A favorite blogger of mine, Chris Brogan, recently asked about the importance of story in life, and it got me thinking…

It’s easy to look at our lives and question what’s going on…especially in the darkest of times.  But if we view our lives as a story, it gives perspective.  It helps us recognize that today probably isn’t the end.  It teaches us to note the challenges and successes of today so that they have a positive and lasting impact on our plot line.  And it helps us appreciate the fact that we’re connected to a multitude of characters who enrich our lives and give us strength for the journey.

This perspective gives me hope as we continue to move forward in life after losing Judson.

Dear Judson,

I miss you today.

I still remember how excited I was the year you came into our home.  As your due date approached, I was full of anticipation.  And with my birthday just a few days before, I felt like I was getting the best gift I could ever receive!  My heart was so full of joy!

And I thought about all of the times we would share birthday celebrations together.  The tradition we started was for me to take you on a special father-son birthday date.  Sadly, it's another tradition that we won't be able to enjoy together.

This season is missing so much without you here.  And of all days, this is the most incomplete--your birthday!  We have so much to celebrate--for on this day you brought such joy into our lives.  And yet it's not the same to celebrate you when you're gone.  How do we tell you how much we love you and how much you mean to us when you're not here?

I can't know whether you hear me or not, but today all I can do is cry out and declare how much I love you and how precious you are to me.  My voice may not reach your ears, but I will raise my voice nonetheless.  You are such a treasure, so precious to me!

With all of my heart,
Daddy

Dear Judson,

You know I could never forget you, but I'm having a harder and harder time remembering you.  We have pictures, videos and memories of you, but they're all flat compared to the beautiful, brilliant boy you were and are.  I miss you.

In truth, as I begin my third year without you, I find myself losing you a second time.  The first time left me broken and turned my world upside-down.  Now, I find myself without bearings.  I can't find you.  I can't remember you.  And I begin to feel as though I've lost myself as I've lost touch with you.  At my most basic core I am your father and loving you is essential to who I am, so as your face is more and more obscured, I feel less and less myself.  I've lost so very much!

I know that I will see you again, and then I will be fully myself and fully free.  But for now I grieve and miss you.

Lots and lots of love,
Daddy

Drake

Dear Jud,

I took Jessie to coffee today.  I wish I could have taken you with us.  There was a spot on the couch just for you.

The fact is, there will always be an empty spot.  There will always be someone missing without you here, no matter how complete life might otherwise feel.  And at two years without you, I’ve come to accept it.

And I ache.  No matter what else I do, who I’m with, or how filled with awe I am about life, my heart hurts.  Jud, you are one of a kind, a treasure, and I could not have asked for a better son.  It’s no wonder that I ache the way I do!

I miss you terribly.

So today, I remember the boy you were.  I would say “are,” for I know you are now very alive with Christ.  But I say “were” because the only Judson I know is the one of the past—the loving, brilliant, and tenderhearted boy who left me too long ago.

One day, I will know you as you are again.  I can’t tell you how much I look forward to that day!  But for now I remember and grieve and give thanks for you.

I love you, Judson!

Tons and tons,
Daddy

Dear Judson,

Happy Fourth Birthday!

I’d love to take you out for coffee today.  We could go to Peet’s.  Instead of sharing my drink with you, I’d get you your own.  And it would be a nice, sweet, Happy Birthday hot cocoa.  By the end, I’m sure you’d have chocolate all over your mouth-you are, after all, my son.

After that, I’d take you to the fountain or the bookstore, or even to look at toys.  It’s your birthday, so I’d probably get you a new car or train.  You could have picked it out yourself!

This isn’t the first and it won’t be my last wish that doesn’t come true concerning you.

But that’s just the beginning-there’s a whole world of things I’ll never see.  I’ll never know what you would start playing with if your Thomas trains got old.  I’ll never find out whether you’ll like the second Cars movie better than the first.  I’ll never know whether you’d have played a musical instrument or what sport you would like best.  I won’t see you and Jessie carry on a full conversation this side of eternity.

I’m bracing myself for a lifetime of this.

If being a father is one part love it’s also two parts hope.  My hope was propelled by the promises of God and nourished by so many prayers for you.  I looked forward with great anticipation of what you were becoming, wondering what might be in store for an articulate and kind-hearted boy like you!

If hope deferred makes the heart grow sick (Pr. 13:12), what am I to do with hope destroyed?  I don’t know; the wound goes very deep.  But today I’ll be content to hurt and remember you, my precious boy!

And I’ll wait with hope in the One who will soon make everything new-and will rejoice at our reunion.  What a glad day that will be!

With all my love,
Daddy

Dear Judson,

I love you so much.  I’m so proud of you.  I miss you.

I have such a deep reservoir of love for you.  Even though you’ve left, you have an abiding place in my heart-and you will hold greater sway during my life than anyone I’ve known because you died long before any father would expect.  It doesn’t hurt that you are such a kind, precious, brilliant boy.

Because my love for you is so deep, my grief at your loss is, too.  I am broken.  I don’t know how this will change through the years or how much better I will learn to hold up under it.  But I embrace the reality that I will carry this deep brokenness the rest of my days.

As hard as it is to carry, I am content to do so.  You are such a treasure, my only son, irreplaceable!  And worth every single tear!

Perhaps my brokenness will bear good fruit.  If it gives me greater compassion for others, I will be grateful.  And because I lost you, every day I’m reminded that this earth is not heaven, and I yearn for my true and lasting home more than I ever have before.

It’s great comfort to know that I will see you there.  But it couldn’t be soon enough!

With all my love,
Daddy

Dear Judson,

It’s been a year since you left us and I miss you terribly.  Every father hopes for a son like you: bright and thoughtful, loving and kind.  I love so much about you in part because I see a kindred spirit in you—your smile, your kind way of dealing with people, your sense of humor, the way you affirmed people, and your gentleness added to my deep fatherly affection for you.  I’m so proud of you!  I could not ask for more from a son!!!

I think you know how much I believe in you.  I had such high hopes for you here on earth—hopes that were so justified—and so it breaks my heart not to see you fulfill them in your own unique way.

But it is not that God’s purpose in you failed.  In your short life, my most repeated prayer for you, inspired by the Spirit, was that you would be a blessing.  And what a blessing you have been—to us and to so many others who have met you and heard about you!  What a blessing your life continues to be in the hands of our Savior!

You were just a little boy and small in the world’s reckoning, but God’s purpose has given your life meaning far beyond your years.  You are like a tiny seed that grows up to be the largest tree in the forest, providing shade and shelter to many.  Your little life has altered the direction of many for the Kingdom of God!  And I expect it will only continue to do so.

So, a year after you died and entered into what is truly life, I both mourn and celebrate you!  You are such a treasure, so precious to me. I so long to see you, Jud, and to lavish you with hugs and kisses.

Until I do, I will offer both lament and praise to God for you, my son!

With all my heart,
Daddy

As we’ve walked this journey of loss and grief, a few quotes from the Lord of the Rings Trilogy have resonated.  I’ve found myself repeating the one from the clip below a great deal recently.  My sense is that it will resonate with others, too.

At the end of Return of the King, and some time after destroying the ring of power and journeying back to the Shire, Frodo finds that returning home is not what he expected it to be.  His wound at Weathertop and the burden of carrying the ring had taken its toll.

Our loss of Jud and the grief that followed have taken a toll on me.  The world retains many of its joys, and I have much to live for.  But it is not the same as it was for me—and so I understand Frodo’s sentiment.  There is no going back to the way things were.

A few scenes later, we learn that Frodo is granted the privilege of taking one of the Elven ships to the West (this is heaven in Tolkein’s world).  As one who had suffered so acutely from evil, the call to go was irresistible and so he left the Shire.

It’s a yearning I now well understand.  For while I know I must tarry here a while longer, I long for heaven, where these wounds will heal, I’ll be reunited with my beloved son, and I’ll see my Savior face to face.

That’s something to look forward to.

Only one life, ‘twill soon be past, only those things done for Christ will last.
                                                    —Author unknown

I’ve gone through life taking things as they come.  I’ve been known to let things happen rather than make things happen.  I’ve spent a good deal of my life waiting-for the right time and circumstances.

At the same time, I’ve been ruled by my fears and insecurities.  I’ve been concerned about what people would think.  I’ve managed my risks.  I’ve doubted myself and questioned my ability to do things.

Recently, something has changed.

I’m still very deliberate.  I still feel those doubts and fears.  But today, I’m unwilling to be slowed by those things.

What changed?  I’m not entirely sure.  But I think my son has a lot to do with it.

I can’t help but think of where he is-in Heaven, with Christ.  More than anything now, I want to live for Heaven’s Kingdom and Heaven’s King.  And when I see my son again, I want to hear my Savior say, “Well done!”

I really enjoyed teaching yesterday at Grace Fellowship  Church (our home church).  It was nice to unexpectedly see some old friends there, too.  What a blessing!

Here’s a link to the message, which is entitled, “Barnabas: A Good Man, Full of the Holy Spirit.”

http://www.gracefellowshipchurch.org/_sermons/gfc20080727-message.mp3

In light of what Acts says, do you think it’s fair to say that Luke means for Barnabas to be an example for people just like us?  Are you as challenged as I am by his story?

I’m excited to preach again at our home church (Grace Fellowship  Church) this Sunday, 7/27.  The sermon will be about “Barnabas, A Good Man, Full of the Holy Spirit” from Acts 11:22-26.

In case anyone’s interested, here’s the link to my last sermon from January on prayer:
http://www.gracefellowshipchurch.org/_sermons/gfc20080113-message.mp3

Dear Judson,

I have so much in my heart to say to you, Son-so much that you already know.  That I love you tons and tons.  That I’m so very proud of you.  That I miss you.

You are written indelibly on my soul.  Much of me will not endure beyond this life, but my love for you will.

With all of my heart,
Daddy

Dear Jud,

I miss hearing you sing.  I miss having you belt out songs and seeing you move as you sang.  You must have known a hundred of them-and what you weren’t taught, you just made up yourself.  I still remember hearing you sing, “Alligator!” and wondering when you came up with it.

Of course, we had little success coaxing you to sing.  We were proud parents, but you didn’t sing for show when we asked you to.  You would on your own, however, if you found yourself in the mood-then, you would sing again and again and again, without ceasing.

Now, your song is gone to us.  We have great memories and videos of you singing, but it’s not the same.  They just can’t do justice to the enthusiasm you brought to your singing.  Losing you meant losing so much of joy and music from our lives.

Yet I know you’re still singing.  And I look forward to the day in which the old order is gone, the shadows pass and we join with you in the enduring song of praise for our God and King.

Come, Lord Jesus!

Love,
Daddy

Dear Judson,

The other day, Jessie asked if she could watch videos on the computer.  We have videos of her, which we offered to show.  But, as always, she wanted to watch yours.  She sat and watched the video we showed at your funeral with me as she so often does.

Your sister loves you, Jud.  And like the rest of us, she misses you!

Your momma and I used to tell you that you were Jessie’s favorite person.  Well, it’s true!  So when you left, she felt the loss.  My sense is that she’ll feel that over her lifetime.  As sad as your mom and I were to lose you, Jessie’s loss may pierce us more.  Our hearts are full of so much love for you both-and so we think of all you would have meant to each other for a lifetime.

Of course, for you it was a lifetime.  That’s just the problem!  I expected to see you have more birthdays.  I hoped to see you grow from a boy to a man-at the same time Jessie Girl grew to be a woman.  But she will grow older and, hopefully, live a long life, and you will remain frozen-at least from our perspective-at almost three years old.  How I wish it would have been different!

Still, Jud, we will carry you with us for a lifetime!  That includes Jessie.  You can be sure that she will hear our memories of you and see the pictures and videos.  She will know that she has an older brother who loves her very much.  She will, like we do, carry you in her heart for a lifetime.  And, for all of us, that will have to be enough.

You’re in my heart, Judson!

Love,