The Sonogram

I have a new article featured on BonBon Break about our first sonogram appointment and making room for love. You'll find it here.

Rare Bird God Wink

One of my closest friends and her husband founded a Christian school in New Jersey a few years ago. To illustrate just how close I mean when I say "closest friends," let's just say we were together during our Junior High youth group days a la mullets and short OP shorts, ardent bordering on obsessive devotion to the 1984 men's Olympic gymnastics team (Bart Conner!), were college roommates in the late 80's, and served as bridesmaids in each other's weddings.

After Jack's accident, my friend asked if she could share his story in a school chapel service. I said of course, as long as she wasn't trying to present Jack as perfect, but just a special kid who loved God and others. This spring she did just that. You could have heard a pin drop as shared about Jack's life and death. She read a Prayer of Thanksgiving he wrote, and many, many people were touched by what they heard.

But the neatest thing happened on her way into the service. She was praying and listening to Christian radio as she arrived at the school. A Chris Tomlin song called "I Will Rise" was playing. It deals with death and victory over the grave. Pretty fitting since she was going to talk about Jack's new life in heaven.

Here's the chorus:

And I will rise when He calls my name
No more sorrow, no more pain
I will rise on eagle's wings
Before my God fall on my knees
And rise, I will rise

Listen to the entire song here


As she pulled into the lot, she saw a sight she had never seen at the school before, even though she was there every day:

Yep, an eagle. A bald eagle. It was still there when she left.

Rare bird. Rare bird. Rare bird.

Love my kid. Love God's creativity in sending us comfort. Love you for caring about us.

Deep Thoughts by Jack Handey, I mean Jack and Margaret's Mom

I was spending time with a friend last week and we were talking about Jack's accident. I asked her why people think I have so much faith when I feel as if I have far less than I've ever had in my life. She responded, "It pours out of you, Anna. It's just there." Hmmm. Anger? I can see that pouring out of me right now. Disappointment? Got it. But faith? I'm not so sure.

I've been thinking about this a lot, because it is undeniable that Jack's death is having a profound spiritual effect on people by challenging them to look outside the comforts and conflicts of middle class suburban life and ask questions like, "Why did this happen?" "What does this mean to ME?" "When the body dies, is that IT?" "How does a family get through this?" "Why do bad things happen to good people?" and even, "Why do GOOD things happen to BAD people?" It is having this effect on me, too, just with a few more curse words thrown in.

Through this blog I've been honored to share many of the amazing signs of comfort from God that have followed Jack's death. Blog readers have graciously shared their own. These strange occurrences have again and again shown us that love does not die. That Jack's soul lives on. That what I said I believed...wow...is really true!

When I think of Jack's impact, and its spiritual emphasis, I think of prayer after prayer uttered in love and despair on our behalf since September, many from folks who wouldn't consider themselves to be "pray-ers" at all. Babies baptized. Young people looking for more than just transitory joy. Parents looking at their kids as gifts, not just as "gifted." People returning to church, or even going for the first time. Hurt, disillusioned souls being willing to open their hearts, just a little bit more, to a God they felt had let them down or deserted them. People receiving comfort at their own loved one's deaths with the promise of "something more." People wanting "what we have" even when we have lost so much.

When asked by someone why she had started attending church and reading the Bible, a dear friend of mine answered, "Why, Jack, of course!"

So... many, many people have felt drawn closer to God because of Jack, a boy who believed that, "Nothing is Impossible with God." For that I'm awestruck and grateful.

On the other hand, there are a lot of folks who have been thrust into a spiritual CRISIS over Jack's death. I get this too. It may sound so crazy, since terribly tragic and unfair things happen every second of every day and on a much larger scale, but "Why, God? Why Jack?" has been a common refrain.

My favorite Bible verse since I was a preteen has been, "I believe. Help my unbelief," and that is the tension or balance I have lived with every single day, although much more so since September 8th.

I think about how hard it is for me to take communion or to worship at church right now. For me, there's just one broken body I think about these days. Oh how broken. And not even broken to save the world.

So while there is hope and comfort and mystery and a peace that passes all understanding, there's also a profound sense of confusion, disappointment, and a need to realign what what we thought we believed, to what we believe. To hang in there in a life of faith, despite a lack of understanding and acceptance. Despite the trauma of going to a Memorial Day festival surrounded by every 7th and 8th grade boy in the tri-state area.

Closer to God/farther than ever. "I believe/ Help my unbelief." Comfort/despair.

Then thing is, I guess I CAN see what my friend sees, that even in this disappointment, there is some faith. My profound disappointment has an OBJECT-- an object big enough to handle my questions and my disappointment. A God who graciously gives me comfort even while withholding the answer to,"Why Jack?"

And here's the thing. I know I'm his mom saying this, but Jack matters. Not more than someone else. Not less. I am very fortunate for this blog, this forum, which not every bereaved parent has, in order to see the difference Jack makes, that each life makes.

And if in that mattering, or counting for something, we are driven to our knees in seeking God, or even driven to shaking our fists at him in anger, then that is an act of faith. And I think Jack would like that.

Jack's Life Verse

We've known for a long time that Jack's Life Verse was "For nothing is impossible with God." I don't how or when he chose it. Perhaps he picked it because it was short. I mean, when I was a kid I used to keep "Jesus Wept" at the ready in case I ever needed to recite a Bible verse. Oh so clever, I know.

Maybe he chose it because although reading and math and logic and grammar and art and so many things came incredibly easy for Jack, others took extra effort. He truly relied on God, and one of our greatest pleasures in recent years was seeing how far Jack had come. He had so much going for him.

Jack's fourth grade teacher gave us the image below, so now we can all have Jack's life verse in his own handwriting-- misspelling and all:

I've been thinking about what Jack's verse means to me today. I mean, when Jack was alive, it had a "You can do anything! Lean on God! Never give up!" vibe about it. And that's how he lived.

But now? Hmmm. If nothing is impossible with God, why didn't God save Jack? I mean I was only a few seconds too late. Surely he could have been found and revived! Surely he could have lived.

My friend told me how she is going to look at this verse, and it makes sense to me. Surviving without Jack is impossible. Truly. But we will survive, perhaps kicking and screaming on my part, but survive nonetheless. We must. In fact, in time we may even thrive. And we absolutely can't do it on our own. We need God for that. I'm not sure what that's going to look like, but I know it is true.

I hope you will enjoy having Jack's verse. Perhaps you can print it out for yourself when you need a little encouragement. That's what I plan to do.

A Different Kind of Bridge

A blog reader living in Mozambique sent a photo she took while driving in South Africa with her husband.

She felt compelled to capture this Bible verse , which Jack considered his "life verse," on the back of the truck in front of them, as she had just been thinking of Jack and our family.

It took her a while to get a non-blurry shot, and when she did, she was surprised and amazed to see what was visible in the frame of the photo.

As am I. Wow.




Thank you, friends, for loving us. For lifting us up all around the world. For not forgetting. For sharing these amazing experiences with us, so we can learn from them and share them with others. Thank you.