Now I know why the idea of the blogspot came to me last night. I am hearing from people who have read it and have been touched or who feel the need to reach out to me.
I can't explain what has happened tonight without going into entirely too much background; I will give you the shortened version. All day I have been wondering what I would do during the service that the people in Nebraska are having in Jason's honor. I didn't think it would be appropriate to just sit and watch television, but I didn't want to sit and cry either. I received a call on my caller ID from Patty Shackelford, one of my childhood friends. We grew up in the same church, attended the same Sunday School classes, VBS, camp--everything. Patty lives in Norman and is married to a man who has banking connections in Gordon, NE. He received word of Jason's death because someone at the bank in Gordon remembered that Patty's mother who died recently lived in Tecumseh, OK. These were the people whom Jason played golf with Saturday. Patty shared with me that they said he had had a wonderful day, they had gone to the Country Club and had dinner and had just stayed too long. Of course, Jason had to drive out to the ranch, and we think he fell asleep while driving.
All week I have wondered what his last day was like. Jason wasn't much of a golfer, but just like in everything he did, he had fun. When he called me on his way to the golf tournament, I jokingly asked, "You're on a team, right." He laughed and assured me that he was.
That is just one example of God moving in Jason's and my friends' hearts to remind me that He is who he says He is.
By the time Patty and I finished our lengthy conversation, the first one since high school, I felt like we had just reconnected after a few weeks' absence. We had visited during the time of the memorial in Gordon, and by the time I shared this experience with a few others on the phone, I felt pretty sure that the service was over. It really doesn't matter because I have just had another reminder that God will take care of me.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
If Only...
Ok, let's get this out there; we're all thinking the same thing. If only I had ....maybe this tragedy would not have happened. What could I have done to put Jason in another place so that he would not be alone on the road, so that he would not have fallen asleep as the officer told us was probably the cause of the crash.
The question is always asked, Why didn't God stop this from happening? He could have. Only He had the power to stop this tragedy, but he didn't. Again I don't know how solid my theology is here, but this is what I believe. From the moment Jason became Jason, God new exactly how many days he had. He did not "take" Jason from us, but He knew when Jason would enter this life and when he would leave. I also believe that God is grieving with me. He loves me; He knows my pain; He once experienced the death of His son, so God is grieved that sin entered this world and caused death, grief, and pain for his children.
Now I don't want you to think that's ok with me. I'm a little angry at God at the moment. I prayed for my son's safety daily. Why didn't he answer my prayer and keep Jason awake? I have so many questions for Him when I get there, but you know what, when I get there, I will not care about the answers because I will see where Jason has been for however many years between now and then, and I will know that Jason was the lucky one.
If you are following along with this blog, I want you to understand why I am writing it. If I don't write down my thoughts, I will drive my friends and family crazy. I'm a talker, and I will talk you to death. This week I have sat quietly and listened to my family. I realize that when I shut up, I learn things about my family and friends that I would not know otherwise. I am always the "take charge" person. This week I sat on the couch and listened to Jason's Aunt Cindy, my precious daughter Allison, and her cousins Janna, Erica, and Crystal plan Jason's funeral. I made a few executive decisions about music and location and speakers, but for the most part, Cindy and the girls were responsible for the beautiful tribute that was his service. They went through pictures that I couldn't look at, listened to music that I didn't want to hear, and with the exception of "pickin up hookers" in "My Heroes Have Always Been Cowboys," I think they made all the right choices. When Erica called me and told me of the line, I told her not to worry about it, I would always hear, "pickin' up lookers" in my head when I heard that song.
This is my thank you to them for "putting on their big girl panties" and doing the work that I could not do. I know that every decision they made was made with a love for Jason. I also thank Crystal and Erica for bringing their children out here for us to enjoy. The joy those children brought into this home will lighten the memory of the days following Jason's death. We know their kids a little better than we did before, and the kids got to play with some of the toys that Jason played with when he was their age. I was not saddened to see the Fisher-Price barn out. I was overjoyed to see the barn doors open and the animals scattered on the floor.
The question is always asked, Why didn't God stop this from happening? He could have. Only He had the power to stop this tragedy, but he didn't. Again I don't know how solid my theology is here, but this is what I believe. From the moment Jason became Jason, God new exactly how many days he had. He did not "take" Jason from us, but He knew when Jason would enter this life and when he would leave. I also believe that God is grieving with me. He loves me; He knows my pain; He once experienced the death of His son, so God is grieved that sin entered this world and caused death, grief, and pain for his children.
Now I don't want you to think that's ok with me. I'm a little angry at God at the moment. I prayed for my son's safety daily. Why didn't he answer my prayer and keep Jason awake? I have so many questions for Him when I get there, but you know what, when I get there, I will not care about the answers because I will see where Jason has been for however many years between now and then, and I will know that Jason was the lucky one.
If you are following along with this blog, I want you to understand why I am writing it. If I don't write down my thoughts, I will drive my friends and family crazy. I'm a talker, and I will talk you to death. This week I have sat quietly and listened to my family. I realize that when I shut up, I learn things about my family and friends that I would not know otherwise. I am always the "take charge" person. This week I sat on the couch and listened to Jason's Aunt Cindy, my precious daughter Allison, and her cousins Janna, Erica, and Crystal plan Jason's funeral. I made a few executive decisions about music and location and speakers, but for the most part, Cindy and the girls were responsible for the beautiful tribute that was his service. They went through pictures that I couldn't look at, listened to music that I didn't want to hear, and with the exception of "pickin up hookers" in "My Heroes Have Always Been Cowboys," I think they made all the right choices. When Erica called me and told me of the line, I told her not to worry about it, I would always hear, "pickin' up lookers" in my head when I heard that song.
This is my thank you to them for "putting on their big girl panties" and doing the work that I could not do. I know that every decision they made was made with a love for Jason. I also thank Crystal and Erica for bringing their children out here for us to enjoy. The joy those children brought into this home will lighten the memory of the days following Jason's death. We know their kids a little better than we did before, and the kids got to play with some of the toys that Jason played with when he was their age. I was not saddened to see the Fisher-Price barn out. I was overjoyed to see the barn doors open and the animals scattered on the floor.
Jason's Names
I didn't complete my thoughts about Jason's first day in heaven last night. I slept for three and a half hours, and woke up with a racing mind.
After dinner was over, the family sat around and caught up. Any of you who knew Jason knew that he was a visitor. He loved people. After they had sat around awhile, his Grandad stood, put on his dirty ball cap, and said, "Come on J-Boy, we've got work to do."
Twenty years ago Jason lost his best friend. He was thirteen when his Grandad died. I doubt if a day went by in those twenty years that he didn't think of Fred. He followed his Grandad into the profession of horse training, so you know he had questions that he knew Grandad had answers for.
When we named Jason, we really wanted a name that wouldn't be shortened. I was named Deborah but called Debbie. It wasn't really a problem, but I just wanted to name my children the name they would be called. It was obvious from the first that Jason was going to acquire multiple nicknames. The only person who consistently called him J-boy was his grandad. He became "Bud" to Tony and me; I also use this for Carson. That keeps me from "calling the roll" as my mom used to call it. His cousins Marty and Monty called him Huckle then shortened it to Huck--if you have ever seen a picture of him when he was a boy, you know his gaptoothed smile, freckles, and curly hair made him a "Huckleberry Finn" lookalike. That name has remained in our family. His college and current friends called him "Hump" or even worse "Humpy." Sunday night my dear friend Mary Willis called. Mary and Don lost their daughter Kimberly Rose when she was only fourteen years old. Mary warned me that many members of their family and several of Kim's friends had used either Kimberly or Rose to name their children. That is a great honor, but please use Jason or Craig. Don't call your kid "Humpy."
After dinner was over, the family sat around and caught up. Any of you who knew Jason knew that he was a visitor. He loved people. After they had sat around awhile, his Grandad stood, put on his dirty ball cap, and said, "Come on J-Boy, we've got work to do."
Twenty years ago Jason lost his best friend. He was thirteen when his Grandad died. I doubt if a day went by in those twenty years that he didn't think of Fred. He followed his Grandad into the profession of horse training, so you know he had questions that he knew Grandad had answers for.
When we named Jason, we really wanted a name that wouldn't be shortened. I was named Deborah but called Debbie. It wasn't really a problem, but I just wanted to name my children the name they would be called. It was obvious from the first that Jason was going to acquire multiple nicknames. The only person who consistently called him J-boy was his grandad. He became "Bud" to Tony and me; I also use this for Carson. That keeps me from "calling the roll" as my mom used to call it. His cousins Marty and Monty called him Huckle then shortened it to Huck--if you have ever seen a picture of him when he was a boy, you know his gaptoothed smile, freckles, and curly hair made him a "Huckleberry Finn" lookalike. That name has remained in our family. His college and current friends called him "Hump" or even worse "Humpy." Sunday night my dear friend Mary Willis called. Mary and Don lost their daughter Kimberly Rose when she was only fourteen years old. Mary warned me that many members of their family and several of Kim's friends had used either Kimberly or Rose to name their children. That is a great honor, but please use Jason or Craig. Don't call your kid "Humpy."
Where is Jason?
First and foremost I must say that Jason is in heaven, but what does that mean? I am a firm believer in Jesus Christ as Jason was. I am confident that I will see him again when I get there, but where is he now? What is he doing? I'm going to begin imagining what it is like for him. I believe he was escorted through the gate by the man who died for his sins. I don't think that man was wearing a white robe, sandals, looking like the pictures we have here. He might have been in Wrangler's and boots, who knows? When Jason went through the gate, he was met by his grandparents, aunts, uncles, family members who had died before him. I can imagine Grandad Slick meeting him for the first time, shaking his hand man-to-man. Grandad missed out on the sweet little boy we loved so much, but he will know him now as a man among men. He spent time with each person there, and they all told him how wonderful this place is. My mom probably had some chocolate chip cookies ready for him.
He died on a Saturday night, so his first day in heaven was Sunday--the day for a feast in our family. When Jason was little, we went to my parents every Sunday for dinner. I am imagining that they sat around a table that my dad and Tony's Uncle Bob built and had dinner together.
Phyllis fried chicken, my mom made pickled okra, Linda made one of her rich cheesecakes and they had vegetables grown in my dad's weedless garden. I don't remember ever eating Grandma Pearl's rolls, but I've heard about them--I'm pretty sure she made the rolls. The best thing is that no one had to work for this food--it was prepared with love, effortlessly. None of this is theology; it is just me thinking of the possibilities.
When I was a kid, I had this image of heaven--white clouds, blue skies, harps. I now see heaven as a place like earth without the sin and results of sin. I love the beauty of this earth; God created it. Why wouldn't he use the same elements in heaven? Just imagine--a thick green pasture that never needs to be mowed, no weeds, no sticktights--beautiful, lush trees that don't need trimming, flowers that grow naturally without constant nurturing. In that pasture there are horses, tame and broken, for our enjoyment. My pastor has mentioned that we may have more colors in heaven than we have here--interesting. I am going to quit now, let my mind relax, try to sleep.
He died on a Saturday night, so his first day in heaven was Sunday--the day for a feast in our family. When Jason was little, we went to my parents every Sunday for dinner. I am imagining that they sat around a table that my dad and Tony's Uncle Bob built and had dinner together.
Phyllis fried chicken, my mom made pickled okra, Linda made one of her rich cheesecakes and they had vegetables grown in my dad's weedless garden. I don't remember ever eating Grandma Pearl's rolls, but I've heard about them--I'm pretty sure she made the rolls. The best thing is that no one had to work for this food--it was prepared with love, effortlessly. None of this is theology; it is just me thinking of the possibilities.
When I was a kid, I had this image of heaven--white clouds, blue skies, harps. I now see heaven as a place like earth without the sin and results of sin. I love the beauty of this earth; God created it. Why wouldn't he use the same elements in heaven? Just imagine--a thick green pasture that never needs to be mowed, no weeds, no sticktights--beautiful, lush trees that don't need trimming, flowers that grow naturally without constant nurturing. In that pasture there are horses, tame and broken, for our enjoyment. My pastor has mentioned that we may have more colors in heaven than we have here--interesting. I am going to quit now, let my mind relax, try to sleep.
Remembering my Son
I called this blog Jason's Mom because the day I became his mom, my identity was clear. I had been Nate and Mabel's youngest, Linda, Phyllis and Nathan's baby sister, Tony's wife, but when I became Jason's mom, I became focused on my purpose in life. Later I would also bear the name of Allison's mom and Carson's mom, so I still have my purpose. I just don't have Jason. I have no idea why I am writing in this blog, but I am grieving and can't sleep. It is 2:21 A.M.; I've been lying here since 11:30--thinking, remembering, reading, but not sleeping, so now I will write. It is my therapy.
Jason was born March 18, 1975 in Shawnee, Oklahoma. The day of his birth was an event in our home town of Tecumseh. I had been in labor for awhile and wasn't progressing, so at 2:00 the doctor told me he would perform a c-section at 5:00. Word spread like wildfire, and my memory is clear of a sea of faces looking down the hall when I was being rolled into surgery. Honestly it was a little overwhelming. Too many people for what seemed a private event, but that would begin a life for a baby that grew into a man whose funeral was one of the largest our town has ever seen.
Jason died in a tragic one vehicle accident one week and two days ago in Gordon, Nebraska. We had almost a week of preparation before we could bury him because he was so far away when he died. Now the family has gone home, his brother and sister have gone back to Stillwater, his dad and I are trying to put our home back together, and I can't sleep.
Maybe if I write down some of my thoughts, I will find release from the sleeplessness. I may find it too hurtful and give it up. Who knows?
Jason was born March 18, 1975 in Shawnee, Oklahoma. The day of his birth was an event in our home town of Tecumseh. I had been in labor for awhile and wasn't progressing, so at 2:00 the doctor told me he would perform a c-section at 5:00. Word spread like wildfire, and my memory is clear of a sea of faces looking down the hall when I was being rolled into surgery. Honestly it was a little overwhelming. Too many people for what seemed a private event, but that would begin a life for a baby that grew into a man whose funeral was one of the largest our town has ever seen.
Jason died in a tragic one vehicle accident one week and two days ago in Gordon, Nebraska. We had almost a week of preparation before we could bury him because he was so far away when he died. Now the family has gone home, his brother and sister have gone back to Stillwater, his dad and I are trying to put our home back together, and I can't sleep.
Maybe if I write down some of my thoughts, I will find release from the sleeplessness. I may find it too hurtful and give it up. Who knows?
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