A Year Later

For the past year while going to work,  I have driven passed a trailer with writing on the side.  In black spray paint there are the words, "Never Give Up."

I don't know how long it's been there.  I only started noticing it after Josh died.  The first time it caught my eye, I stopped and thought, "Wow, Josh you are speaking right to me."  Today as I passed, it occurred to me that time was passing quickly.  For all I know, the trailer won't be there tomorrow, so I stopped and took a picture.  This is just one of my little Josh symbols over the past year.

Another one happened a couple of weeks ago when a young man was painting the posts on my front porch.  He had a hard story and was really looking for someone to talk to.  Six months earlier he had been in a serious accident where he died three different times.  It left him changed.  He found he was more emotional and had lost interest in the things that used to hold his attention.  As he shared, a black dragonfly buzzed around the paint brush and he shooed him away.  Finally it landed on his hand and as he continued to paint and talk, the dragonfly just sat there on his hand.  I smiled to myself thinking, "Hey Josh, you came to visit."  After several minutes, the dragonfly moved on.  Later the young man had stepped into my living room and the door was opened.  I invited him to sit down a minute and sure enough, that black dragonfly was diving at the ceiling fan.  It lighted on the back of my chair at my right shoulder.  It sat there, occasionally opening it's wings the whole time we chatted.  Once the young man went back to the porch to finish his work, I looked at the dragonfly and asked what he was doing.  It never flinched.  I noticed that at the end of each wing was a white spot.  I laughed and thought, "Now of all the beautiful iridescent colors of dragonflies, why did you have to come dressed in black?"   Then I remember, Josh wouldn't do the expected.  He enjoyed his own unique style.

Now don't lock me up yet!  I know that Josh's spirit isn't floating around in a black dragonfly somewhere.  I don't think he is out spray painting trailers for me either.  It's just this odd sense of peace I get when he comes to my mind during these times.  I'm sure his closest friends understand what I'm talking about.  Those odd little moments when he feels there with you.

There's no need to replay the whole year.  The world kept spinning.  Life kept happening.  Plans were still made, deadlines met, bills paid, and on and on.  We thought it would stop when Josh left, but it didn't.  Somehow it just kept moving forward.

I never got around to sending out thank you cards.   The amount of  love, cards and messages I received were  overwhelming and so appreciated. The food, the flowers, the support from strangers and co-workers was staggering. 

Josh's Life Celebration is probably one of my best memories.  Listening to all of those friends gathered to share Josh encounters.  It did my heart so good to hear all of the stories.

I can never thank the Allen's for having Josh live in their home as part of their family for his last year.  He loved them deeply.  That was the unique thing about Josh, he loved his friends deeply and he wasn't afraid to tell them.

I took this picture on June 24, 2017, a month before Josh died.  It looked  like trouble was coming.

But there are three people whose lives have become intertwined with mine forever since Josh died.
First there is my quiet friend Heather who was also at Bible study that Sunday evening.   Josh had gone back into the house and insisted that she take home some of the left over baked potatoes.  She wonders often what would have happened if she had been the first one to leave that evening.  Instead she was the second.  She came up on the accident within seconds of it happening not knowing it Josh.  She went to the front of car because she knew that Josh's car had the missing bumper.  She was shocked when she saw without a doubt, this was Josh's car.  From there she called Friar, our pastor whose home they had just left.  The evening was a blur for her and the details are hard to recall.  But she understands that now we have been knitted together forever.

Friar jumped in and did what pastors do.  He met with me, prayed with me.  He helped deflect the media and all of their questions.  He was available every time I called.  The Life Celebration, the funeral, he was there for it all. I had sent Friar a text while the coroner was still at the house the night of the accident. Once he arrived,  he explained that he had been at the crash site with Heather and our other friend, James.  They had been there since Heather called.  They stayed with Josh.  They stood and held hands and prayed for him in the midst of the chaos.  In some bittersweet way it gave me immediate peace knowing they had been there and Josh wasn't alone with strangers.

Then there was James.  He told me later that when the three of them were praying at the crash site, they were fervently praying for a miracle.  A life changing miracle where Josh would survive and God would glorified and it would be undeniable how he had been saved.  They boldly put their faith in action and begged God to do what he does. They lifted Josh up to the Father.

James later told me that the day after the crash, he was wondering why God had not answered their prayer.  He said he  saw an image of Josh ascending to meet Jesus, and Jesus telling Josh his friends wanted him back.  Josh remarked something like, "It's ok, we already talked about this."   A couple of hours before accident, they were discussing Jesus crying when he was at the tomb of his friend Lazarus.  Josh spoke up and said  maybe the reason Jesus had cried because the man had already been dead three days and Jesus knew that Lazarus was in a far better place than he would be in the world.

Through those first  days it never occurred to me that Friar, Heather or James would be struggling to process the events of  July 23, 2017.  I never considered that Heather may be too fragile to sing at Josh's funeral or that James  might not feel strong enough to sing at his life celebration and funeral. I don't recall giving anyone very much thought except for my family and myself.  Still, all three of them  stepped out of themselves to serve.   God gave them each a special measure of grace for the task at hand.

All of our Mosaic family sacrificed their grief to minister to our family.  They had been part of Josh's life since he was 9 years old.   Mosaic was important to Josh.  It's where he grew up; it's where he served; it's where he wanted to be on that particular Sunday evening.

I miss Josh so much, but God has caught each of my tears.  I can't understand the "why Josh?" questions  that descend on me at times, but God continues to hold me and assure me I'm not alone.

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