline or that there was news about the outcome of the MRI. My mom, however, said that she thought maybe it was the worst because she could see it in my eyes and hear it in my cry.

Jeff then, somehow, someway, told everyone that “Em told us after church that she didn’t know what her purpose in life was but she was anxious to find out. At 5:32 today, Em found out what her purpose was”…after that I don’t remember what else he said. I just remember the room erupting in screams and sobs. People were collapsing on the floor and you just couldn’t get the pain out of your body to escape fast enough. I don’t even remember who all was there or who hugged who. It didn’t matter, we were all in such pain. Sarah once said that the sights and sounds of that moment must be what hell is like. I couldn’t agree more.

At some point, we were told that we could come down and see Em. I remember walking into the room, it was dimly lit and her bed was raised to sit her up slightly. They had soft music on, a couple of stuffed animals with her. They had taken off her halo and let her hair down. She looked so peaceful and normal. There were no more tubes, no more bolts in her head, no monitors connected….just sweet Em. I crawled into bed with her and kissed her face. I held her hand and felt her warmth. It was beautiful….as raw and as vulnerable as one can feel. I was finally able to hold her again. I was with my child and she was free, free of the pain that she so strongly tried to overcome. I couldn’t think beyond the moment. I couldn’t comprehend what I was doing, or where I was or what was soon to follow. It was just pure love and adoration for my precious Em.

We allowed family to come in and see her if they wanted to. It was a much better memory than what many had seen Em like before. A couple of friends asked if they could come in too. Sar said yes, and I remember this guy holding her hand and gently touching her leg. There was a sweetness about what we witnessed. I spoke boldly to a few family members about making sure they knew Christ. I said that if they ever wanted to see Em again they better know Christ and that if God Himself had asked Em to come to Him so that others would know Christ, that I was sure Em did so. I don’t know where it all came from. I’m not that bold when it comes to evangelism. It’s crazy to think about yet I have no regrets and have since had the blessing of knowing that others did come to Christ through Em’s death. That’s the greatest testimony to Em’s life; that she knew Him, loved Him and is with Him now.

The days, weeks, months and years have been no cake walk. Many days we could not even crawl, let alone walk. We have dealt with more than you can imagine and I hope you never do. The experience is an on-going reliance on Christ, and we can appreciate and sympathize with others the sufferings of this life in such depth and I believe we experience a deeper joy and appreciation of life’s great gifts and the blessings we enjoy in the midst of it all. This life is to be lived to the fullest…even beyond the Ugly. The hard part is attaining it while in pain. I think this is the hardest to overcome….to get back to a place where you REALLY live life beyond the pain. It is something I hope to attain someday. I think Em would want that. The richness of family and friends and Em’s mEMory make the suffering some how do-able though many days I would disagree. I think we feel and care deeper than we would have had we not been through what we go through. There is a sensitivity about pain and the trials that people walk through. It’s a continual battle, one worth the fight. It brings us to our knees in praise and humbles our hearts to know just how blessed we’ve been and that even in the midst of pain, we experience God’s mercies and blessings even now. It’s been Good, Bad and really Ugly, but the truth of the matter is that God is a Good God. He loves us enough to prepare a place for us where there will be no more pain and no more suffering. And in between we somehow live life, then try to live life again after the “ugly” and learn about life while walking through it, and we await, ever so expectantly for our turn and the joy that awaits us.

A fellow grieving parent that I know who also lost his teenage daughter in a car accident, Dave Branon who authored Beyond the Valley, wrote this in his book:

“Those of us who lost teenagers we remember with fondness how they lived their lives, full of excitement and with boundless energy. Emily and Melissa were always on the run-always going from one sports event to the next school event to the next church activity-barely stopping at home to let her car cool down while they scheduled their next adventure. Who knew that in their rush they were running for Heaven? Who knew that in their hurry to live life with vigor, they were actually cramming as much in as possible because sixteen years isn’t enough time to do everything a teen wants to accomplish? Fortunately, Emily and Melissa were running towards Heaven. Each had a solid faith in Jesus Christ, meaning that when their lives ended too prematurely for us, they were ready to step on shore and see Jesus welcoming them face to face. They had settled the sin problem by trusting Jesus, and their last breath on earth was followed by their first breath in Heaven.”

I say Amen to that!

I pray that this message gives you further insight to the suffering and somehow enables you to see beyond ourselves and our circumstances. I encourage you to fight the good fight and look towards Heaven that is promised to be ours one day. And may any “Ugly” that enters your life be followed by the “Good”ness of Jesus.

For those of us who have lost someone near and dear to our hearts, it seems we like to know the depth of their story. We want to know how they endured and what the pain was like. However, it is my experience also that MOST of the people don’t really want to know the in’s and out’s of grief and it’s not-so-pleasant details. This is for those inquiring minds that want the rest of the story.

Many people ask how you do it…how you live through it. That is a loaded question and for each of us it is different and there are so many different circumstances. I can only share with you our own experience from my perspective, so I’ll start from the beginning. The night that Em went to be with Jesus, Jeff and I, Sar and Adam spent the night at the Renucci house. We just couldn’t think of making our way home just yet. I don’t remember how everyone dispersed or when…it’s all too foggy. I just remember going to that room, curling up in the fetal position with a lock of Em’s hair and sobbing. Jeff and I on one bed, Sar and Adam on the other and we talked until we fell asleep somehow, all crying periodically as the realization kept waving over each of us. I remember waking up, not even under the blankets and still in my clothes. Nothing mattered, we were in survival mode…all of us. The next day we headed for home and I remember the song by Jeremy Camp coming on immediately entitled “I Still Believe” and shortly after that the song “Cry Out to Jesus” by Third Day came on. God’s spirit and these songs spoke into our lives and our shattered faith. Somehow we felt God with us. The next few days, like everyone says, is the easier part. You are so busy with preparations and support that it’s somewhat do-able. Being asked what you would like your daughter buried in brings the reality all back crashing in. What do you mean, I have to bring clothes and undergarments to the funeral home….I mean seriously. It’s too much to ask! And then the decisions of what you want for the funeral itself, pall bearers, ….songs, video, Really! And you need to think seriously about what do you want to go with her?” “You mean like in the casket?” This decision was not as difficult as most due to the shock that had set in at the moment. We really weren’t able to grasp the finality of it all and simply went through the motions. We tore her blanket (the one she had had since she was a baby and still slept with) in half. Half went with her and half is in bed with Jeff and I every night between our pillows. Adam put in his Aviator sunglasses that she always wore to the football games, Sar put in a picture of the 2 of them, Jeff and I put in a big family picture, some of her favorite medals from volleyball, we covered her with her Grandpa Terry’s sweatshirt, Jessie Buche put in a George Washington Teddy Bear (Em loved Jessie) and we put in half of the locket that Kellie Rowland gave us. We have the other half. Heather Mitchell wanted Emily to be buried with her NCAA Final Four ring that she was awarded after competing in the championship while playing volleyball at MSU. Heather wanted to do this because of Em’s passion for the game and because she would never get her own opportunity to play or watch such a competition. (More on this story can be found on this site under the “volleyball section”). So that ring was placed on Em’s finger. This was a huge, generous gesture that meant the world to our family because of what it would have meant to Em. There may be others that tucked something in, I’m not really sure. Then soon to follow are the dealings of insurance, death certificate filings, probate court and grave stone decisions are another cruel reality. We couldn’t tackle the grave stone decisions for several months. You are in and out of the deep grief like a merry-go-round. You are okay (relatively speaking) one minute while flowers and sticky buns are being delivered, and the next you are in a pile thinking “how can this be?” You try to do laundry and there’s a piece of clothing of your beloved. And how do you handle their room, their shoes, their toothbrush that won’t ever be used again, hair ties that have their now precious hair stuck in them? The list goes on and on. Empty seat at the table, their handmade Christmas ornaments, volleyball uniforms, ankle braces, jewelry? You that have lost someone know the depth of that pain. Those of you who haven’t lost someone take the preciousness of your loved ones belonging for granted. So now let me skip ahead some because even later is when it’s unbearable. You can’t function…literally. You can’t even shower, let alone have the strength to wash your hair. Normal daily tasks like doing laundry or washing the dishes are out of the question. Each breath is a battle. And thinking of getting groceries…who eats and who can fathom of the normalcy of making a meal. And if you do somehow eat a few bites it’s followed by a trip to the bathroom to get rid of it. Your body is just in too much physical pain to have to digest something. What really did me in was the constant mail we received about recruitment opportunities for Em. We would occasionally get a phone call saying “Hello, is Emily there?” I’d surprisingly say “No, I’m sorry she’s not. Who is this?”. They would reply “well, do you know when she might be back, this is coach so and so from such and such college.” I would then somehow find the strength to tell them and a few days later we would receive a sympathy note signed by the team that was trying to recruit her. Another issue that about did us in was the insurance fiasco between what the Durham’s coverage was and what we had for our insurance. The insurance companies had to fight it out and the policy holders were left to dangle. We somehow could not obtain the police report in order to get the ball rolling. I finally had to go to Lansing to obtain it myself through the “Freedom of Information Act.” We were both out of work, we still had bills to be pay, tuition for Sarah and no real means of financial support other than what the generosity of people provided (and any savings we had was used up on funeral expenses). Jeff would go back to work 3 months later and we would be okay, but we still couldn’t believe that we were going through this. Wasn’t our grief enough to contend with? Why did we have to worry about finances too? We felt as though we were being forsaken and that the people who could help were simply dragging their feet because of there own selfishness. We were the ones that lost our daughter. Doesn’t that trump any other situation? Obviously not. It took until January 2007 for it all to be finalized. Talk about adding salt to a open and oozing wound. Everything was a battle, an absolute battle, but God still took care of us during this time and sent caring people to minister to us and care for our needs. Again, He proved to be faithful.

When it came to grief, Jeff and I handled it differently though we talked about our grief a lot and Em was in our daily conversations. We each gave the other the room to do whatever it was to survive. For him it was keeping busy and being around Em’s friends and keeping that part of her alive. For me it was too painful and I couldn’t go anywhere because of the reminders of what we had lost. I didn’t even shop for months. Grocery stores and the malls were forbidden because of the pain I would experience there. Between seeing the cereal that Em liked and the conditioner I use to buy for all that hair, or seeing American Eagle or Abercrombie stores….it was too much to handle. I tried a few times and would end up calling Jeff or Sar crying from the parking lot of the grocery store saying that I couldn’t find the car in the parking lot or I had lost my checkbook. I was in too far over my head. We survived by having people do the shopping for us, but even that was hard. It was like, “do you need bread and milk?” Answered by “yeah, I guess so.” Then we would be asked “Do you need anything else, like trash bags or peanut butter?” Our reply was “maybe, I don’t know”. The other stuff was just too normal for our daily living now.

As I mentioned before, Jeff took off 3 months of work and I took a leave of absence, never to return. A daily schedule did not allow for random breakdowns in my day that occurred for more than 3 years. I now finally feel like I can get up and do daily stuff without thinking about the act itself. I use to awake with dread and each task was to be thought of with a challenge. I do have to say that my thoughts every day still begin and end with Em, Sar, Adam and Rydik. That part doesn’t change, the mom thing still continues.

I think the thing that crippled me the most was the empty nest. Sar would go back to college a few weeks after the funeral….still can’t believe she did that. We were all at such a loss that her going back to school just kinda happened. Nobody knew what to do with this new “life”. She would return home on weekends only to be reminded of what wasn’t there and the realization that her parents had lost it and she felt so abandoned. There was never much for food in the fridge so we might try to go out to a restaurant. I remember the first time we did it was a disaster. She was in the backseat, all by herself. It use to be her and Em. And then there were only 3 of us at the table in the restaurant. After this, we made some adjustments and I would ride in the back so that it wasn’t a “how it use to be moment” and either Jeff or I would sit by Sar at the restaurant so it was different too.

The first few months, when Jeff and I were having a stronger day, we would clean for hours. We sorted, cleaned the attic, organized, etc. I think it made us feel like at least we could control our household. Everything else in life was totally out of control. We cleaned Em’s room as if she were home and went through all of her pockets, backpack and gym bag to find treasures of her like her chapstick, gum wrappers or sucker sticks to feel closer to her. Her car became my greatest “feel good” spot. I would settle into her seat and picture her singing and bouncing to Rascal Flatts. I loved it when I would find long strands of that curly hair still on the seats and I’d leave them just where I had found them. It took us 4 years before we turned her waterbed heater off. It still doesn’t set with me well. In those early years I would find myself needing an Em fix and go down and crawl into her bed and just let it all out. I would picture Em saying to me “Now mom, pull yourself together. You can do this”, so I’d get up and hug her clothes hanging there, as if it were her, and buck up and move on….for Em’s sake. I allowed myself to fall apart and grieve. The weeping would be so bad that it would actually make my teeth chatter like being in the shivering cold. It’s one of the weird things that happened as the pain poured out of my body. But then I would regain some kind of composer so to carry on.

We still have a lot of Em’s things around the house and her bedroom remains the same. For example, Em’s sunglasses are still on the bathroom shelf and her crème rinse still in the shower. Her volleyball uniform is still hanging in the laundry room and, for the most part, her car still in the driveway and phone still working and charging on the kitchen counter. I believe there will always be Em “sightings” in our home as long as we live.

Jeff would keep busy helping with the basketball team and he would enjoy seeing Em’s classmates and coaching the boys like Big E, Buck, Nic, Dan, Kyle Rowland, Vern and Gabe along with others. Some days I would gear myself up and tell myself, “Em would want you to go to the game”, and so I’d go only to see her friends in the wacky woody section without her. Most times I couldn’t make it through and I’d end up at the cemetery sitting with her. There were a lot of cold, winter nights spent there. Same was true with volleyball season. I did however LOVE that the girls remEMbered her with their warm up shirts and had a spot saved for her. I just would think of how much that would mean to Em if she had the opportunity to watch from Heaven. Those are the mind games that I played that got me out of the house and back into our loving, supportive community. I felt I owed everyone so much, and much of the time I felt like the saying “to whom much is given, much is required” and so I tried to give back and be an example of strength. A lot of the time I failed miserably but knew I had given it my best shot and I never tried to be fake about my struggle. I loved that people asked about our family, and I was open and humble about that struggle. I felt it was best to be real. I had always felt so blessed by having such incredible girls…and they had given us so much…joy, happiness, pride, you name it; we were blessed.

The thing that is most difficult for me is the realization of how much Sarah struggled. I know I did what I could, be it wasn’t enough. It’s like seeing someone drowning, and you want to help. They mean the world to you, but you can’t get the shackles off your feet and the chains off your hands to go into the water and save them. I would talk with her as she came home lonely from the clubs where friends would take her “because she seemed sad”. They would then go back home, late at night and Sar would be there in her dorm room to grieve alone. Later I would drive to her apartment and make a meal or clean her apartment as she went back to college and to work. It was such a load for her to bear. She not only lost her best friend and the one dearest to her heart but also watched her mom and dad go down in flames. We felt the same about her. It was devastating to watch but we were all so crippled that we couldn’t help each other in any way that would really make a difference. The only thing that could have helped was to have Em back in our lives, whole and healthy, and that just wasn’t going to happen. Adam did the best he could, but he wasn’t Em. Nobody was Em. Nobody could ever be Em to Sar. They were our 2 peas in a pod, totally different from each other but so close and inseparably in any way that mattered. Sarah finally had enough and went through a severe depression that would find her being evaluated at Forest View Hospital. After that she would move home and take a term off from school. Home wasn’t the perfect place anymore but at least we were all together, with the exception of one, and we were there to walk out the pain in those early months when we were sure we couldn’t survive it. Somehow, it’s 5 years later and we’ve made some progress. Sarah for sure has made the most improvement. She has persevered and endured so much. She has risen and excelled in every area of her life and we couldn’t be prouder. It’s really quite unbelievable and remarkable from where she started to where she is now. I guess this whole section should be in the “Good” segment of the Homecoming message!!

I think the worst of it all was the summer of 2006 and then again in 2007 when Em’s friends were graduating. In 2006 we were planning for her volleyball tournament and golf outing. The support was incredible and so was the pain. The numbness was now wearing off and reality was setting in…even after months. One of my worst nights was right around the time of the mEMorial weekend. Sar was in a bad way and I had about given up. I found myself in the middle of the night driving to the cemetery in the pouring rain. I just NEEDED to be with Em. I got there about 2 a.m. and laid down in the mud next to her grave. I was cold on the outside and colder on the inside. I went and got a sweatshirt that she had worn and put it on. I then experienced God in a very real way. I felt a warmth come over me, a calmness settled in and the loneliness left me. I fell asleep there in the rain for awhile before waking up and feeling “okay, let’s get up and try to live again”. The next year about the time of prom and graduation, that feeling came in with a vengeance again. Only this time I was more in tune with what I could and couldn’t do. I tried to go to Em’s friends open houses and actually made it to a handful, but gave myself the room to not endure the pain that I would find there. I always felt bad about it and I know a lot of her FarOut teammates had dedicated sections on the picture boards that I missed. I was getting to a place where I knew my limits. Before that, I just crashed and burned a lot.

I gave up talking to God for a long time but never lost my faith. I just allowed others to pray on my behalf and for my unspeaking voice to be understood by God regardless of me. I believed He knew me intimately and figured I’d just be. He would have to carry me and that He did.

Many ask me about our feeling about Kayla or the Durham family, and many don’t ask but want to know. We have never blamed Kayla or held bad feelings against her. We knew that being bitter would destroy us even further. We have, however, felt disrespected and our grief ignored at times but the reality of it is that they too are suffering. We haven’t spoken to them or had any correspondence from them in the past 5 years with the exception of the week after the funeral with insurance details that needed to be discussed and a brief conversation during the insurance dealings. There have been times when we’ve both been misunderstood and where Satan has probably been successful in getting a foothold in. There has been a lot of hurt, a lot of wrong presumptions, but it is what it is and it’s most unfortunate. It just had come to the point where we pulled away because the grief was too much to bear. I, personally, didn’t feel strong enough to counsel with Kayla though it may have been what was needed. Again, I had come to know my limits and, sadly, I didn’t have enough left in me to help myself or my family, let alone someone else. It’s very unfortunate because I’m sure Kayla and the family have walked a very broken road, much different from ours, but broken all the same. The Durham family hasn’t reached out or tried to correspond with us over the years either. Too much pain in both families I guess. Kayla in the early months tried to contact us, but because of my deep despair, my emotional state couldn’t take it at the time. When people talk about “healing”, you often hear them say that time heals all wounds…..it definitely is not true! Time heals nothing! Only the grace and love of Jesus can help. I don’t know if we will ever completely heal, only Heaven can do that, but I believe in some kind of restoration (I’m talking emotionally not relationally). I think that the suffering we’ve endured can only be healed in Heaven, because that is where Em is, but I strongly believe that any relationship can be restored. I hope all involved find some kind a peace in God’s time…and for all of us who knew and loved Em to find a peace that passes understanding.

So here is just a glimpse of the “Ugly” that can come and make it’s home in our lives. All of us on this earth experience our own struggles and most won’t ever escape “Ugly” in our time on earth completely. It’s all a part of the living we do here and why the promises of God sound better and better every day. I pray that you hold fast to the one that will carry you through this life and give you a sense of His peace along the way. He promises to make us whole and complete, never lacking anything in Heaven and perfection we will experience. Better yet our loved ones are there! So here’s to hoping to see all of you there where there is no more “Ugly”!

The Good
As I begin to pen the words for this last segment of the Homecoming message, I am rEMinded that it is October 15. Five years ago we placed our precious Em in her peaceful place at the Woodland Cemetery. It was a day much like today. Bright and sunny with the beauty of fall around us. And so we were, living a nightmare of burying the baby of our family and acknowledging she would be the first of our little family of four to live in Heaven. How was it that the last would be the first? And as I contemplate how to start this, I come up with the question of how can there really be any “Good” that can come out of such pain and suffering? Many who really experience deep heartache would find it hard pressed to say so. I, however, still belief in His Goodness. Not because of what we lost, but what we’ve been given and the goodness still in our midst if we just choose to see it. It does take some forethought and some determination. When you are in that dark place, it would be easy to allow the situation, the reality of it all, to take root. But if we can battle back, somehow try to see the sun through the days that seem so dark, it is possible. Much of it I believe has everything to do with what you do with your pain. Do you let it consume you or do you go to the front lines and do war? It’s the power of the human spirit that each of us can choose to unleash to some degree. No, there is nothing easy about it, but any fight worthwhile is worth the effort. By allowing God back into the places that the enemy has tried to destroy, He can be the wind at our backs that plunges us back into really living life and somehow actually enjoying it again. This is our story.

We all have a say so in how our story ends. How we write the chapters and how we write the legacy that we will all leave. No one gets out of here alive. Every person dies, all the more reason to live and make an impact. And I’ve always been okay with that reality. Death has never scared me, even before we lost Em to it. In fact, the living I’ve always thought was the hard part. Trying to learn all there is to learn and be a warrior for the cause of Christ was always hard to balance. To follow Christ and His precepts seems to be where I have tried to put my priorities though the “world” would tell me different. My first priority was always my family. Gods word has much to say to women about this. The saying “There is no higher calling in this life than to raise the children God has trusted to our care” is where my heart always was. But with that comes being a good wife so your children can feel love and security, a good homemaker where you make your house a safe nest for your family to land when the winds of life blow cold and hard, and of course being involved in their lives, friendships and influences that can build up or destroy. Then there’s the privilege and instruction that needs to be in place for their ultimate well-being. They need to have an understanding and knowledge of God in their lives, and hopefully an acceptance of the gift of eternal life which Jesus provides. I once heard that the greatest gift we can ever get is to see our loved ones on the other side. That gift is an assured and promised reality for us! But this also takes time, energy and commitment. It’s a lot for God to ask of us, but this is where my first sense of His goodness comes from in our lives as we live with no regrets. I know I speak for Jeff too when I say that for us there have been no regrets in how much we poured into our kids. Whether it was our involvement in church and taking them and being with them at youth events and rallies, teaching Sunday School classes, coaching softball or never missing an activity whether it was tennis, volleyball or dance. This isn’t to say that we did everything perfectly, but we can honestly say we put it all out there for our kids. There was nothing, NOTHING, we wouldn’t do for them and nothing we wouldn’t give up for them, whether it be a job that demanded too much of us, or a job that we didn’t care for but endured because of the schedule it provided. We can’t say that we wished we would have done anything differently. We can’t say that we didn’t invest in our kids or their eternal future. We all have things that we stumble with or mistakes we’ve made, but when it comes to what really matters, we can say that we’ve experienced goodness from living life with them and enjoying so much time together. Knowing that you thoroughly enjoyed who they are and what that were and that you appreciated the time together and always had their best interest in your heart, is a peace and goodness that will forever remain.

We all have choices to make. I choose to see God’s goodness and look for it any chance I can. It has been the thing that has kept me from the pit that would have otherwise captured my depressed soul. We must live with hope! Hope that things will one day get better. If today’s a bad day, maybe tomorrow will be better. If tomorrow comes and it’s still painful, then what about the next day? We all know people who can suck the life out of you by their negative thinking and complaining attitude. The weather is to hot, the next day it’s too windy, one day we need rain, the next it rained too much. This life is too tough to endure in it’s own without allowing negative or ungrateful hearts to come and keep us in a place of being bitter and resentful. We have to fight the “poor me” syndrome otherwise we always wallow in sadness, which would be easy to do. Part of the goodness that we have experienced has been by surrounding ourselves with people who haven’t wavered in their support and commitment to us. They know the long haul that it has been for us, yet they stay close and connected. You treasure these friendships because they have withstood the test of time. Sometimes God calls people to go into the trenches with us and stay there for however long it takes and even if it means a lifetime. Yes, we’ve experienced a few relationships that have went AWOL or have left us feeling abandoned. Even church friends, clergy and others we thought would never leave us have. I’d like to chalk it up to “blessed ignorance” and I’d like to think that I understand and have compassion for them, but honestly, I’m not that gracious and remain hurt and offended. What I really want to do is scream “Who does that“? I’d even go as far as to tell about a note we received from a parent that said the jealousy that she felt as a parent when Em received some awards for volleyball as a sophomore, was later understood because of “God giving Em those awards because He knew he was going to take her”. How about being happy for her and acknowledging Em for her accomplishments? I share in hopes that you who are reading this will never put sports above friendships. I’d like to think I’m the bigger person and that I’m pretty forgiving, but honestly in these situations where it hurts my family, I’m not that gracious. It’s the momma bear thing I guess. Because of such experiences, we treasure those friendships that have remained steadfast and true and it’s a joy and gratefulness deep in our hearts for the way that God has provided for us in this way. We have many friends that have wanted nothing from us other than to be there in our time of need. I would be remiss if I didn’t mention our FarOut friends in this category. Our involvement together with FarOut only expanded from March 2005 until July 2005 as far as Em was concerned but have been there throughout. We have also seen God’s goodness as He continued to provide lasting, meaningful friendships through Jeff’s involvement with coaching volleyball for Lakewood and FarOut. When Sar lost her friend Keisha, I called one of our FarOut parents to be in prayer for Sarah and their family. I knew I could count on them. They continue to offer support, come every year to Em’s mEMorial events (one even drove in on motorcycle from Wisconsin), came as we celebrated Sar and Adam’s wedding, and send flowers or condolences every October 11. We are even getting together this Sunday for a bit of a reunion. Sarah will often say, “What would we have done without our FarOut friends?” I really don’t know. I don’t even want to think about it. God put those friendships in place for a few months only to last a lifetime. They’ve see the road we’ve traveled up close and personal, even when it was really ugly. Life would be much more lonely without them. Several of us are planning a cruise together in our future. The old crew of Lakewood Volleyball has also been a constant as the Rowland’s, Buche’s, Deardorff’s, Hanson’s, Frost’s, Goodemoot’s, Chase’s, Stetosky’s and Hynes’ have never left our sides as well as our friends Dale and Paula Jones. It’s quite an undertaking to stay and watch as we go though the pain, but while that have chosen to stay, we’ve experienced true friendship and find our lives richer because of them.

There were many other ways that we’ve experienced God’s goodness and His provision for us, especially in those early years when we would have went under if God hadn’t shown up and given us glimpses that He was in it and with us. It’s odd to think that I can recall the days of the visitation and funeral and actually have a sense of goodness. I guess God is capable of doing that in our lives. We found ourselves overwhelmed with the outpouring of support and the sheer numbers of people that came. I will never forget making that long walk from the high school library to the gym. I saw Mike O’Mara making eye contact like “you won’t believe what’s inside those doors”. Between all those flowers, Em’s autographed casket by hundreds as she lay peacefully on the court that was her home away from home, the thousand and more people in attendance, and the reality of it all, I felt weak at the knees and yet grateful and awestruck that her life affected so many. You’d think that in the midst of such grief I would be totally in shock, but miraculously I can remember so much. I can remember the song that was played as we walked in. “Word of God Speak, would you fall down like rain, washing my eyes to see, your Majesty, to be still and know, you’re in this place, please let me stay and rest in your holiness, Word of God speak”. It wasn’t just music. It was soothing balm to my broken heart. At the visitation there was a constant stream of visitors, a line like I could have never imagined yet God provided strength for us and we had some of our FarOut friends quietly praying in the back pews for us and staying with us from beginning to end. Jeff Hynes kept us apprised of the line and kept tissues and water coming. Small details but intimate care none-the-less. We had volleyball officials coming and sending flowers, universities represented with flowers, Spectrum nurses and doctors, and even strangers that came from hours away because they heard about our loss and “had to come”. We even had a TV news crew wanting to speak to us which Jeff finally gave them a brief interview while we went after the visitation to view all the homecoming floats that had paid tribute to Em. We were playing Williamston that night and someone from there administration gave $100 check to be put towards Em’s scholarship fund that had hardly been discussed yet. We definitely felt like we were a part of something so much bigger than ourselves. Even early on we felt like God was in the business of doing something big with Em’s life and the legacy that she would leave. We, her family, unfortunately were going to have to carry on and somehow be good stewards of this pain that was beginning to feel like a call on our life. It’s taken me 5 years to feel this way, but again, I can only be obedient to what I feel God has called for “me” to do and so this is partly why I share with you. It was nothing of ourselves. It was just a deep sense that God was doing something even though we would have chosen to fight Him on this every step of the way. We certainly didn’t sign up for this but guess what? We didn’t choose it but we can choose how we respond to our situation and to God. It’s something that hasn’t come easy….No, no, far from it. I guess I’m getting to a place of further understanding on what my life will be about and coming to surrender that to Him. When things get really rough, I have to play those mind games that I’ve talked about that seem to help me through like if “God thought enough of us to entrust such amazing children as Sar and Em to our care, what if He chose us to bear the pain of Em’s death and legacy too for a higher purpose than we can not see?” It makes my head spin!

Many do not know this about our family, but because we are a family that has such things as “Cousins Christmas” or week long vacations together at Lake Michigan every year, I’d like to share how one way our family takes care of each other. It’s a sweetness like no other family and a respect for the closeness and love we have for each other. I’m speaking of the Townsend family which all began with Frank and Wilma Townsend, Jeff’s maternal grandparents. There was a time before 1998 when there had been no death, only lots of new life born into the family. Since then, 5 deaths, 4 of which were too soon and unexpected (more of this can be read by viewing Christmas message 2009 in the archives section.) Since that time, the cousins, all the grandkids and their families take part in burying our own. The first time we did it, we just went along with the idea, but during the process I realized that is was a time of respect and deep love for our own. It was a reminder of the depth of our love for each other. When Grandpa Townsend (the patriarch of the family) passed away, all of his grandchildren and their families chose to stay behind to take part in a private family burial as opposed to the sextons of the cemetery that usually complete the burial. Grandma Townsend and their daughters and spouses, along with the others that attended the funeral would go back to the church for fellowship and a luncheon. We lowered the casket into the vault and replaced the lid that says the name on it. We covered it with a University of Michigan flag, put his tool belt in, a family picture, a book about Habitat for Humanity which Grandpa very much supported and believed in and anything else that anyone chose to put in. We all prayed and cried together then the boys began to shovel and replaced the sod and flowers with such care that you’d never know it was a new grave. The same was true for Em. Even though Jeff, I, Sar and Adam came back for the luncheon, we knew that our sweet Em was even then being gently cared for and loved. The other remaining grandchildren and great grandchildren of Frank and Wilma were even then caring for our own. I never asked about what was done and what all they did. I only know that they painted a volleyball on the vault cover and put the FarOut teammates pink roses that each teammate placed on the casket at the cemetery in with the burial. Maybe I’ll ask someday. For me it’s a goodness that remains close to my heart and a reverence for the uniqueness and closeness of an incredible family that we are a part of. The Woodland Cemetery is about 8 miles from our home. There was never really a debate on where we would choose our family sites even though the Sunfield Cemetery is about a half mile from our home. It is the most beautiful, peaceful place around and would become almost a second home to me in the days, weeks, months and years to follow. Though sadness is a constant there, it is also a place that houses the remains of our Em and so it is a great place for this mom to be. Anywhere, in any form, as long as I am near to her in any capacity seems to work for me. I realize that her earthly shell is there at this peaceful place, and that the sweet spirit she wowed us with is still very alive and vibrant as she walks along the crystal seas and the literal streets of gold in a new body that dances and plays the best beach volleyball of her life in what will be her forever body that won’t fail. You would think that much of that day would only bring back the finality of what we were experiencing, but as it is with God, He can and does amazing things in the midst of such despair.

One very tangible thing that the Lord did for me specifically was to bring a person into my life for “such a time as this”. Our family for years has done art shows and we even did one that first month after Em went to be with Jesus. I know now that I was not in my right mind. How I did a show is beyond me, but not beyond God. I had been preparing for it, it was paid for, and so I went, like 3 weeks after. Still can’t believe it! But anyway, I found myself in Saline, MI (down by Ann Arbor). Our Aunt Barb was at the same show yet in a different building. She had told me about a woman she met years ago in her travels that had lost a daughter. She couldn’t recall her name but had been praying that somehow the Lord would allow us to meet at some point. Many of you believers know where this might be going. Yep, Joannie showed up at Barbara’s booth and told her she didn’t know why she was there, but woke up that morning heavy hearted and decided to drive to Saline and go to an art show there, though she didn’t know why “there”. After seeing Barb, who she hadn’t seen in years, Barb told her that she had been praying for her and the reason she was at that show was because someone needed her who was in the next building…me. She came, briefly introduced herself and told me a little bit about her story and said that now she understood why God sent her to Saline. A situation “a little out there” some would say, but you just couldn’t deny God’s provision. We met from time to time, she directed me to books that helped and which ones to stay clear from. She would check on me and I remember she asked once “Are you on speaking terms with God yet?” I replied with a confident, “Nope” and she said, “Don’t worry or feel guilty. God can take it. You’ll come back when you are ready. I have every confidence of that”. Well, not me. I wasn’t sure where that relationship was gonna go if anywhere. There was too much confusion and “forsakenness” I felt. My deep faith had went from a place where I prayed continually for my kids to a “I don’t get You at all!! There has to be more, there has to be!” And that was the extent of that. Most times it wasn’t even a expressed prayer. If I did express myself, it was a pathetic “please help!” I have actual written prayers for safety and blessings for the girls just weeks before the accident, “For angels to be around and about their vehicles for protection,” but now what? Joannie got me. She and I went to a conference about a year into the grief. There was a worship time and I just kinda was there. I remember closing my eyes and crying. No praise would come out, how could it? Something happened that day. No big return to prayer and reading the Bible. I was still in a place of “Lord, you just gotta help us. You promised!” I can still feel it today. Jesus spoke into my heart and I almost believed it was audible. He said to me in very layman’s terms, just like Jesus would, “You gotta hang with me on this one!” It healed something in me. I simply started to move from “whatever Lord” to “okay, I’m trusting you with this”. The prayers increased slowly to a few thoughts like, “I’ll hang with you on this one if I must. Will you PLEASE be with Sar and tell Em that we love and miss her please”. And that was the extent of my prayers. Broken into bits was all I could muster.

Another remarkable thing that God did was to give me a dream. One that was unlike the nightmares that the enemy sends or the ones the mind seems to create in it’s inability to process things that are too complicated. This dream was such that when I woke, I just knew it was a dream.. one that would come true. I just knew that when I went downstairs that Em really had left me a voicemail. One right from Heaven. Ok, it wasn’t really on my voicemail but I really checked, just in case God chose to bless us with it literally. The dream seemed too real. It was so different. Most nights I would be bombarded with the nasty ones that my body would conjure up to try and make sense of the reality. These still happen from time to time, just another aspect of the post-traumatic disorder and/or the enemy trying to hold us down inside the darkness. A lot are of Em being little and being lost or abducted. In my dreams I would run through the airport checking elevators and closets to find her. I would awake and think, “it’s okay, we still have hope, she’s not gone yet”. Only to really regain consciousness and discover that we didn’t have any hope in the here and now; this side of Heaven. Some dreams are of her confined to a wheelchair and never regaining her zest for life and seeing her lose the ability to look at the bright side of life. The nightmares show her never being able to comb her own hair and loosing the spirit that made her Em. They would stay and haunt me for days only to pull me back into a dark, deep pit. This dream though, I would call “heaven breathed.” I dreamt that Em left me a voicemail. On the voicemail, she said as only Em could with smile in her voice, “Hey Mom! Just checkin’ in! I just wanted you to know that… (at this point her voice began to shake as if she was beginning to cry)…I miss my old life Mom, but…(she gets the exuberance back in her voice and continues)…you won’t believe it here!! It’s amazing. Can’t talk mom, I’m on my way to meet John, Mary etc (and she rattled off some names I can’t remember. I’m thinking like Noah, Rich Mullins, etc, because I think all of her loved ones that have gone before her, met her as she arrived at the gate). I’ll see ya Mom! I‘ll see ya!.” It was SOOO Em. On her way to the next adventure; never slowing down. It was something that again resonated in my heart and made me happy for her, so happy as she continued to enjoy life and all it could be. She did it here and she was continuing there. Happy for her, sad because we missed her so much and missed the joy she had about living. She had a way about making you feel better about whatever. If it was good, it was better with Em. If it was a bummer, then smile, it will get better kind of attitude. We all missed what she brought into our lives and into our home. It was unique and special to say the least. Only having a real sense of Goodness deep in your being can produce such an outlook and attitude. This dream became a treasure and one that I believe was a gift to encourage our hurting souls.

As for the “Goodness”, you can see it was slow to go. There were just some simple truths that we relied heavily on. Friends were huge, support was incredible, the extended family was deep into the grief once again right there with us, and the tangible little ways that God showed himself were keeping us barely afloat. We had the Promise of God’s love still deep inside, but not showing itself hardly at all, but yes, it still existed. The life giving faith that makes all things do-able was still buried deep beneath the pain and we hadn’t seen or experienced enough Goodness to cut through ALL that heartache. We would need to see and experience even more to cut through the darkness and for it to somehow catapult us into a more healthy way of living again and to allow us to see some more of His light.

So here we go, onto the Good.  The really good, the kind that makes you happy to be alive again.  Happy that you didn’t give up, happy that you fought and went to the front lines of the battle that you really thought you might lose. I can’t say that it’s “that kind of joy” that we’ve found again. The kind prior to Em going Home.  That’s the kind of joy and blissfulness that only comes from escaping tragedy and heartache. It’s not that, but it is joy and goodness. It’s different now.  We still live with the pain and Em still is a constant in our minds.  But we have had a couple of days that were days that we could smile and say “Now that was fun! What a great day!” We find ourselves different than before. I’m not sure we’ll ever be whole again.  The Em shaped whole in the heart of her family is just too huge, but maybe a little wiser in some ways because of the suffering we go through.  Our outlook on life and love is deeper than we could have ever imagined.  We take nothing for granted and I feel we are more grateful than those who haven’t went through deep trials and grief. I think it goes with the territory.  In our humanness, I think we would wish to be ignorant like before and less caring and have our Em back, but because our lives have taken a different spin, I would like to think that we have gained a greater sense of purpose, compassion and love.  I only wish the suffering wasn’t directly related  to this more enlightened way of living.

One of the ways in which we’ve experienced Goodness is because of the depth of compassion we feel for others. I think we truly understand the pain that people endure. I had the privilege and honor to help care for my mother after she endured and suffered the affects of a stroke this spring. We spent a lot of precious time together and, though she felt she was a burden, I would consider it a blessing.  Not the long hard days of 5 hour rehab sessions, but the time spent together as she fought back to regain the losses that she has suffered.  Even the basic bathing and physical care were times of laughter and tears and ones that I am thankful for.  She is my mother whom I love with all my heart.  She gave up so much for us and had a rough start in life.  She is my hero and being able to care for her and spend a lot of time with her was so special. It’s kind of the new person I think I’ve become; one with a new and deeper satisfaction and appreciation that I “get” to. It sure beats the alternative. Giving and caring for those that I love brings me deep satisfaction.  Maybe it’s also why I am enjoying caring for the babies/children so much.

As bad as our situation is, there unfortunately are others that have suffered more.  The pain that people endure is always in the forefront of our minds.  The lack of compassion and narrow-mindedness unfortunately is also.  I now know of families that have suffered the loss of all of their children as well as a new friend of mine, whose daughters website www.journeysafe.com is linked to this website, has suffered the loss of their firstborn son to cancer and a their only daughter to a prom night accident. You don’t have to look to far to see pain.  It’s everywhere, but the common thread I also find is in many cases there is a lack of hope.  I can also say that I understand the fragility of the human mind.  Jeff and I went to school with a guy who felt he lost everything and made some poor choices because of his desperation, and now finds himself doing time.  Many will say, “well, what do you expect? He has to pay the consequences.  Yes, he does, but I too have felt that desperation, maybe not in the same manner, in those darkest days and believe it was only the grace of God that kept me from insanity or going over the edge.  Our minds and hearts can only endure so much.  I think any of us on any given day or circumstance are a split second from snapping. It isn’t an excuse, it’s a reality of the pain that invades the mind for some people.  Another very minor, but very real, thing that I have found for myself is the freedom I have found in being real. I mean really real.  I feel like so many have seen me at my worst and yet guess what? People still seem to like me.  I have the freedom to go out in public without make-up on, because in those first years I would cry it all off anyway. I can go out looking like what most would consider “crap“ because I know what it took to even pull on some sweats and go out.  There is a freedom in knowing that you can be who you are even while in the trenches.  I think most people appreciate the authenticity.  How much better would we all be if we could all be open and vulnerable.  Granted, it’s a minor thing, but I still will give God the credit for this little aspect of Goodness.

When I slowly began to trust God and allow him to comfort me again, He used songs to speak into my broken spirit.  I believe songs helped renew my spirit and speak the truth of His love for us back into our lives even when we couldn’t see it.  I would try to find solace in the Bible, but most of the time I felt schizophrenic.  In the Psalms I’d read “Turn to me and be gracious to me for I am lonely and afflicted.  The troubles of my heart have multiplied; free me from my anguish.”. Then a few chapters later it would be “I will still be confident of this, that I will see the Goodness of the Lord.  Wait for the Lord, be strong and take heart”.  I would try to read it, believe it and then my mind would flip to “Goodness?  I see NO goodness.  Be strong?  Wait?  Haven’t I been strong enough and waited long enough? And then the 1 Peter 5:6-11, which I had prayed over Em and had always been a favorite, now was making me ticked.  In verse 10 “And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast”. What once comforted me was making me respond with a “yeah, whatever”.  I felt like nothing really soothed the soul.  And that Gods word for the first time in my mind didn’t make a lick of sense.  NOW, I see that even then He was trying to speak truth back into my life. But at that time, it was too much to comprehend.  My simple mind couldn’t keep up with the thoughts of Em, the pain we were encountering and the truth of His Word.  It just wasn’t lining up for me, so God used songs to keep me grounded and at least one foot in the game.  He used Christian radio and I found that most everything that was playing I found significance in.  I felt I wasn’t “completely losing it” (I use that term loosely, just ask Sarah ;).  Music from Natalie Grant entitled “Held” had words like “to think that providence would take her child from her mother as she prays is appalling”….and it goes on to say in the chorus “This is what it means to be held, how it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life and you survive.  This is what it is to be loved and to know that the promise was that when everything fell, we’d be held”.  It goes on to say “what if hope is born of suffering.  Can we not wait for a hour, watching for our Savior”.  And so I did.  I allowed the song to “hold” me and believed that hope would return while I waited for “a hour” in God’s time which was more like 4 years in my timeline, but I would wait while being “held”.  There has been many, many over the past 5 years and one even recently by JJ Heller entitled “Your Hands”. It says “I am trying to understand, how to walk this weary land.  Make straight the paths crookedly lie (my words plug in “the paths of this crooked life”).  The chorus “when the world is shaking, Heaven stands. When my heart is breaking, I never leave your hands”.  It goes on to say “when you walked upon the earth, you healed the broken, lost and hurt. I know you hate to see me cry.  One day you will set all things right”.  God used our local radio station of 91.3 to communicate with me and keep me as His own.  These songs would be how I would pray and they would keep my mind focused on eternity. I believe that if I hadn’t allowed myself to hear those truths that my relationship with Him and others would be broken beyond repair.  I think that the natural tendency to grow bitter and resentful would have indeed happened.  We unfortunately see it all the time.  I know in Gods Goodness that He didn’t want to lose us and used any means possible to keep us from falling totally and completely away from Him.

Even though there have been things that have aided our family as far as comforting us, nothing seems to help and soothe us like the mEMories that never fade. God gave us SO many.  He also provided us with “things” that we can hold, touch and hug that were of Em.  They become treasures beyond measure for me in particular.  I love that they retired her volleyball jersey and I get to wear it every mEMorial weekend.  I love that they took an imprint of Em’s hand after she left us and it now sets on our counter so I can hold her hand whenever I want.  I often stroke those long fingers and see every crease in her wrinkly hands and fondly remEMber every block and kill they made on a volleyball.  I sometimes hold her phone close to my cheek, just to try and feel her.  She had the words “Dance Inside” on the view part of her phone.  I find it kinda sweet because I think that’s how she was. I have her bear that Dana gave her that I sleep with every night and Em’s clear ribbon “dealie” tied around it’s neck like Em use to do as her own fashion statement.  And of course the car she loved so much but unfortunately only got to drive a few times.  The mEMories are of many long trips to Florida, many years twice a year, to see Gram and Gramp.  Memories of songs sung at the top of our lungs as a family just seeming to be loving and living life.  Several trips to California to see Aunt Liz and Aunt Wanda.  Trips there by train to see the country and visiting the crazies of Pier 39, chocolates at Ghirardelli and pictures every different visit at the beach and Golden Gate.  Trips with the different teams of Blue Power competition and one of the most mEMorable to Salt Lake City with FarOut volleyball. It didn’t seem like we saw her that much for sight-seeing and other excursions. She was always up early, riding the trolley to breakfast, or shopping at Park City or seeing the Olympic sites or riding the ski lifts with friends before competition began.  I remember feeling sad because I thought she was “ditching” us, but I also remember  thinking “Good for her!”  She was loving life with some dear friends that she adored.  Now I believe it was all part of cramming in the most into every opportunity.  As a family we were able to do Disney a few times, and did a lot of trips to different beaches like Daytona on the Atlantic, Fort Myers on the Gulf, Huntington, Hermosa, Muir on the Pacific and many, many to Lake Michigan.  Sunsets were her favorite and now I have taken up that cause.  They make me feel close to her and I always wonder what kind of view she is getting now. Another memory that will always remain with me is when we attended an “Acquire the Fire” Christian youth event in Detroit.  70,000 youth and their chaperones were at a 2 day event that had President Gerald Ford as one of the guest speakers.  The Christian rock group “Newsboys” were there.  As a chaperone I had to accompany one of the youths to the bathroom, and as we made our way back to our seats, I looked up as 70,000 youth were singing to “Entertaining Angels” with their hands in the air swaying back and forth.  I spotted our seats and saw Em singing this with her eyes closed and tears streaming down her face. “Entertaining Angels by the light of my TV screen, 24-7 you wait for me. Entertaining Angels by the time I fall to my knees, Host of Heaven sing over me.” An amazing memory burnt into my memory as I believe she is experiencing it all again, but this time for real. These wonderful memories help the hurting heart. Another memory, but maybe one that brings more laughter than tears, is when we took several youth to the RCA dome for another youth event.  This time during our bus ride we played the Fear Factor game.  Em got into the finals before having to choose between eating a cricket or eating a jar of chicken dinner baby food.  She chose the baby food but couldn’t finish it and lost the game due to the dry heaves. (This one is for you Benedict boys!) I am so glad that we invested our time in real and tangible ways into their lives and that we were able to witness so many great aspects of their lives.  There were so many events that were special like her baptism and her excitement as she talked about her and Isaiah going to the Ray Boltz concert when they were about 9 and 10.  Both events were life changing for a young girl. Our most amazing time together as a family was when we took a week long house boat trip with extended family in Kentucky and cruised the Cumberland River for a week. It had a penthouse on top, hot tub up there too, 2 circle slides off the back and like 4 bedrooms. My brother brought his boat that we pulled behind the house boat, and tubing on a four person tube and scoping out waterfall areas was a daily thing as well. We have so many, many mEMories and I’m so grateful that we experienced all of them.  We really had a great family!  We enjoyed our down time together at home as well and had lazy nights of apples, caramel and popcorn as we watched movies or played a game of Racko or Balderdash. And some of those same traditions we will continue with Sarah and Adam and their family.  I share all of this to encourage all of you who may read this to live your life completely and fully with your family while you have the opportunity.  “Someday” may never come.

The attendance at Em’s mEMorial events has been something that has helped us each and every year.  We love that so many continue to remEMber and come to pay honor to Em.  Even though we’ve written several thank you’s in regards to this, we couldn’t let another opportunity go by without saying that it is definitely part of God’s goodness that we have seen. We hope that it continues for many years to come.  It’s definitely something that we appreciate more than words can adequately convey.  It’s our way of staying in touch with all of you who have impacted our lives, and encouraged to stay the path.  In the deep grief it would have been just as easy to retreat to our home and grief privately and painfully. Yet the mEMorial weekends allow us to thank you for all you have meant to Em and to us.  You really have been a life-line to us.  Thanks for keeping us in a place that Em would want for us to be.  It keeps us experiencing love and friendships that makes this rough ride of life worthwhile.

This whole segment has been on Goodness and we would be doing such an injustice if we didn’t mention our “son” Adam.  He’s not a natural son, but married into this crazy family.  You know, he had only been with Sarah just over a year when Em’s accident happened.  The tension, the breakdowns, the battles that we fought and lost, the unhappiness, the unbelievable grief we had, was something that some would have said “look, you are all important to me and I’ve come to care for you, but I just didn’t sign up for this.  It’s too sad, it’s too broken, it’s just too messed up for me”.  And yes, we sure were.  But he stayed.  He gave lots of hugs, lots of looks, and less spoken words but he still communicated through the care in his eyes that he loved us.  His devotion to Sar makes me cry even now, because nobody knows what they have endured and how he stayed even when he didn’t know how to. He will often ask what we thought of him in the beginning and I tell him that we thought he was a “wild ass” but there was something about the way he loved Sar that was evident even in those early days that won our hearts over.  Our family has endured alot of death, even before Em, but Adam hadn’t until now.  It has to be hard to go through your first real death experience with someone that you deeply loved, who was so young, so fun and vibrant and that you had some incredible times with.  He loved our Em and she loved him.  We have fond memories of her giggling while Adam would go running into her room and jump on her while she was in her waterbed.  It wasn’t uncommon for the 2 of them to watch a movie together or even all 3 of them in cozy up in Em’s warm waterbed. He is the son we never had but we are SO glad he’s in and that he’s now ours too and that he never has left our families side. And most importantly that he hasn’t let Sar walk alone when times were the hardest. God has been Good to us.  God gave us Adam.

The statistics on a marriage that endures the hardships of grief aren’t very good….they actually really suck….and 80% succumb to divorce. Praise be to God that we weren’t one of those statistics on this one.  We have never been anything but completely together on this one.  Jeff has been incredibly patient and understanding even when I couldn’t shower and only remained as far as the couch for months and months, or when clothes weren’t washed, or no groceries in the fridge and no hope for me entering the work force to help out financially.  I think that you learn really fast what is truly important and that you have to love unconditionally when you-yourself are completely depleted and can offer nothing except time and acceptance.  We both grief completely differently and give each other however much room and grace is needed to endure with the pressing and crippling pain. We do talk about Em and our feelings quite often, but more so in the beginning years.  I can remember the first day that Jeff had told me about “it being the first day that he hadn’t sobbed all the way home from work” or about the thoughts he had of Em while he spent hours in a tree stand contemplating life and what to do about it now.  We kept a constant vigil on Sarah and talked and cried for her and her pain. Sarah would probably disagree and may feel differently about our over involvement or lack of it at times.  I’m sure she felt abandoned and orphaned much of the time, but the truth from a parents stand point is that we thought we were losing another child. We weren’t really sure about anything.  We truly didn’t know if any of us would survive it.  I think the reality of what we were going through only heightened our fear at times. Jeff and I were united in all that mattered.  Our thoughts were even the same when it came to God.  I remember him saying “why not us?” Why would God choose us to parent such amazing kids as Sar and Em.  What have we ever done to deserve such a privilege? He spoke of the sovereignty of God and how without Him we are nothing.  I’m his biggest fan and I think he really likes me too J.  Together we make a pretty darn good couple and God has done amazing things and taught us much and molded us together in ways that has enabled us to withstand the hardships of life. Even today as I’ve been at this computer all day, he went to the store, brought me a piece of pizza and told me to keep going on this message.  He believes in it too and we both trust that God will do with it what He chooses.  October 26 will be our 25th wedding anniversary and I am blessed to call him my partner for life.  It’s been a great run and so worth all the work.  Marriage is worth fighting for.  It’s a part of the legacy we leave and another huge blessing of God’s Goodness in my life. I love him with everything I am. I am his and he is mine. (Okay…you get the picture)

So this paragraph brings me to the greatest Goodness that I have witnessed thus far in this life journey.  It’s our Sar and how she has been an unbelievable warrior in battling the pain.  The pain she endures personally everyday and the fight to rise above her circumstances and situations is incredible.  I call her fondly, proudly and lovingly “our overachiever”.  Wow!  She’s really something and I could sing her praises from the roof tops. It has been no easy road.  The grief alone could have caused her to give up on everything and at times I think she was close.  She fought to stay in school while working at a dance studio, taking a full load of college courses and grieving simultaneously.  She and Adam went through so much relationally too.  He would get frustrated that he couldn’t make her the pain go away, and she’d want him to do more. There was no easy answer.  No one could help the pain.  No one could help her parents to step up and be parents again. No one could bring Em back.  Much of the time it was a very lonely existence for her and for all of us.  How she did all she did remains a miracle to us.  We all do what we have to do somehow and you just hope it pays off.  I believe God knew her heart and knew intimately of her need, and I think when no one could help push her like she deserved, that God was there.  He’s always there but most times you just don’t see Him. If Sarah and Adam were to see the load they were going to bear, that it would have been like setting themselves up for failure.  To see it in its entirety would have been too much, but little by little, well, I should say a lot by a lot, they just somehow did it.  With God’s help, His grace, and His mercies, and their unwavering determination, they finished college on time. For Sarah, that in and of itself while dealing with grief is such an accomplishment.  Many students are overwhelmed with the work load of classes, let alone working too, plus she took off a semester after her breakdown in December following Em’s passing. Adam’s commitment to her somehow stayed true even though there were many days when we thought their relationship couldn’t overcome so much pain and hurt.

Then they found out she was pregnant.  I mean seriously.  Why don’t we just up the ante to a place that it makes it seem really unattainable.  The crazy thing about suffering is that nothing really surprises you anymore.  When they told us, I remember Jeff laughing hysterically.  To a point where it made Sarah and Adam uncomfortable because they thought that this really did push him over the edge. When they left after telling us, I remember Jeff saying “sure they are.  Why not?  Everything else has happened, why not this too?” But yet, we were hopeful that this new baby would bring some peace to Sarah’s heart and a purpose to fight all the harder.  Or it could do just the opposite.  Bring more stress, more financial pressure to their already strained relationship, and just do them both in.  Here we go…don’t have time to think about it, just react.  That’s what they did.  They enrolled in summer classes, Adam signed up for study abroad to get that requirement in and Sar took 21 credits, all with a newborn.  Ever since Em’s Homecoming, I’ve always had a hard time with Romans 8:28. “All things work together for good to those that love the Lord”.  I could see nothing good about our grief situation for the longest time.  But in the instance that Rydik Jeffrey Wrubel was born, I saw a contentment on Sarah’s face that I had not seen since she was a little girl.  He was a blessing beyond measure. Their situation worked together for so much good.  He was such a great little baby and Adam and Sar learned to work together as they balanced college, midnight feedings and work. Because of their schedules they needed help with his care during the day, and Rydik provided a purpose for getting me up in the mornings again. Jeff took his turn on his day off as well. Adam and Sarah are amazing parents and Rydik has grown to be a happy, smart, well adjusted little boy. They take him to the orchard, to the circus, the zoo, countless days to the beach or constantly to the neighboring parks where they have lived. He’s 2 and he’s already been to Florida, the Dells, and even a trip to the Rain Forest (see, they are incredible over-achievers). I could go on and on as this momma (and the daddy) are so very proud of their kids. The condensed version is that Sarah and Adam both graduated on time, planned a wedding, got married, endured a miscarriage, bought a cute house, landed jobs in their field, and are now expecting another precious child. Sar is now in the throws of being a first year teacher, but what an amazing one she is and will be as she grows in her career.  She will have a lasting and significant impact on her students because of her work ethic, perseverance  and sensitivity to struggle and heartache.  She will be a model to many who will be blessed to call her their teacher and friend.  Even now, I sit here shaking my head in disbelief. It’s been such a transformation to see and it’s really only by God’s mercies that we are able to be on this side of what was some of what I call “the worst of times” for Sar, and subsequently our family, in many of those darkest times.  There were many and I do mean many.   I remember following Jeff as he held Sarah in the back of a police car as we followed it from GVSU, after they called us because of a break down that she was experiencing.  We were told we couldn’t take her because of the severity and that she needed to be evaluated for psychological reasons. Another time of remembrance was when I sat outside of our bathroom door on the floor.  Sar’s body was wreaking havoc as she locked the door and I heard the deep heartache pouring out of her, both in deep shrieks of pain, fits of crying and whaling, to the point of throwing up. I would find myself helpless to care for her in any way that might help, so I just sat in front of the bathroom door weeping and saying, “I love you Sar, I’m so, so sorry. I‘m not going anywhere. I’ll stay right here.” Anything to try to relay my love to her, knowing that the pain she bore was something that I could never take away or even lessen from our precious Sar. It was a battle unique to her because of the blessed relationship that she and Em shared, and all we could try and do was to love her through it, even in our crippled condition.  It really is a testimony to God and how He has carried her through and the incredible human spirit that Sarah possesses.   Em was Sar’s biggest fan (and vice-versa) and I know Em is so incredibly proud too of her/our Sarah Elizabeth.

Rydik has brought unspeakable joy to our family.  He is the boy we never had and we enjoy all the “boy” things like playing with sticks, digging in the dirt and all the boy toys, like bats and balls, and hoops and dump trucks and backhoes.  It, however, isn’t without flashbacks and reminders of pain that we simply can’t escape.  When we play cars, I find myself always turning them right-side up as not to see them on their top.  And sure we wish Em was here to be the aunt that Rydik deserves, but she still has an important place in his life and in his heart. He knows of Aunt Emmie, kisses her picture and we explain to him that Aunt Emmie had an “owey” that the doctors couldn’t make better.  We tell him that Jesus made her all better now and that she is happy and playing volleyball in Heaven and that someday he’ll be able to see her, but even though she’s away, she still loves him very much.  We hope that it’s a lesson in life and death, and in hope and restoration even for a 2 year old as we begin instilling in him the goodness of God.  It’s not just wishful thinking for us. It’s the deep assurance and knowledge of our future and only one breath away when He says so.  At Em’s mEMorial tournament, Sarah explained that they were going to a party for Emmie.  He said “well, then is Emmie gonna fly down from Heaven to blow out her candles?” There is such a tenderness about that boy!  Jeff and I always say “We love that boy!”  And that we do!  He is an extension of the deep love we have for Sar, Adam and Em. Rydik alone will hold a special place in our hearts as will be the case with each and every blessing that comes into our lives by way of Sar and Adam and the union they share.  He has blessed our lives so very much.  I can’t think we would be at this same point in our lives without him.  He makes us smile again. He makes us happy, like really happy! Just this week, he was trying to make “Charlie-boy”, as he calls him, smile (a little guy I get to care for M-Th). Charlie was in his high chair and Rydik breaks out in dance and song as he sings Beyonces “All the Single Ladies”. He’s got his hands tucked up under his arms like wings and is strutting, shaking and just being hilarious. Then Charlie gets his belly laugh going as he sports a big toothless grin. It’s a new and different kind of smile for me now. Not just the fake stuff that we painted on for several years but didn‘t really feel. It has also been a joy to watch Sar and Adam become their own family, and they will experience their own memories that will be unique and special to them alone. We all will wish that things were different, but we won’t let the deep pain of yesterday distort the blessing that God continues to give.

I would hope that our family will always acknowledge where we’ve been, where we are now and where we will all be one day.  And day by day celebrate the good things.  We were able to do this a couple of times thus far since Em went Home.  It’s been a long time to really feel joy again with the exception of Rydik’s birth and Sar and Adam’s accomplishments. And even longer to feel like we could really live again and not just go through the motions. But I can honestly say that Sar and Adam’s wedding day was a time of real happiness for our family.  We felt as though we acknowledged Em and that she was very much a part of the day.  I never believed we could have such an important family event and truly be happy without her physical presence there but it happened.  There was a “feel” of Em as we celebrated with Sar and Adam.  There was dancing, smiles, friends, family, music, laughter and a joy that we hadn’t experienced in 4 years.  It came unexpectedly and it was there in all it’s fullness and we had an incredible time.  Everything was as close to perfect as could be without having Em there in person.  The weather, the stars, the moon and everything else pointed to Heaven and the Goodness that was there up in Heaven and to the joy of what was under the tent in our backyard.  It was good….so very good!  My mom in fact, the next day, explained how much the day had meant to her through her tears.  She said she hadn’t seen her family that happy in a very long time.  It blessed her to see the joy return if even for a moment in time. It’s been excruciating for them to watch as we’ve struggled before their eyes and the loss of their grand daughter has been crippling to them as well.  They went from just three grandchildren to two.

We had another opportunity to experience God’s goodness.  It was in a place that typically brings smiles to children’s faces, but for those of us who long for glimpses of happiness to return to our hearts, it was a place that brought contentment and hope that truly one day we might be able to live beyond the pain again for maybe even for more than a day at a time. We spent the day at Michigan Adventures, Jeff and I, Sar, Adam and Rydik.  I think we were the happiest family in the park.  When happiness has all but disappeared and suddenly returns, there is a treasure that you can hardly contain. I could bore you with the details and you wouldn’t understand our joy anyways because you haven’t walked the same broken road as us.  The day was filled with sun and water, and smiles and laughter as we all enjoyed each other and celebrated what God had done in our lives independently and as two separate families and together as one family. It felt like it had been all but forever since I felt that whole and alive. It was a day I will never forget as long as I live!

Last night Jeff and I attended a concert from a flash in our past.  On those many trips to Florida, we as a family liked Steven Curtis Chapman.  The kids were young but knew all the songs.  One of Em’s favorites was “The Great Adventure”. The song goes “Saddle up your horses, we gotta trail to blaze. Through the wild blue yonder of God’s amazing grace.  Let’s follow our leader into the glorious unknown. This is a life like no other. This is the great adventure”.  Seems fitting to me that Em so lived her life that way. Sadly, the Chapman family has experienced a similar loss of their own as their 5 year old daughter was killed in an accident at their home.  A song that Steven wrote and sings now resonates with us as we suffer similar tragedies and these words echo our same pain and heartache.  This one is entitled “Yours” and the lyrics go “I walked the valley of deaths shadow, so deep and dark I could barely breathe. I’ve had to let go of more than I could bear and I’ve questioned everything that I’ve believed.  Still in this great darkness, a comfort and hope can bring you through as I say as in life or death, we belong to You.”  This is our story!!  It is our sentiments exactly as we trust in God’s sovereignty and seek to experience life again in ways that aren’t always cloudy with so much pain. This new way of living is foreign to us and I think Jesus would say that we are learning a lot about life and love and that we are definitely a work in progress.  We know that the pain will always be, so we just wait for God’s goodness to envelope our lives as we live beyond the pain.  We can hope to steward this new life that is a part of who we are now and do it well.  We pray that we bring Em’s legacy to it’s fulfillment while we simultaneously leave ours! And all the while, we will never forget what awaits us beyond this life, knowing that in the end, it’ll all be Good!

Blessing of His goodness to you and yours always!