Today I want to honor the Earl family. On Wednesday morning at 3am, their Esther took her finally bow as a citizen of Earth and slipped her lovely self into the Heavens. Esther was 16, the veteran of a four year battle with metastasized papillary thyroid cancer.
I could try to come up with words that would be worthy enough to carry their pain; to cradle the accumulation of their suffering and loss. But it would be a vain exercise and I would be foolish to try.
Let me say, instead, that the Earl family have shone to me these last years. Their faith has taught me new levels of grace while their grace has taught me new levels of faith. I am so much richer for knowing them.
Esther's daddy writes:
We awake to an empty bed... and empty hearts. There is awfulness all around. We are sad. The weather is sad. Esther's cats are sad. But Esther liked this kind of day. She liked most everything. Esther liked. We would stay doubled over but she would have us rise and receive the grace that is a new day. And Esther loved you all so much! She loved us, too. Esther loved. Thank you to everyone near and far, known or unknown to us. You helped to carry our light and life, gave her hours of joy and purpose. She will miss you and we will miss her banter with you. We're not so up for calls and visits but appreciate your condolences, emails, texts and tweets... Nerdfighteria: you are awesome! Remember: Awesomeness trumps awfulness every time. Death is not the final word but the "next great adventure" as Dumbledore said so well. Esther was never an unhappy lady. She was always happily up for adventure! In our hearts and exploring heaven; that's where we'll find her now.
Our Star was a welcomer. Didn't matter who you were or what badge you did or didn't wear, you were welcome to sit and visit in person or by computer with her. Esther welcomed. Whoever you are and wherever you may be, we welcome you, too, to join us as we remember and celebrate her brief, but glorious life. By tomorrow we will connect you to her official obituary and a means whereby you can give in her memory if you'd like.
You can read more of the story here .
Peace upon your family, dear Earls.
Showing posts with label hope. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hope. Show all posts
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Undone
It's late and I need to get to bed but I can't sign off from this day quite yet. Ever since early this morning, my heart and mind have been heavy with the knowledge of senseless suffering.
You know, there is so much suffering in the world it can become an entity of its own: "Suffering." As strange as it seems, I can almost keep it out there some place when there's just one big impersonal name for it.
But right now, suffering has a single, piercing name. Suffering slips through my defenses when the big generic title is dropped and I hear the name Esther.
Our friends, Wayne and Lori, were colleagues of ours in Europe when, 4 years ago, their young Esther was diagnosed with metastasized papillary thyroid cancer. It's been a rough road since then; one that seems to be moving toward a final destination.
Today, I am equally undone by the uselessness of Esther's suffering (what is the point?) and the honesty of her father's shared journal entries. Wayne has permissioned me to share a couple of excerpts here...
29 April 2010
Esther is not doing well. Next week they will be putting in one or more shunts (tubes for draining fluid) into her right side. All the fluid, and more, that they drained out a week ago is back again. This is very likely a sign of tumor growth. She's uncomfortable and tired a lot and has asked for a hospital bed so she can sleep for longer stretches. Our health care team is looking at yet another experimental chemo and maybe something more. We are willing and Esther is game to keep fighting, so we're not giving up hope!
Still, suffering seems a useless business. I see no value in my daughter's pain. I know the standard answers ("redemptive" "result of sin" "an evil attack" "bigger purpose"). But the only reality is mystery and that sucks. Our faith remains but is changed; we have "put away childish things". We talk about death and dying and living and loving and we wait, and try to dream a little together each day. Esther knows more about these things than any 15 year-old should. The grief for us is like a tightening of the chest, a closing in, a sadness and an anger and mostly, a helplessness. I can't do anything to make my little girl's pain go away! And she's so perfect, to me.
I wish I could tell you more but those treasures are ours for now. Thank you for waiting with us.
Wayne
9 June 2010
Just last Friday evening Esther strolled (or rather was pushed by Angie in a wheelchair) around a local cemetery where she picked out her spot. Am I saying this? What parent helps their child choose a plot? This is not what we want. The joy and sadness of watching two sisters roll the grounds and simply be together was surreal. I cannot explain why hope sustains us even in the presence of innocence undone. Very few people in our culture talk about death and dying or if they do it's "embrace the light/suffering" or "fear not, heaven will reunite us with loved ones". I do not worry about death, at all, though I do not welcome Esther's dying. I do not care about joyous celebrations there; I want to give her away in marriage here! Heaven is Esther doing cartwheels again, her cloud of fire-white, brittle hair shining, waving at waiting earth.
Wayne
*************
How could I possible add any words to that?
Pray for Esther and her family. Their journal can be found here .
You know, there is so much suffering in the world it can become an entity of its own: "Suffering." As strange as it seems, I can almost keep it out there some place when there's just one big impersonal name for it.
But right now, suffering has a single, piercing name. Suffering slips through my defenses when the big generic title is dropped and I hear the name Esther.
Our friends, Wayne and Lori, were colleagues of ours in Europe when, 4 years ago, their young Esther was diagnosed with metastasized papillary thyroid cancer. It's been a rough road since then; one that seems to be moving toward a final destination.
Today, I am equally undone by the uselessness of Esther's suffering (what is the point?) and the honesty of her father's shared journal entries. Wayne has permissioned me to share a couple of excerpts here...
29 April 2010
Esther is not doing well. Next week they will be putting in one or more shunts (tubes for draining fluid) into her right side. All the fluid, and more, that they drained out a week ago is back again. This is very likely a sign of tumor growth. She's uncomfortable and tired a lot and has asked for a hospital bed so she can sleep for longer stretches. Our health care team is looking at yet another experimental chemo and maybe something more. We are willing and Esther is game to keep fighting, so we're not giving up hope!
Still, suffering seems a useless business. I see no value in my daughter's pain. I know the standard answers ("redemptive" "result of sin" "an evil attack" "bigger purpose"). But the only reality is mystery and that sucks. Our faith remains but is changed; we have "put away childish things". We talk about death and dying and living and loving and we wait, and try to dream a little together each day. Esther knows more about these things than any 15 year-old should. The grief for us is like a tightening of the chest, a closing in, a sadness and an anger and mostly, a helplessness. I can't do anything to make my little girl's pain go away! And she's so perfect, to me.
I wish I could tell you more but those treasures are ours for now. Thank you for waiting with us.
Wayne
9 June 2010
Just last Friday evening Esther strolled (or rather was pushed by Angie in a wheelchair) around a local cemetery where she picked out her spot. Am I saying this? What parent helps their child choose a plot? This is not what we want. The joy and sadness of watching two sisters roll the grounds and simply be together was surreal. I cannot explain why hope sustains us even in the presence of innocence undone. Very few people in our culture talk about death and dying or if they do it's "embrace the light/suffering" or "fear not, heaven will reunite us with loved ones". I do not worry about death, at all, though I do not welcome Esther's dying. I do not care about joyous celebrations there; I want to give her away in marriage here! Heaven is Esther doing cartwheels again, her cloud of fire-white, brittle hair shining, waving at waiting earth.
Wayne
*************
How could I possible add any words to that?
Pray for Esther and her family. Their journal can be found here .
Monday, April 13, 2009
in the garden
stone cold heart
hard-pressed
tomb-still
i stand here
knowing only
that they killed you
then stole my chance
to wrap you
in the sweetness
you deserve
a gardener's voice
breaks into the emptiness
i hear my answer
from across a thousand miles
of loneliness
mary
he says
mary
my dead heart
startles
and chokes
awake
this vacant place
that was my chest
rushes warmth
mary
a creator's power
invoking life
where there had been none
mary
and i knew you
i knew you
by the way
you said
my name
hard-pressed
tomb-still
i stand here
knowing only
that they killed you
then stole my chance
to wrap you
in the sweetness
you deserve
a gardener's voice
breaks into the emptiness
i hear my answer
from across a thousand miles
of loneliness
mary
he says
mary
my dead heart
startles
and chokes
awake
this vacant place
that was my chest
rushes warmth
mary
a creator's power
invoking life
where there had been none
mary
and i knew you
i knew you
by the way
you said
my name
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Christmas in Review (The God who Gives a Damn)
So much brokeness all around.
Can I begin to understand the new air raids between Israel and Palestine?
I can't.
My Tanzanian colleague, Philemon, lost his dad this morning. He was about 58 and riding his bicycle when an out-of-control taxi van hit and killed him.
If hurts me to think about their loss, how do they feel?
Last week, a depressed guy in LA dressed up as Santa and took a handgun to a party at his ex-in-laws and killed 9 people.
Shootings become "common" and that only compounds our sorrow.
The current economic disaster reveals a broken system and a habitual effort to satiate our souls with more.
Money and stuff. They don't actually heal our hearts.
The people of Zimbabwe are starving slowly. They are dying of cholera in the face of a leader who says there is nothing wrong.
We wait and wonder how long it can go on.
Creation is sick.. so sick. God made systems that heal themselves and honestly, she IS trying. The coral reef is showing healthy signs of life after the damage of the big tsunami. But, God bless her, she can't heal herself when we injure her continually and deeply.
Wars drag on. Rape is a weapon. It's not even rare anymore.
I feel like throwing up.
But, in this welling pain, I remember a stable. I remember a baby.
A friend of mine is a hospital chaplain. He recently stood with parents who had just lost their 25 year old daughter to a massive stroke. In the face of the loss, the mom wondered why she felt so torn up inside when it was a simple matter of the universe taking back her daughter. There was oneness. Why should it hurt?
She answered her own question. "Frankly," she said, "I don't think the universe gives a damn."
A baby was born to bridge the divide; to reach out through our pain and lead us home.
This Christmas, I am aware of much pain.
This Christmas, I am thankful for a baby who came to let me know that there is a way through it.
I'm thankful, this Christmas, for Hope. I'm thankful for Joy. I'm thankful for a redeeming, restoring, renewing, celebrating God.
These things are living gifts that come quietly from The God Who Gives a Damn.
Can I begin to understand the new air raids between Israel and Palestine?
I can't.
My Tanzanian colleague, Philemon, lost his dad this morning. He was about 58 and riding his bicycle when an out-of-control taxi van hit and killed him.
If hurts me to think about their loss, how do they feel?
Last week, a depressed guy in LA dressed up as Santa and took a handgun to a party at his ex-in-laws and killed 9 people.
Shootings become "common" and that only compounds our sorrow.
The current economic disaster reveals a broken system and a habitual effort to satiate our souls with more.
Money and stuff. They don't actually heal our hearts.
The people of Zimbabwe are starving slowly. They are dying of cholera in the face of a leader who says there is nothing wrong.
We wait and wonder how long it can go on.
Creation is sick.. so sick. God made systems that heal themselves and honestly, she IS trying. The coral reef is showing healthy signs of life after the damage of the big tsunami. But, God bless her, she can't heal herself when we injure her continually and deeply.
Wars drag on. Rape is a weapon. It's not even rare anymore.
I feel like throwing up.
But, in this welling pain, I remember a stable. I remember a baby.
A friend of mine is a hospital chaplain. He recently stood with parents who had just lost their 25 year old daughter to a massive stroke. In the face of the loss, the mom wondered why she felt so torn up inside when it was a simple matter of the universe taking back her daughter. There was oneness. Why should it hurt?
She answered her own question. "Frankly," she said, "I don't think the universe gives a damn."
A baby was born to bridge the divide; to reach out through our pain and lead us home.
This Christmas, I am aware of much pain.
This Christmas, I am thankful for a baby who came to let me know that there is a way through it.
I'm thankful, this Christmas, for Hope. I'm thankful for Joy. I'm thankful for a redeeming, restoring, renewing, celebrating God.
These things are living gifts that come quietly from The God Who Gives a Damn.
Sunday, December 02, 2007
Africa Wounded
Yesterday was World AIDS Day.
Yesterday a baby girl of 11 months old died in the Democratic Republic of Congo. She died of internal injuries because she had been raped the day before.
Everyone is saying that we still need better prevention (which I assume includes many, many things) and better treatment for AIDS, most especially in struggling countires like those that cover this continent.
They are right, of course.
But there is something much deeper and more basic needed. A gaping wound of violence needs to cleansed, closed and healed.
Standing on that healing, prevention and treatment will make headway. Or maybe they all come simultaneously, I don't know. But they won't come if one of them is not addressed.
I don't know how to help.
Prince of Peace, please come.
Monday, July 30, 2007
Hope Shines
On Sunday afternoon Tammy and I baptized Gabby, a member of our Summer '07 team. Gabrielle Hope grew up in The Netherlands, Portugal, England and the States. We thought it was pretty cool that ever since she was a little girl she had thought of being baptized in Africa some day. This was her first ever trip to Africa and she took the plunge in this beautiful mountain stream surrounded by friends who love her on the final day of her time here. She said her baptism symbolized her declaration, "No turning back." Hurrah!
(Photos: Jesse Borden)
Thursday, March 15, 2007
"Courage, Father, Give Us..."
On this journey I am much encouraged by Dustin Kensrue's song, "Weary Saints". Kensrue, the G.K.Chesterton reading front man of Thrice, has released an acoustic album called Please Come Home.
Many great songs but today I hold onto Weary Saints as one who is weary, though not very saint-like.
Favorite lines...
"For years we've fought the night with pale and ghostly flames. Some still dream of light, say the sun will rise again..."
"Let us not be faithless, you will meet our needs."
"Courage, Father, give us to do what must be done..."
And finally--
"For years you've met our thirst, still deserts we have roamed. But we'll be done with dust and dirt when the ocean calls us home. We'll fall into the arms of a cool and sweet embrace and under stars and waving palms we'll shed our sin like snakes..."
Shed our sin like snakes.... I look forward to that day.
Buy the song on iTunes, please. It's a keeper.
Many great songs but today I hold onto Weary Saints as one who is weary, though not very saint-like.
Favorite lines...
"For years we've fought the night with pale and ghostly flames. Some still dream of light, say the sun will rise again..."
"Let us not be faithless, you will meet our needs."
"Courage, Father, give us to do what must be done..."
And finally--
"For years you've met our thirst, still deserts we have roamed. But we'll be done with dust and dirt when the ocean calls us home. We'll fall into the arms of a cool and sweet embrace and under stars and waving palms we'll shed our sin like snakes..."
Shed our sin like snakes.... I look forward to that day.
Buy the song on iTunes, please. It's a keeper.
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