Tom Jamieson

Following is the eulogy I wrote for my uncle Tom, who passed away of a heart attack last month. His sisters and my aunt helped me with some of the details. A shorter version was printed in the program, but this is the full eulogy. 

Tom Jamieson was born to John and Helen Irene Jamieson on June 24, 1955 in Omaha, Nebraska. He attended grade school at St. Cecilia's, followed by high school at Creighton Prep. His dad died when he was 12. Tom got a scholarship when he started high school, and he worked his way through to pay tuition. After graduating high school in 1973, he attended the University of Nebraska Omaha for about a year and got a job at the Nebraska Psychiatric Institute. He got married and moved to Seattle in 1977. That marriage only lasted about three years, but his move would start a new chapter in his life.

He worked at Doctor's Hospital in Seattle, which would merge with Swedish. It was there that he met a beautiful young woman. The third time they randomly ran into each other, he joked, "If we don't stop meeting like this, we're going to have to get married." They must have kept meeting like that, because Tom started dating Lois in 1981. They were married in 1984, and their daughter Darcy came along five years later.

After working at Swedish, Tom worked 11 years at Washington Natural Gas, followed by 14 years at Microsoft.

In recent years, he has been active in politics, and he has visited the City Council regularly (much to the chagrin of some of his political opponents). He was the Republican Chair of Washington State's 32nd District, and a Precinct Committee Officer.

Tom and Lois cared for Lois' father Ken Loge until his death in May 2015. Inspired by his father-in-law, Tom started walking regularly, up to six miles a day. Tom and Lois spent what they could not know would be their last summer together walking, going on bike rides, and even sailing on the whale boat where Darcy works.

Tom loved chess, and he won a championship at the age of 16. He was talented in several areas of art. He loved to draw, and he taught himself to play the piano. As a political activist, he made several cartoon videos to illustrate his points.

He was a deep thinker, and was proud of his membership in Mensa, for people with high IQs. He was an excellent writer and researcher, and was always eager to learn more. He had a quick wit and a caring heart.

Following a massive heart attack and a week in the hospital, Tom passed away peacefully. He is survived by his wife Lois and daughter Darcy, his siblings Holly, John, Mary and Kate, and 40 nieces, nephews, great nieces and great nephews. He is preceded in death by his parents and his brother Bill.

Kenneth L. Loge

Following is the eulogy I read at my grandpa's memorial service on Saturday, May 23, 2015 at United Evangelical Free Church in Seattle. It was broken into three segments with other speakers [indicated in square brackets] in between each segment.

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Ken Loge was born in 1915 and raised on a farm in Cooperstown, North Dakota, the oldest of five boys. He gave his life to Christ at the age of 10 at a summer camp, and as he liked to put it, God gave him a very long and interesting life. After graduating from high school, he became a teacher in a one-room schoolhouse and fell in love with a beautiful woman named Marian.

Then came the draft. He found himself on the way to bootcamp in Louisiana, and it wasn't until later, when he was stationed in Boise, Idaho, that his bride Marian was able to take a train out and they were married in a small ceremony by a pastor they had only just met, witnessed by the pastor's wife and some new neighbors. It was Valentine’s Day 1942. Marian returned home, while Ken went on to serve in New Caledonia, an island off the Australian coast. Thanks to his clerical skills, he was pulled to office duty while the rest of his platoon was sent to Guadalcanal, where most of them were killed in combat. Between that and the Battle of the Coral Sea keeping the Japanese away from their base in New Caledonia, God clearly protected him for a very long and interesting life. He was later reassigned to France and Germany, and he would ride through Paris on a tank, surrounded by jubilant crowds celebrating the Allied Forces’ victory.

Following the war, he returned to the US, where he got a job in the circulation department of the Fargo Forum in Fargo, North Dakota. After two years there, he accepted an offer for a position as circulation manager at the Watertown Public Opinion in South Dakota. Later he would accept a new position as the pastor at a church in Brooks, Alberta, followed by another church in Wainwright, Alberta. Big Timber, Montana followed, and then Salmon Arm, British Columbia. While pastoring in BC, Ken was on the founding board of a new endeavor that they called Trinity Junior College. It would eventually become known as Trinity Western University.

[Here, Inga Warnock of Trinity Western University spoke on Grandpa's legacy at TWU.]

Throughout Ken’s careers at the newspaper and as pastor, he and Marian had five children: two daughters, a son, and two more daughters.

After their ministry was completed in BC, the family moved to Stevensville, Montana, where Ken became pastor. It was during this time that their daughter Linda got a teaching job in Hamilton, Montana, and a student in her class required the special ed expertise of a certain Mr. Sauke. But that’s another story. It was also while they were there that, a few years later, his son Robert was killed in a traffic accident, leaving two young children, Tracy and Jeff.

After Stevensville, God called Ken into a new ministry, and he became administrator of the brand new nursing home that would become known as Kah Tai Care Center in Port Townsend, Washington. He and Marian ministered there alongside George and Virginia Foutz, whose son currently attends United. It was also during this time that they would visit their daughter and son-in-law in Hong Kong, and later in the Philippines. One of my earliest memories is walking with my grandpa Loge to the school where my dad taught and my big brother Tim attended.

Ken’s upbringing and various ministries gave him a passion for reaching the lost for Christ. After retiring from the nursing home, he moved to Ancora Village in Everett, where the Loges, along with Lyle and Florence Vanderpoel, were among the first tenants. While there, Ken became a missions consultant with the Evangelical Free Church Mission, coordinating missionary visits to the churches in the Pacific Northwest and Northern Mountain Districts, in addition to other responsibilities. He was a vital part of the ministries of missionaries around the world.

[Here, Bob Verme, missionary to Japan, spoke on Grandpa's legacy overseas.]

Ken had a vital part in the founding of the Missionary Construction Teams, which has worked on many projects worldwide. During this time, Marian started declining in health, and she lost her battle to cancer in 1989. He was praying with her, and when it came her time to pray, she didn’t say anything. She was too busy singing with the angels. I remember the next morning, when my parents both came in my room to wake me up, half a world away, to tell me my beloved grandma was gone. They had waited until morning to tell me so that I would be able to sleep. That same year, I lost both grandmas, but God would provide two young cousins for Tim, Tracy, Jeff and me, and new granddaughters for my grandpa. Annika and Darcy could not have come at a more perfect time.

Following the loss of Marian, Ken once again visited the Philippines, Hong Kong and Japan. He would come back and report to the churches in the US on the ministries in Asia.

In 1991, we returned to the US, and in 1993, Andrèa joined us to complete the group of grandchildren. Along with my parents and Tim and me, Grandpa went to Hong Kong in the summer of 1994 to teach English, and he would continue to go back for a few summers after that. I was particularly amused that, as he made a practice of walking regularly, those of us who were younger had trouble keeping up with Grandpa as he speed walked down the streets of Hong Kong. While there, he impacted many youth for Christ, and his legacy lives on around the world.

In the following years, he would revisit Europe, where he saw it completely rebuilt from the rubble he had previously seen at the end of the War. He also visited Turkey, Thailand and China, in addition to traveling to Norway to meet relatives in his mother country.

In 2012, his son-in-law Tom accompanied him to Washington, DC, where Ken was honored in the Lone Eagle Honor Flight for his service in the War. This organization brings veterans to see the memorial there in memory of their service around the world. The Mariners would later honor the veterans from the Honor Flight at Safeco Field.

In 2013, he was honored at Trinity Western University for his role in its founding by having a dormitory named after him.

By this time, he was slowing down, but his passion for reaching people for Christ continued unabated. Last May he came to Activate, United’s youth group, and shared about how at the age of 10, he went forward at a summer camp and gave his life to Christ. Just last month, he wrote a letter to each member of Activate urging them to come to Christ if they haven’t already. A week before his death, he prayed passionately for anyone who does not have Christ.

May 9, our family sat vigil in his room. His pain was evident, and he was ready to go. He could hardly talk. We said our good byes, and I asked him to give Grandma a big hug from me. When Annika told him she loved him, he said, “I love you.” Those were the last words I understood from him. In the afternoon his niece Nola arrived. He opened his eyes and acknowledged her. Then he was gone. He was four months short of his 100th birthday.

In previous years, we cousins knew that if Grandpa was leaving the family get-together, we had to hurry to say our good byes. Someone would yell, “Grandpa’s leaving!” and his grandchildren came running. This time, nobody needed to yell. But Grandpa left. I can’t wait to see him again.

In addition to his wife Marian and his son Robert, he is also preceded in death by his parents Swen and Lisa, and four younger brothers, Maynard, Melvin, Truman and Spencer. Ken Loge is survived by four daughters, Linda, Bonnie, Lois and Dori, as well as seven grandchildren – Tim, Tracy, Jeff, Steven, Annika, Darcy and Andrèa – and five great-grandchildren: Austin, Taylor, Autumn, Ava and Katlyn.

Grief

My grandpa passed away on Saturday, May 9. I wrote the following a week later on May 16.

Grief is a funny thing. I sat with my family at my grandpa's bedside last Saturday and watched him struggle to breathe, struggle to talk. All I could understand was when he told my cousin Annika, "I love you." We all said good bye, and I had trouble getting out my request that he give my grandma a big hug. My mom's cousin arrived, and he acknowledged her presence, and then was gone. I knew it was coming, and I hoped it was a false alarm. But no pulse. I was OK for a few minutes, but then the tears came back. We made calls to family and to church.

Tuesday, I returned to work. One of my coworkers is Colombian, and I like practicing my Spanish with her. I thought maybe I wouldn't have too much trouble if I told her in Spanish. I was wrong. Tears.

I expected to be emotional at the viewing and graveside service yesterday (Friday). It was deeply moving. I stood in front of my hero's casket and looked at him. I liked how he had a bit of a smirk (which he did not have when he died... I'm not sure if that happened naturally when they closed his mouth, or what), and I rejoiced that he was finally free of his pain. He's in glory with my grandma in the presence of Jesus. Our family friend Mark Halstrom spoke eloquently at the grave site next to the flag-draped coffin. A soldier played Taps on the bugle, and then the soldiers folded the flag and presented it to my mom. It was an amazing, moving ceremony. But I was not expecting the lack of tears at the graveside. I've felt a mixture of pain, relief and joy that he is no longer suffering.

Then this morning, as I was pulling out of the driveway, I drove over a snail. I had tried to save its life by kicking it out of the way before leaving, but it wouldn't budge. I tried to avoid it, but the tire rolled over it and smushed it. That was more traumatic than it would have otherwise been.

Then, this evening, after not crying (much) for a few days, I noticed my grandpa's World War II Veteran hat sitting on the couch. And lost it. The flag pin on it is askew. I was always fixing that when he wore it. I was slightly baffled how I could stand in front of his body and not cry, but then lose it when I noticed his hat.

Grandpa, I miss you! See you soon!

Paul Heaven

It was 1991. We had just gotten back to the US from the Philippines, with plans to return in a year. In previous furloughs, we had lived on Washington State's Olympic Peninsula, but this time we would be east of the Puget Sound, attending United Evangelical Free Church in Seattle.

I remember the first social gathering we attended. I met the Heavens and the Beckmans, two couples who would grow to be great friends, and both couples would become important in my life. Along with several other youth, we walked from church to the nearby Westernco Donuts (they have amazing apple fritters). Having just returned from the tropical Philippines, I was freezing. It was July. My 13-year-old mind was wondering how many degrees below 0 it was, while everyone else was wearing t-shirts and shorts.

At that time, we had weekly potlucks at church. Paul and Cathy Heaven had a great sense of humor, and they would bring angeled eggs to the potlucks on occasion. After all, if your name is Heaven, why would you think of bringing deviled eggs?

That summer, we had a church campout north of Seattle, and one day we went for a hike up Sauk Mountain. As we approached the trailhead from the parking lot, we encountered a sign-in sheet, and we signed in. We had a good laugh as the previous group had signed "The Heavenly Host"...and here we were with the Heavens! (When we got to the top, we got to introduce the Heavens to the Heavenly Host.) Sometime earlier, a minor landslide had taken out parts of the path up the hill, and consequently, parts of the switch-back path were narrower than the rest. With my fear of heights, I was terrified as we went over those parts. It was Paul who took my hand each time we reached a narrow part and got me across. I don't know how I would have made it up the hill without him there to help. That increased my respect for him, and when we got back home, I made some blackberry jam to thank him. (It was blackberry season, and as we didn't have blackberries in the Philippines, I made the most of it.)

Paul went out of his way to spend time with me, and he had a great ministry. At a time when I was known by my peers at school for not going to the cinema, he took me to my first cinematic movie. 101 Dalmatians was being re-released, and it was the first movie I ever saw in a regular theater.

As 1992 came along, they started expecting their first child. It was an exciting time, and near the end of the year, little Ethan was born. Cathy taught me how to hold him, and Ethan was the first baby I held properly. It was a very memorable day.

Though we ended up not returning to the Philippines as we were planning, Paul and Cathy and Ethan had to move on. We kept in touch off and on, and we heard about more kids joining their "Heavenly host." I have yet to meet their other kids (who are mostly grown by now), but maybe I will someday.

Years later, we got word that Paul had come down with cancer. They caught it, but it came back. After months of struggles, I got word this morning that my dear friend slipped into the presence of his Savior.

I am so grateful to Paul and Cathy for reaching out to me (literally at times) and loving a missionary kid who felt more at home in the Philippines. That they would take time to get to know me, just to hang out at times, and to help in other ways as well, spoke volumes. They were instrumental in my transition to 8th grade and high school in the US, and if not for them, I would not be who I am today. I only hope I can be as caring and helpful to others as they were to me.

Thank you, Paul. I look forward to seeing you in Heaven.

Now please excuse me while I go cry...

Cathy has done a great job of keeping people updated here. Check it out for more on these amazing people.

Joshua

Yesterday I participated in the Puget Sound Heart Walk. It is an annual event to raise money for research on heart disease and stroke. I walked in honor of three amazing people, and I thought it might be cool to share their stories. You can donate here.

Jill and Shane are amazing parents. They had two children already, and were now expecting their third. But when Joshua arrived, he only had half a heart. I have Jill's permission to share his story from her blog.

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I am a mother. I'll admit though, sometimes not a very good one. 

I get lazy (can we just say- one time I used a dryer sheet on my kids head rather than give him a bath?!), I raise my voice, and my house is hardly ever clean. But one thing is for sure: I love my children. 

Joshua is the 2nd youngest of my 4 children. He was born August 16, 2010. He has been the child, who in his short life, has stretched me in ways I never could imagine. (read through my blog from April 20, 2010 for more on this) We have spent his entire life, from pregnancy to birth and beyond, expecting the worst, but hoping for the best.

At 11 weeks gestation, I was diagnosed with a subchorionic hemorrhage. Basically, I was gushing blood (for almost 21 days straight), and doctors found out that there was a hemorrhage between the sac and uterus. It started off small, but within days grew and grew and grew. We were told that it was just a matter of time before Joshua would pass and I would miscarry. I was told that it would be miracle if he made it to 18 weeks.

Well, 18 weeks came and went, the bleeding continued, and I was sent to a specialist. The specialist noticed that Joshua's heart glowed on one of his ultrasounds, but told us not to worry. I did just as he told me. I was stressed enough with the hemorrhage, and didn't want to even think about a heart issue on top of it all. So we went home and continued to trust that God would take care of Joshua.

At our 18 week gender scan (which we had already found out Joshua was a boy at 14 weeks!), the tech couldn't get a good view of the left side of Joshua's heart. She told us that he was laying in a funny position and that it was nothing to worry about. Once again, I chose not to worry. My OB looked over the ultrasound and decided to send us to a fetal/pediatric cardiologist. 

At 22 weeks we made our way down to Indianapolis for our fetal ECHO. It was then that our lives were turned upside down. Joshua was diagnosed with Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome. 

Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome or HLHS is a Congenital Heart Defect (CHD). Basically, Joshua only has 1/2 of his heart. The left side is hypoplastic, which means that it has not developed or is underdeveloped. 

The treatment for HLHS is a set of 3 open heart surgeries to "reroute" his heart. The Norwood surgery is the first surgery and took place at 3 days old on August 19, 2010. The Glenn should take place around 6 months old, and the Fontan is typically be performed between 2 and 3 years of age. He also had a shunt revision due to the shunt being too large which resulted in poor oxygen profusion to his body. That took place September 27, 2010.

Joshua was a fighter, and survived all sorts of odds in his short little life. We are amazed at his beauty and how perfectly God has created him- Broken heart and all!

On Oct. 6, 2010, Joshua's purpose here on Earth had been fulfilled and God called him Home. Joshua left this world in my arms and went directly into the arms of Jesus for complete healing. 

Our journey through life without Joshua is now just beginning. Thank you for joining us as we learn to live, love, and laugh again.

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Posted Thursday, October 10, 2010:

This post is deeply DEEPLY personal. It is raw, and will probably be hard for some to read. 

I want to share with you my memories from the morning that Joshua died. The details from that morning are what haunt me at night. I am seeking counseling for PTSD, but it is good for me to get it out....to talk about it...to share it with others....if it doesn't make sense, I'm sorry. I'm not going to reread it or edit it.

Wed. Oct. 6, 2010

My dad was coming to spend the day with me. I was tired of sitting around the hospital by myself, and had decided that I could really use some company. My dad graciously accepted to come down and spend the day with me.

He called me at around 7:40am to tell me he was on his way. He also woke me up. You see, I had stayed late at the hospital the night before, and I had planned on sleeping in that morning. After my dad woke me up, I decided to quickly get out of bed, shower, and get over to the hospital to spend some quality time with my little man before my dad showed up.

I got to the hospital around 8:15. When I walked past the window to Joshua's room, I saw that he was kicking his feet, most likely crying. I entered his room and sure enough, he was crying. I quickly put my bags down, and went to his crib. I picked him up and said "Good Morning my sweet baby!!! How are you today? I've missed you." I gently kissed his head, and he immediately calmed down. I rocked him in my arms for a few minutes as I continued to snuggle him.

After being there for about 5 mintues or so, his O2 alarms started going off. They were in the low 60's (which for an HLHS baby a O2 sat that low is not completely uncommon.) I watched it and didn't panic, because it usually popped back up to the low 70's fairly quickly. After a few minutes of it being low, i finally started to worry. Joshua was calm, and I didn't want to put him down. After another minute, the nurse came in and decided to turn up his oxygen. He was up at 90%. We watched him for a few minutes, and his sats kept going lower and lower.

He was still calm, and was not blue. We messed with the pulse ox some (it was known to not pick up very well, and it was not correlating very well with the heart rate- so we thought maybe it was a bit of a malfunction). By the time we were done adjusting his pulse ox, his sats were in the 40's. That is when his heart rate started dropping. It quickly went from a healthy 148 bpm to 110, 105, 100, 90......

The nurse saw that and immediately yelled out Joshua's door for help. The doctor was in immediately and I laid him on his bed. By that time, his breathing was labored, and he was extremely dusky in color and he was looking up at me with those beautiful eyes that were screaming at me "Mommy help me...help me!!!" I frantically tried to get the mobile off of his crib to allow the doctor full view of Joshua while she was working on him. She immediately started chest compressions and told me to leave the room.

I stumbled out of the room and made it only about 2 feet out of the door before I fell to my knees and started begging God for mercy. Somehow I knew that this was it. Joshua's sweet life was coming to an end.

The nurses called for the crash cart and a ventilator. People rushed passed me as I kneeled on the floor praying crying out to God. Finally a nurse came and got me and took me to the quiet room. She sat and talked to me for  a minute, quickly explained everything that was going on, and promised that she would come back and keep me updated. She told me that they had already given Joshua 1 shot of epinephrin (totally butchered that spelling.) and that his heart was beating with the help of chest compressions. She told me to call Shane and that she would be right back.

I called Shane and told him what was going on. I called my mom. I texted facebook and blogger to get people praying. I did the only things that I could do- spread the word so that prayers could be going up. As I talked to Shane, I told him that I felt like we were going to have to choose when enough was enough. He told me I was wrong, but I knew. I knew this was the end. (Thankfully, we never had to make that choice, Joshua made it for us.)

The nurse came back in and told me they were still working on him. They were still doing chest compressions, and that things weren't looking good. He was hooked up to the vent. They had given him another 6 shots of epinephrin and they had just a tiny pulse. I will never forget the look on that nurse's face. I will never forget the next words that came out of her mouth. She said "Jill, you need to come in and hold your baby."

She led me out of the room and back to Joshua's room. The room was packed with more people than I could count and it looked like a war zone. There were syringes all over the place, machines, wires, boxes, tubes, wrappers everywhere. They pulled up my recliner next to his bed and gently lifted Joshua's limp blue body into my arms as I sat down. I held him, told him I loved him, and prayed for him. I asked Jesus to heal my sweet baby in His arms. They turned off the machines, the vent, the monitors and Joshua was gone at 8:58am.

My precious baby that I had loved and fought for. He was gone. I sat in stunned silence- knowing that I would never see his beautiful eyes look up at me again. I asked the nurses to take the vent out of his mouth and to disconnect the tubes and wires. I asked for them to take all of the equipment out of his room. It was just me and him for a few brief seconds.

I knew I had to call Shane. By that time, he was already on his way down. I will never forget our brief conversation. I told him that Joshua was gone. Shane cried out, pleading with God. "NO!!! NO!!! NO!!!!" I told him that I was holding him and that I would hold him until he got there. I told him that I loved him and to please drive safely. The pain was unbearable. If I could carry the pain for him, I would have in a second. Seeing him go through it, and dealing with the pain of Joshua's loss was enough to almost kill me.

By the time I hung up with Shane the chaplain had come in. She asked if I wanted to be alone, and I told her I didn't. The nurses asked if they could call anyone for me and I gave them a few people to call. I sat with my baby, lifeless in my arms, and told him how good God is no matter what. I said it over and over and over. "God is still good sweet Joshua, God is still good." I prayed, I cried, I worshipped, I rocked my sweet baby.

I know this is probably hard for you to read. It's something that I relive every night before I fall asleep. I can't get the images of him dying out of my head. The images and thoughts and feelings are enough to make physically sick.

Writing is so deeply personal and therapeutic for me, and the fact that I am able to write about it speaks volumes about my healing. Thank you for sharing this burden with me and for praying us through this.

Picture by Jill Haskins. Used with permission.

Dillon

Tomorrow I plan to participate in the Puget Sound Heart Walk. It is an annual event to raise money for research on heart disease and stroke. I will be walking in honor of three amazing people, and I thought it might be cool to share their stories. You can donate here.

I posted about Ethan. What I didn't mention in the previous post was that since Amy wrote Ethan's story, they lost Amy's husband and Ethan's father Dillon to a sudden heart attack. Here is Amy again on losing her rock and best friend.

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I will first state the obvious.  I am now the mommy of a FIVE YEAR OLD! Wow!! Ethan turned 5 on Tuesday and he could not be more excited!  Just last night, he had to show me that he didn't need his step stool to wash his hands in the guest bath anymore, "Because I'm 5 now." This morning at school, he said, "Pick me up.  Do I feel heavier? It's because I'm 5!"  I simply cannot believe he is 5.  He's more adorable than ever but I guess I will always mourn the stage of life he's leaving as I look to the one he's currently plowing into.

Where do I start with this other bit of surreal news?  Most of you know by now, but Ethan's dad and my best friend woke up in the arms of Jesus on October 29, 2013.  No, he had not been sick.  No, he hadn't complained of anything (other than some sinus junk).  We were preparing for our surprise trip to Disney World and Give Kids the World in November.  He had started a new job with Daisy Brand (you know, "Do a dollop of Daisy!") in September and was SO excited about us going back to Disney World (evenmoreso because we were keeping it a surprise!).  Sure, he wasn't able to work from home any more but he was getting a good raise and was elated to be able to provide for us to do more things.  He was always wanting more for us.  That's just who he was!

Anyway, the night of the 28th, we ate dinner and he took his usual 2 mile walk.  He went earlier than usual so I decided to put E down early so that Dillon and I could spend some quality time together because I knew that he was trying to get in bed earlier to catch up on some sleep.  I put E to bed while Dillon was in the shower and he came out, said, "Where's the critter?" and was pleasantly surprised he was in bed.  We watched some shows and he tried on some new shirts we'd bought for work and we matched up ties to go with them.  He took all the tags off, asked me if I would please wash them while E was in school the next day and if I could also find out if it was ok to wear brown shoes with navy pants.  Ha! Only Dillon.  He said he had been Googling about it but wasn't coming up with anything but he'd noticed some guys at work wearing brown shoes with their navy pants.  I was cracking up.  So funny!!  We talked about Disney and how Ethan was going to do the Jedi Training Academy (and he WAS going to do it, by golly!  Dillon was determined!) and then he said goodnight and went upstairs.  He had been sleeping up there to be closer to E's room, because he now was getting up so early for work and also because he is an aerobic sleeper- all over the place- bed to floor and back to bed and just...yeah.  Crazy!  I hate to say it, but Ethan is JUST like his Daddy!! Ha!!

In the middle of the night, Ethan came and got into bed with me.  Our bathroom door was still open (Dillon always closes it before he leaves for work).  Strange- strange that E was in bed with me and not Dillon b/c, obviously, it was still too early for him to have left.  My alarm went off at 7:50 (Dillon always left by 6am).  The door was still open but I didn't think too much of it.  I got up to get ready to take E to school and Ethan went to the kitchen to get his milk and juice.  He came back in to say, "Mommy, I think Daddy forgot to go to work today."  Sadly, he didn't forget.  He just never woke up.  :-(

My sweet son has had to endure more in his 5 years of life than most kids.  He is a champion and is so amazing.  He is the reason I am still living and breathing today.  When all I want to do is crawl in a hole, he is there, needing a hug, to go to school, play or whatever a 5 year old needs.  So many have said they are amazed by my strength and grace.  My reply?  I do it for him.  It's so hard.  We thought we had everything figured out.  The only question revolved around kindergarten next year.  We were mulling a couple options over (two have now been nullified due to our circumstances) and then also trying to figure out when I would return to work.  We had concluded that, due to the "school schedule" and Dillon no longer working from home, that I would stay home another year until we figured some more things out.  In 9 hours I went from a stay-at-home-mom to Mom and Dad and not quite sure what in the world to do.  God has a strange way of answering prayers....I didn't want this to be the way.  I still don't know what I'm going to do but I can say that the prayers of many are carrying me.  They are carrying us.

Ethan is amazing- I can't say that enough.  If you were at the visitation or on Facebook afterwards, you saw his handiwork as they allowed him to draw on Dillon's casket.  He asked matter-of-fact questions (Death is such a hard subject!) and I did my best (and I'm still trying) to give matter-of-fact answers.  We went to visit Dillon's grave yesterday at his request.  He doesn't ask when Daddy is coming back.  He asks, "When am I going to die?  When are you going to die?"  He knows his Dad is in Heaven.  God has put that peace into his heart, yet the thought of death just won't get out of his head and I hate it.  Last night, though- listen to the maturity in my sweet son:

"Mommy, are we going to die tonight?"

"Sweetie, if we die, where will we go?"

"Heaven."

"Yes, and who is in Heaven?"

"Daddy."

"Yes.  We will be with Daddy.  We will be happy again."

*he thinks a minute and gets teary again*

"Mommy, when you die, I'm going to call people."

"Um. Ok?"

"No, Mommy.  How do I call the people like you called for Daddy." (911)

"Oh, Ethan.  Let me show you.  What a brave and smart thing to want to know."

We then had a little instruction time on how to use the house phone and when it was appropriate to call for help.  Oh my goodness, y'all.  He is wise beyond his years and I couldn't be more proud of him.  What 5 year old has to spend his birthday at a holiday memorial service?  That kid.  That kid who was all, "Ok. Whatevs. Where are the cookies and how many can I get away with eating?"  Yeah.  He's a rock star.

I just want to thank each and every one of you who have offered prayers, food, money, love, and anything I have needed in this past month.  Yes, we did take our Disney trip, by the way.  It was November 11-19, much like last year. My oldest sister was able to stay and go with us and we wore her out (Dillon was planning on us going full-force and we did our best to honor that crazy man).  Ethan defeated Darth Vader and met all the characters he wanted to meet, he was sprinkled with some sweet Pixie Dust the first night we were there (poor Cast Members were always commenting on the button I was wearing "Celebrating Dillon" or the picture of Dillon we laminated and brought with us).  Ethan was treated to longer meet and greets with a few of his favorites and VIP seating for the Christmas Parade as well as s sweet stuffed Mickey from one of the extremely thoughtful CMs named Mark.  Another named Ben brought us cookies and hot chocolate while we waited for the parade.  For that night, it was nice to have people stop and honor a little boy who had lost so much.  It helped this mama's heart because all I wanted to do was stop and scream, "He lost his father!! Give him the world!" Ethan had a fantastic time.  FANTASTIC! Of course, memories from last year and what should have been flooded my heart a lot of the time but I was able to smile and watch the magic of Disney through my precious boy's eyes again and it was awesome.

The outreach from those around us has been nothing short of wonderful.  This weekend, barring any crazy ice storms that are predicted, Ethan will have his first "big" birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese.  Icing Smiles is providing the cake, another awesome friend is footing the bill for the party and another took the time to put together goody bags for his guests.  I have another friend who has made cookies for me to take to Ethan's class today- not just any cookies, but star shaped ones with LIGHT SABERS on them!

I love each and every one of you.  Please continue to pray for us. Know that your prayers are powerful and are sustaining us.  It's really really hard.  It was always the 3 of us (and Giggs).  We were a team.  I miss him SO much and being in this house without him hurts.  I'd give anything to have him back.  Anything.  One thing that is of comfort is, he didn't suffer. He simply went to sleep and awoke in the arms of Jesus and I have to say, what an amazing way to go.  It could have been while driving to or from work or driving E to soccer or.... God's mercy is good though I don't begin to understand why He had to take Dillon away from us so soon.  He was my rock, my provider, my best friend.  He was the BEST daddy in the world to Ethan.  He loved him SO much.  The awesome thing is, we both know how much he loved us.  I know there are some who aren't as fortunate.

Love fiercely.  Make sure you have a plan for the unthinkable (we didn't).  Keep up with your checkups (Dillon had only just begun in the past few years and having his heart checked was next on his list).  Make your moments count.

We love you,

Amy and Ethan

Picture by Amy Durham. Used with permission.

Ethan

Tomorrow I plan to participate in the Puget Sound Heart Walk. It is an annual event to raise money for research on heart disease and stroke. I will be walking in honor of three amazing people, and I thought it might be cool to share their stories. You can donate here.

I could tell you Ethan's story, but his mom puts it so much better. Here is Amy with the story of her precious son (used with permission).

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Ethan Kyle Durham was born on December 3, 2008 at 5:21 PM, weighing in at 7 lbs 10 oz and stretching out to 20 inches long.  After worrying for the past 39 weeks, we finally had our son and he was PERFECT!! The ride to that point was a bit bumpy and my induction ended up being a C-section but, even that was just a part of God's amazing plan. Unfortunately, I got sick and our hospital stay was extended.  That proved to be a big blessing as did the spur-of-the-moment pediatrician decision as I was undergoing my 2nd epidural.  Dillon and I couldn't remember the name of the one we had previously selected!  A nurse in the room and my OB both suggested someone and we went with that.

The day Ethan and I were to be released, our (yes, he is now OURS) pediatrician thought he heard a murmur in Ethan's heart.  Well, that prompted an echocardiogram and then eventual diagnosis of a condition called TGA or Transposition of the Great Arteries.  This defect (the aorta and pulmonary artery are on the wrong sides of the heart and have to be switched back) is life-threatening and, if we had taken Ethan home, who knows what might have happened!!

While it was rough to realize our baby boy would need open heart surgery, it is amazing to see how God saw us through to that point. Most defects of this nature are detected prior to the birth of the child (most as early as 20 weeks) but, since none of my doctors were looking for a defect (after all, he was born with all 4 chambers of his heart), it sort of slipped under the radar, even after having a level 2 sonogram done by a Perinatologist near the end of my pregnancy.

Most babies show signs at birth (like turning blue) but Ethan looked perfect because he had a few OTHER defects: holes in his heart (VSD &ASD) and his Ductus Arteriosus (allows blood to mix while in the womb) remained open (PDA). This ended up being another blessing because they acted as a bypass and kept his blood mixing (as a normal heart would do) which kept him in good shape until he could be operated on. Is God good or what?

Ethan had his surgery on December 12th, 2008 at Medical City Dallas Children's Hospital. Dr. Eric Mendeloff performed it and everything went off without a hitch. It is totally amazing how surgeons like him can operate on such delicate organs. There were parts of the surgery that were very critical but prayers held us all up and Ethan came through it like a champ. They had to leave his chest open because of precautionary reasons (swelling) and he was able to have that closed up on the 15th.  After a 4 week stay in the hospital, we were finally able to take our baby boy home!
So far, Ethan’s only setback has been some scar tissue buildup in the pulmonary artery and valve which was surgically addressed 4/15/09 by Dr. Mendeloff.   Because the pulmonary valve had to be patched, he will require another surgery to replace it (hopefully) years down the road.  He's also making his own growth chart, having struggled with feeding issues early on but he's hitting all his milestones and is full of "normal big boy" mischief!

Even though this "one-and-done" surgery ended up not being so, we are thankful for how far we've come, how strong our little man is, and how God has provided for us along the way.

Picture by Amy Durham. Used with permission.

The Pool of Bethesda

Long before our story begins, Moses stood in the presence of God on Mt. Sinai. When he came down from the mountain, he had two stone tablets with ten commandments on them. One of those commandments ordered the Israelites to “Remember the Sabbath Day to keep it holy.” God would later explain more about that command. They were not to do any work on the Sabbath day. For the Israelites, that was Saturday. For us, that’s usually Sunday. We’re supposed to take one day a week where we don’t do the work we do the rest of the week, and we are supposed to rest. As the years passed, the Israelites took this command very seriously. The priests eventually became known as the Pharisees, and they made up a bunch of laws to make sure that they obeyed the commandments from so long ago. They went way overboard on the whole lawmaking thing. In the case of the Sabbath commandment, they decided that not only would they not work, but they set up markers around the towns to show how far they were allowed to walk on the Sabbath. Walking any farther than that was considered work. Carrying anything was work. People cooked their meals the day before so they wouldn’t have to work by cooking on the Sabbath. It got pretty ridiculous.

The city of Jerusalem had a wall around it, and several gates. Near what they called the Sheep Gate, there was a pool called Bethesda, which means “house of mercy.” They didn’t have hospitals at the time, and this was one place people who were sick or wounded could come to get healed. Every once in a while, an angel would stir up the water, and it would start bubbling. The first person in the pool after that happened would be healed! So lots of people came there and wait for the water to start bubbling. All kinds of blind, lame, sick people were there hoping to be healed.

There was one man there who had been paralyzed for 38 years! With no wheelchair or anything, all he could do was lay on his mat and hope he would somehow be able to get into the water when it started bubbling. But of course, when you have trouble moving by yourself, it’s pretty hard to beat others to another place, even if it’s nearby. So he waited, hoping that someday he would get his turn.

So one day, during one of the Jewish festivals, a visitor to the pool got talking to the paralyzed man. As he told his story, he could tell that the new guy looked concerned. The visitor said, “So do you want to get better?”

So he explained how frustrated he was. Every time the water moved, he would try to get over there, but someone would always beat him! Of course he wanted to get better!

So the stranger said, “OK, pick up your mat and walk!”

Well, that wasn’t what the guy was expecting to hear! He might be able to help him into the water when it got stirred up the next time, but to say “Pick up your mat and walk”? He was even more surprised when he discovered he could actually do it! He sat up, picked up his mat, and walked! Whoa, this was awesome!

One problem. It was the Sabbath. As he left the pool, some Pharisees walked by and couldn’t believe their eyes. Here was a man who was *gasp* carrying his mat on the Sabbath! That was clearly against the law that the Pharisees had made up! They couldn’t have that! This guy was in trouble now!

But the man explained that some guy had told him to pick up his mat and walk.

“Who told you to do that?” they asked.

“I don’t know,” he replied. The healer was nowhere around any more, so he couldn’t ask, or even point out who it was.

Later, this guy was at the temple, and his healer found him and introduced himself. He also warned the man to stop sinning.

So now the man knew his healer’s name. He went to the Jewish leaders and said, “Jesus healed me!”

So the Pharisees marched over to Jesus and said, “You know the law! You know you aren’t allowed to heal people on the Sabbath!”

“Whoa now,” Jesus said. “My Father, God, is always working on the Sabbath. So I do too!” That got the Pharisees really angry. Not only was Jesus working on the Sabbath, but now – oh horror! He was claiming to be the Son of God! For a man to claim to be equal with God is blasphemy! That was a crime in their culture. Punishable by death. If Jesus’ claim hadn’t been true, He would have been guilty of blasphemy. But it was true, and He never once blasphemed God.

Blasphemy: claiming to be equal with God, cursing God, saying bad things about God

The Judge, the Widow and Justice

Jesus was a master storyteller. He often had just the story to make His lessons more real for the people He was teaching. One time He needed to teach His disciples about how important it is to keep praying and not give up.

He explained, “Once, there was a judge who lived in a town and ruled his courtroom with an iron gavel. He didn’t care about God, and he definitely didn’t care about what anyone in the town thought. He mainly just cared about himself.

“In the same town lived a widow. She had lost her husband some time earlier, and now she didn’t have anyone to protect her. She and her husband had loved each other, and he had always looked out for her. But now that he was gone, what could she do? She had an enemy who was bullying her, and she was having a terrible time. Her husband would have known what to do with the bully, but she couldn’t make the bullying stop on her own.

“So she went to the judge and pleaded, ‘Please bring this bully to justice! He’s being terribly cruel!’ But the judge refused to help. So she tried again. And again. And again. The judge kept refusing her pleas, but she was starting to get on his nerves. She asked for justice again. ‘Why won’t this woman leave me alone?!’ he wondered. She pleaded for justice another time. And another.

“Finally, the judge said, ‘All right, fine! I really don’t care about this woman or anyone else, but if she doesn’t get justice, she’ll never stop pestering me! I’ll do it to get her off my back!’ So the bully got what he deserved because the woman wouldn’t stop asking for justice.”

Then Jesus said, “Listen to what this judge who didn’t care about justice said. Now just think what God will do when people keep praying day and night, all the time. God does care about justice. If an unjust judge can be convinced to be just with enough persistence, surely a just God can answer prayers when people are persistent! He can give justice quickly. But do we have enough faith?”

Buoyant Faith

It was a long day. Crowds of people were following Jesus, and they were excited to learn what He would teach them! Jesus taught some great lessons, and pretty soon it was supper time. The people were getting hungry! They were pretty far out in the countryside, and the disciples suggested, “Hey Jesus, why don’t You dismiss everyone so they can go get something to eat?”

Jesus replied, “Nah, no need. You can feed them.”

“Um, Jesus?” they said, “Do you know how much that would cost?! There’s no way we could go get enough food to feed such a huge crowd!”

So Jesus answered, “What have you brought to eat?”

When they checked, they managed to get together five small loaves of bread and two fish. Hardly enough to feed a crowd that probably had more than 10,000 people in it! There were 5000 men in the crowd, but when you add in the women and children, that’s a lot of people! They had the people sit in groups on the grass.

Jesus took the measly supply of bread and fish and looked up to the sky. He thanked God for the food and broke the loaves of bread. Then He started breaking the bread. And breaking more. And more. He kept breaking bread and passing it around, and pretty soon the whole crowd had food! They ate enough that everyone was full! Not only that, but when everyone was done eating, the disciples picked up 12 basketfuls of leftover bread and fish!

When they were done gathering the leftovers, Jesus told the disciples to get in the boat and go to Bethsaida on the other side of the lake. After they left, Jesus told the crowds they could go home, and then He went to a hillside to pray. While He was praying, a storm started brewing. Later that night, Jesus looked out onto the lake, and He could see the boat, about in the middle. The waves were crazy wild, and Jesus could tell that the disciples were having a hard time with the oars, trying to stay on course and not be knocked upside-down by the wind and the water! So Jesus set out down the hill.

The disciples, meanwhile, were having a horrible time keeping the boat under control. It was almost dawn, and they still hadn’t heard from Jesus. It was all hands on deck as everyone was trying desperately to keep the boat afloat. Then they saw it. Someone was walking toward them…on the water! People don’t walk on water, so it couldn’t be a person. That left only one option. It must be a ghost! They were already terrified of the wind and the waves, and now here was a ghost coming toward them! What would it do when it got there? They panicked! Then they heard a familiar voice coming from the “ghost.” “WHOA, DUDES!” came the shout over the loud ruckus of the wind and waves. “IT’S JUST ME! DON’T FREAK OUT!” That was definitely Jesus’ voice, but how could He be walking on the water?

So Peter had an idea. “Lord, if it’s you,” he shouted, “tell me to come to You on the water!”

Jesus shouted, “Be my guest!”

So Peter got out of the boat and walked on the water! He was staring at Jesus, but then he started to realize what was happening. The wind was making the water go everywhere, and people can’t walk on water! Peter looked down at the water…and started to sink. He cried out, “LORD, HELP!!”

Jesus reached out and took Peter’s hand, and he said, “Oh come on, Peter, where’s your faith? Why did you doubt?”

As soon as Jesus and Peter climbed into the boat, the wind died down. Just like that. The disciples couldn’t believe it!

The sun was coming up as they reached the other side of the lake and let down anchor at Gennesaret. People in that area recognized Jesus and quickly got a crowd of people together who were sick and hurt. Wherever they went in the nearby villages, anyone who touched Jesus’ robe was healed.

© Steven Sauke
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