I had a strange thought awhile back. I don’t remember what my dad’s hands looked like. I am not sure why this bothers me so much. Maybe it is because I spend so much time looking at mine. They are pretty much in front of me all day long and I wonder if mine look like his. I wonder if we use them the same way in conversation. I wonder if we had the same mannerisms and gestures. It is hard to believe it has been almost 10 years since he died.
I think about his hands because they are so important to who you are. They are how he earned his living. They are how he carried us and comforted us. They are a big part of how he communicated with us. I think back now to all those times he made me hold his hand in public even as a young teenager. I don’t know if it was to help keep him steady (editor’s note: my dad was handicapped) or some other reason. I know he once told me he he was proud to hold my hand and that in other countries the customs were quite different about holding hands. Dad never traveled to other countries so I don’t know if he just made that part up to hold on as long as he could. Maybe now I know why.
I think maybe deep down Dad always knew alot more about what was happening to him then he let on. He and mom sheltered us kids as long as possible. How I long to just hold his hand now. The similarities between his passing and Noah’s passing are interesting. Both going home “before their time”, of course the next logical question is when is the right time? Both having severe brain problems, both dying of respiratory failure. Both with the middle name Allen. I look back now and wonder what was God preparing me for? And just like Mom and Dad sheltered me what has my heavenly Father sheltered me from?
I think of Abraham’s hands wrapped around the knife, white knuckled with sweat dripping off his brow. Isaac, not laughing, bound montionless waiting to see what’s going to happen. But the angel of the Lord cried out Abraham! I can’t imagine how quickly Abraham’s hands worked to undo the bindings on Isaac. (I also wonder as Isaac grew older if he remembers the incident, what a story for family reunions.) But why did he save Abraham’s son and not mine? Did I not show enough faith? Were my hands not raised to heaven?
But alas I realize that my faith is not that of Abraham’s. I doubt I would have been able to place Noah on the altar. I wouldn’t have been able to unsheath the knife. I wouldn’t have been able to willingly sacrifice my son and how I yearn to have him here. Maybe God did it for me and it reminds me of the sacrifice of his Son. How his hands were pierced. The hands with the power to heal, the power to cast out, the hands with the power to calm the waves. How his hands have lifted me up! I am thankful that the master carpenter was a able to build the bridge between me and God. Now I just have walk across it each day and take hold of his hand. – Ethan
I think all of us with children have imagined the Isaac scenario and how we would have responded. I guess my most realistic answer would be grabbing my boys and running away to “hide” from God. I can’t yet fathom that kind of faith. I hope to understand it better each day.
We are still praying for your family daily.
With love,
lisa c
What beautiful words,son. As I wipe the tears away, I am so full of thanksgiving for the man of faith you are. You have had 2 major losses now and yet you still look to God to hold you and lead you through. Anytime we think of things happening to our children our hearts are broken and we would do anything to save them. What a God we have who feels the same towards us. He did the ultimate — He sent Jesus to die so we could be saved and live (as the song says) E-T-E-R-A-N-A-L-L-Y!
We still hurt with you and will be as close as a phone call.
I love you, Ethan.
Nana
Dear Ethan,
I have to tell you how impressed I am with your penmanship. You are definitely being touched by divine intervention. The stoic tendencies of grief are evolving into insight and emotional healing. Reflections of ones past are the gateway into the future. I once attended a preschool graduation where a college professor provided an interesting commencement speech. The question was posed: Whose hands is it in? The analogies provided were amusing and innocently profound. Some analogies he provided were as follows: A piano in the hands of an average man is nothing more than a curious instrument. A piano in the hands of Mozart is an extension of his soul as the dulcet tones flow freely from his fingertips and touch anyone who is listening. A basketball in the hands of an average man is nothing more than a ball that provides amusement. A basketball in the hands of Michael Jordan with 3 seconds left in the championship game is a spectacle to watch as he works his humanly magical talents to make the winning shot. A loaf of bread and a fish in the hands of an average man is nothing more than a fish sandwich. A loaf of bread and a fish in the hands of Jesus can feed the multitudes. It all depends on whose hands is it in. It is fascinating to witness your journey as you are clearly in the Lord’s hands. You my friend are not an average man. You are extremely special and have been graced with the ability to reach beyond yourself. In the wake of the tragic passing of your son, you are awakening to the reality of what is in your hands. Your hands will enable you to provide for, protect and nurture your family and loved ones through your faith in God’s love, mercy and compassion. Your family needs you more than ever before. Remain steadfast in your faith, as He will show you the way through His will. Know that Noah is at peace in the Lord’s loving hands in the Kingdom of Heaven.
God Bless you and your beautiful family.
Sincerely,
JAG (Coach Jorge – In case you were wondering who JAG is.)
Thankfully, it is not our faith that determines what action God will take. Just a couple of months prior to Noah, I attended the Women of Faith conference. Their topic: Faith. One woman talked about a crisis she had gone through with the loss of a child. She had thought, “if only I had contacted some big ‘faithers’ to pray, then God would have listened and healed my childâ€. As I sat at TCH, after I had contacted everyone I knew to pray, I thought that surely someone else, someone with a bigger profile of faith, could make a difference. Silly, I had just sat at the conference listening to a woman tell us that God does not answer prayers in accordance to how much “faith†we think we have. He does not put our prayers at the back of the line to answer those with a large profile of faith. We all are “big faithers†we are just at different stages.
I learned that faith was not determined upon what happened to sweet Noah, but what we believed could happen. Now, we rely on our faith to get us to the next step. Kelly once told me how angry she was when we were at a service where people were giving testimonies. She said “Everyone wants to hear the story of how a person was faithful to God and was healed. No one wants to hear the story of how I was faithful to God, and he took Emma anyway. My testimony is that I am still here. That I can still call on God.†That although her life seemed shattered, her faith would help carry her through. And that is where I am, my faith still stands. I am confused. I am heartbroken. And I shall gather my mustard seed of faith and move to the next step.
AE
Ethan, I too had recognized the similarities between Noah and Dad and didn’t have the courage to voice them (or the strength). You’ve lifted a huge burden from my shoulders. My first impulse was to tell you that God had lost a son, too. And that Noah has also lost time with his father. But, how it hurts to say those things out loud.
It’s all different, I know, but I’ve greived many times for my lost sons and daughters. I was given the chance to choose a better life for my babies. It was good for me to know (or at least I thought I knew) that you and Adam would be spared the same grief, the same loss. I am heartbroken for you. To the tiniest degree, I know the pain you and Julie have endured.
You are so brave.
God prepared us all for a different trial when we lost Dad. I see that now. I wish it was all different sometimes. But it’s the path God has chosen for us and I am glad. I love you so much. I’m always here for you.
Ali
Thanks Ali.