When Makenzie died this past June, I never realized how deeply that wound cut. In my mind, I thought, “Ok, after a few weeks, things should be back to ‘normal.’” Foolish thought; especially in response to the loss of someone who brought so much joy to my life and the rest of the entire planet.
It would’ve been easy to lock myself away and not be open about what God has allowed to happen. (Truthfully, there are too many days, now, that I feel like doing that). But it has been helpful for me to write and talk about Makenzie; to let you see into my ‘home.’
A friend of mine wrote an email that captures this idea from an outside perspective:
“Voyeur, peeping tom, trespasser … that’s how I feel sometimes when I read your blog.
Part of me doesn’t want to read it. Another part of me wants to. Depending on the day, one of them wins. And there are those moments where I feel like I am invading your privacy, looking into a window of a house from the street, hiding in the dark because I don’t leave a comment…
I feel like I have stepped into the holy of holies of someone’s grief, a place typically off limits. . But then I am reminded you have invited me in, opened the door, even ripped the curtain from to top to bottom just to let us in. I feel like I shouldn’t be here but you have said come on in. I am reminded of Christ death, the torn curtain, the holy of holies and having full access to God. It feels like I should be there but I have been invited in by His grace and through His pain.
Most people don’t do what you are doing. Most people rarely share. Seldom, even as a pastor, are you invited in. But then you are not most people and I thank God for that. Thank you for showing us grace and inviting us in … even into the pain. You are profoundly changing people’s experience with grief, grace and even God!”
Brad Heintz, Living Word Church (http://www.lwcba.org/)
Peace
todd
Life Changing Links …
For the past few months, I’ve taken you on a journey of grief, struggle, joy, and hope. I’ve shared my desperate ache at the loss of my daughter, Makenzie and I’ve tried to explain what pain and gain feel like as they stroll, arm in arm, through my emotional hallway. Sometimes, I’ve been successful; Other times, my words are thin.
Last weekend, Kellie and I were surrogate parents at Iowa State’s parent weekend for Alex, the young man Makenzie took to prom in March. (His mom and dad were out of town). We went to the football game, toured the sprawling campus, and met several of Alex’s friends. It was loads of fun.
Friends,
I think I have issues. You see, I’ve always been a light-hearted person. More or less, I’ve had a positive view of life; a silver-lining vs. cloud-encompassing mentality. After Makenzie went home to be with Jesus a few months ago, I wasn’t sure if there would be any residue of my joy intact. These days, I’ve found the Lord has preserved my heart and I actually hear myself laughing again. (
Already, my thoughts are turbulent. As the sun bubbled up over the horizon and spilled out onto this morning’s canvas, feelings of uncertainty, sadness and loss battled for control of my emotions. Thankfully, God brought to mind the lyrics to a song that we sang at church this past Sunday.
In the past, my tears partnered with a specific event; I hit my finger with a hammer – tears; I watched the end of “It’s a Wonderful Life” – tears; I witnessed the Minnesota Gophers throw away an opportunity to knock off Cal – tears. Yesterday was different. My tears trailed down my 40+ year old wrinkles and I didn’t know why.
Birthdays come and birthdays go. Some I celebrate; others are swallowed up by the busyness of life. Today is one of the latter for me and that’s fine. It is one of the many “first’s without …” that I’ll experience over the next years as I continue my journey into the new normal.
A friend of ours was pondering the amount of people that Makenzie’s life affected. Realizing that the number was in the thousands, she said, “Makenzie had a web of influence that was beautiful and reached around the world. It’s Makenzie’s Web.”
