Why do you see guys take practice golf swings when they get bored? I know, I know it’s a “mental” game, but aren’t they all? I never see guys practicing pickoff moves or their five-step drop or boxing out for a rebound. I have never seen a dude come into a store and knock down a young sales clerk because she was trying to crash the boards. But when he takes his practice swing are we all supposed to hush and clap politely when he completes his follow through swinging his imaginary club at his imaginary ball placed on his imaginary tee with it then flying down his imaginary par 5 towards an imaginary green? I’m imagining it hit an imaginary tree and landed in the imaginary bunker where he going to score a very real triple bogey. Fundamentals of the game should be practiced while doing the game not while your significant other is trying on clothes. Something tells me all amatuer golfers are just waiting for his or her inner professional to be released. I doubt if I stood around in Target taking practice free kicks I will somehow make it to the MLS. So, uh, Tiger take a seat – she’ll be done in a minute.

– Ethan

Lord, I wanted to hold my little boy on my lap and tell him about You.
Since I can’t do that, will You hold him on Your lap and tell him about me?
~Anonymous

Noah would have been 2 months old yesterday. Amazing the time has gone that fast, and somehow it seems like a year ago since I held him. Alyssa and I have been letting balloons go to Noah almost daily now. We got the idea when I saw hundreds of balloons lifted into the air at a church function. I was imagining them making their way all the way up to Noah. A friend of mine bought me a helium tank so we can make our own balloons whenever we want. Alyssa asks,”Make a balloon for Noah?” So she picks out the color she wants, we blow it up, and we walk outside and say “Here you go Noah”, then let them go. Alyssa watches for a bit then forgets. I, on the other hand, stare into the sky and watch that balloon for as long as I can. And wonder if it could actually make it up to my Noah. Wonder if he looks down on us and joins in the fun. Wonder if he knows that I miss him so much. I ask Alyssa if Noah is happy in heaven and she says “Yeah!”. But you know how smart kids are, when I asked Blakely the same thing she said, “No.” I said, “Why is he not happy?” Blakely said, “He misses his sister.” Amazing that four year olds understand the pain too.

I miss you Noah.

This is a post to respond to, so remember that as you read.
Yesterday, I was talking to a good friend from college about his news of a son to be born in late October. So what is your first response to this news? Whats his name?
Noah, he said.
And I stopped. Its not often during the day you run across these moments, or maybe it is. Where you are reminded, something is just not right. And you say to yourself, “@#$(%” … or sometimes I find myself just blocking it out as hard as I can so you dont have to respond to it. Like tonight at church, watching the powerpoint during the songs, and seeing a Rainbow. Yeah, God sent a rainbow after Noah’s journey in the OT didn’t he, and it sure applies to Noah Whaley as well. I was also pondering the life of Ira, 2 months old yesterday. I love you little man.

Its so easy to just forget it, and block it, and pretend, and move-on…. isn’t it?
Tell me, whats different now for you? Have you found yourself coming across people or places or thoughts that remind of our precious Noah’s life?
Ok.. I’ll start, I put a visitor sticker in the front of my bible when i went up to see Noah one evening, May07,2005. One of the few times I spent alone with my nephew, reading scripture, praying, and just talking about my job and family. So everytime I open my bible, I’m reminded of his life. (Powerful statement isn’t it)

Tell me more…would you? How did Noah impact your life?

I am still here. Somehow. I can’t believe that it has been over a month since I have seen my boy’s face. The time has gone by fast, yet slow. But I am still here. That is all I can do is just be here. I wake up in the morning and decide to just get up, then just take a shower, then get Alyssa and the rest of the day goes on. Life just goes on. I lay in bed most every night and just think of Noah. I can remember everything from his birth to his last breath. And I am thankful that all of that stays in my memory. But things are getting harder I think. (Sorry mom) The first weeks were just trying to make it through, and now as reality sets in, day after day after day, it gets harder to believe. Every morning is a reminder that “damnit, this is my life isn’t it?” “This really happened to ME.”

I received a copy of Natalie Grant’s song, Held. It is a beautiful song that I am beginning to understand more and more each time I listen to it. Some of the words are:

Two months is, too little
They let him go
They had no sudden healing.
To think that providence
would take a child from his mother while she prays is appalling.

Who told us we’d be rescued?
What has changed and why should we be saved from nightmares?
We’re asking why this happens
to us who have died to live,
it’s unfair.

This is what it means to be held.
How it feels when the sacred is torn from your life
and you survive.
This is what it is to be loved,
and to know that the promise was
when everything fell we’d be held.

My point? The first dozen times I listened to the song, I focused on the first part of the song. My son is gone. You did not heal him. Why would you take him from a family who is praying? And this is how I feel, because the sacred in my life is gone. But as I continued to listen my heart was softened to the other message of this song. No where does it say that we would be rescued of pain, saved from nightmares. All He told us is that when everything fell apart, we would be held and loved. Does that make things better? No. But it reminds me that He is there, and if all He can do for me right now is hold me, then that is enough. It has to be because no one is giving me anything better. God only gives us what we can handle and I am handling it. The tears come alot easier for me now than they used to, but I am still here.

“How are you doing?”, and countless variations, is a question I don’t think anybody honestly answers. How many times at church, or work, or hundreds of other places does has a fake answer come from my lips? I’m good, doin’ fine, great, never better, wonderful, fantastic, great, marvelous, fabulous, very good, excellent, terrific. I won’t go so far as to call them lies and most of the time I probably honestly believe it. But how different would our fellowship be if we all answered that question openly. I’m struggling, hurting, confused, embarrased, aching, anguished, in other words I’m grieving.

It’s a question I honestly can’t answer when someone asks. My mind swirls with thoughts of each emotion until he or she starts talking in a need to break the akward silence.

I’m struggling with Laura’s question of God’s hand slipping. I had no idea that was even possible; thanks for a whole new realm of possibilities to contemplate.

I’m hurting physically with a possible stomach ulcer. So much for the summer of George.

I’m confused on so many levels of theology, philosophy, and sociology. How do I respond to so many people?

I’m embarrased for feeling so down.

I’m aching watching my wife struggle with so many of her own questions.

I’m anguished over the heart-ache so many people have experienced.

But I also know that all of that is okay, and these emotions are real. They make me feel alive. They make me want to lean on God. They make me want to pray. They make me want sit in silence and just listen.

Father God only you know, even more that I do, all of my hurts and emotions. Take them Father. For I fear somedays they might overwhelm me. I need your strength and your will to carry me through. Help me Father to listen for your voice in the noise and rejoice that you have heard me. – Ethan

Noah would have been 1 month old today. I feel a strong urge to use “should have been” but it doesn’t feel right. It’s difficult to rationalize the difference because my heart wants to the know latter rather than the former. My heart longs to have him here but my brain keeps reminding he’s not. And that’s the fun part of everyday; emotional vs rational. C.S Lewis says it better than I do. “Part of every misery is, so to speak, the misery’s shadow or reflection: the fact that you don’t merely suffer but have to keep on thinking about the fact that you suffer. I not only live each endless day in grief, but live each day thinking about living each day in grief.” The heart continually reminding the mind that you hurt, you feel loss. And then one day the heart says I am okay, things are good, but all of sudden the mind says why? Are you sure? And the heart starts all over again. Every day for the nine days of his life and every day since.

And there certainly isn’t any escaping it. Everybody in my house knows, everybody at church knows, went back to work last week and they all knew. Went to San Antonio the week before, I’d swear they all knew. Like the giant elephant in the corner of room that nobody wants to talk about for fear the elephant might ramapage and trample me. So what if it tramples me? It’s trampled me in public, behind closed doors, at quiet times, in the busiest times, in the car, at the dinner table. Too many reminders and people to forget so easily. And I certainly don’t want to forget.

My friend WG once remarked about James 1:2-4 that he doesn’t get it. “Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.” He felt like the trials of his life were not deep or intense enough to warrant perseverance, and at the time I felt the same about mine. Today I feel I get it but as I re-read that verse I find another part I don’t like; trials, as in plural. Isn’t one enough? And how many is enough? How much perseverance does one need? I guess you need just enough and God will determine how much in time. So everyday is a mini trial to make it through with just the right amout of testing. Some days the heart wins and other days the mind.

I love Jesus Christ. Sometimes it just feels good to say it. I know that he loves me and that feels even better.

Today is my anniversary. I have been married six years to a woman I absolutely adore. It is strange to lay here in the hall with her during a thunderstorm so large the power went out and probably won’t be back on for sometime. The reason we are laying in the hall is I am deathly afraid of tornadoes and I want to be able to grab Alyssa quickly if needed. I hope it never comes to that. Situations like this always remind me of God’s awesome power and the amazing majesty he has created.

I always knew Julie would be a good mom. The kind that would lay outside her child’s door all night long in case he or she woke up scared. The kind of mom that would hold a child all night until the fever broke or the vomiting stopped. The kind of mom that would endure pain or hardship while singing praises to God. In fact it is one of the traits that makes me attracted to her. Her unwavering commitment to her family, her children, and to me, but never putting us before God.

When I repeated our vows six years ago, and I don’t remember exactly what I said, the line for better or worse was probably there. Its part of many vows but probably one line that people don’t pay alot of attention to. The in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer are pretty easy to grasp. But for better or worse is so broad, so ambiguous I suspect I didn’t give it a second thought. But today I get it. The broad category of worse contains many things: divorce, death of family members, loss of a job, and lots of others. Worse is the season where neither of you know what to say. Confused about how you feel it is easier to muddle through the day and hope that tomorrow brings about better. And if better doesn’t come tomorrow that’s okay, because I know that it will come some day.

There are hundreds of reasons I love my wife, but today I know this; my worse days are always better because she is with me. Even in the midst of our grief there times to laugh and talk, times to steal a kiss, times to share a meal, and times to enjoy being parents. I could not have imagined the blessings God would bestow upon me at my wedding day. The blessings of both my children and the blessing of my wife of faith are just the beginning. God is so good to me.

Today didn’t feel like a day of celebration but everyday has been a walk with God made richer, fuller and better because of my wife. For better or worse I love you Jugi. – Ethan

I went for a jog the other day. Exercise always makes me feel better, but I also need to be in shape if we want the summer soccer season to go better than this spring. Since we moved to our new home, I have been walking down a side walk that goes through our neighborhood. It is hard even 3 weeks later to walk down that path. A path I had walked down so many times while pregnant with Noah. Walking to either get in shape for delivery or walking to encourage delivery. Seems ironic to me now. Why would I want that day to come sooner? And of course I had expecting to now be walking this sidewalk with our new double stroller with Alyssa showing all the things she recognizes to her new brother. Whatever I had expected, there I was running down the sidewalk alone, consciously trying to think of nothing. But as I got to the end of the path, I realized the weird analogy that I was in. The sidewalk ends at one point. I was running and see this end in sight. I see that my current path is coming to an end, and I must make a decision. Where am I going? What do I do when I get to this end? The other interesting thing was the cars on the street. I wondered what they were thinking. “Where is this girl going?” “Doesn’t she see the path ends?” Why did I care what they were thinking? All of this is a nice analogy of my life right now. On this path of life that clearly has an end, that I am just not recognizing yet. That end has actually already come, Noah’s death. I have reached the dead-end and must decide where to go from here. And I am concerned about the people watching me run. Concerned with how they think I am handling this. Am I going to right way? Am I living in the past or am I moving on too soon?

A wise woman has informed me that grief is different for everyone. There are stages and there are things that can be expected, but I have to find my own way through this. And the only way that is right, is my way. It is okay for me to think about Noah everyday, and it is okay if I try to find normal. (Which of course does not exist anymore. What was normal, will never again be normal. So I must find out what normal is now without Noah.) It is okay if I want to talk to Alyssa about her brother. It is okay if I want to make memorials for Noah or hang his picture on the wall. It is okay if I need to protect myself from things or people that may cause me more saddness, like new babies or pregnant women. And it is okay if I just don’t want to smile today. The hardest part about this is that the only thing that is normal or okay is what I make it. It would be easier if I could just read a book and someone tell me how to get through this. But I have to live each day and see what works for me that day. And that is where I am now.

Grief tonight is my soccer team going 0-8 for the season with a goal differential of 56-10. That hurts. I certainly could have had a better season. Oh well.

Another picture of grief is my two-year-old not sleeping during nap time the last two days. You can just picture the grief on Julie’s face; I didn’t have to. I’m guessing I am part of the problem. I’ve been off work for most of the month of May which means almost everyday is Saturday. And Saturday’s are great when they only occur once a week, but now Julie and I are little bit confused. Alyssa might be as well.

That is the hardest part of all this. What the heck is normal supposed to look like? Is normal merely a daily routine that you get up and complete without incident or real exertion? Is it trying to go back to the way things were before he Noah was born? I am not sure that is even possible or desired. I know I have been changed by this experience, but it pains me to think that we might slide right back into the old routine before Noah was born. Noah’s life should mean more to me. It should change my life. Things should be different in some profound way, and somehow it doesn’t really feel like it. But why not? I know that I have tendency to be short sighted and like most people do not want to for God to reveal his full plan. I think time will only reveal the path that God has laid before us.

So what happens in the meantime when I go back to work and things return to “normal”? Julie and I anticipated for so long the change that a new baby would bring. New adventures, new opportunities to learn and teach. Someone else for Alyssa to play with. I think Julie and I both agree that life with siblings leads to a richer and fuller experience, and we are saddened for Alyssa. We hurt when she says she misses Noah, and that she loves him. Such a sweet child that it breaks my heart that she might have to wait for those experiences. Oh how I long for the new normal we anticipated.

So maybe normal will just have to reshape itself everyday. Lord we are clay and you are potter. Maybe God will continue to mold us back to normal. I suppose that’s what I really want… to feel normal. Lord, today I need to believe your words from Ephesians 1:11-12 “In him we were also chosen, having been predestined according to the plan of him who works out everything in conformity with the purpose of his will, in order that we, who were the first to hope in Christ, might be for the praise of his glory.” – Ethan

Read Ethan’s blog below first.

I love the fact the Ethan thinks of me as his “Senior Editor.” He wants to make sure that anything he types, especially late at night, is okay and sounds right. Usually I am just pointing out sentences that are missing a verb, but tonight I told him that his thought process seemed to end rather quickly in his “To Blog” post. He said that is just where he ended, he didn’t know what else to say. That of course led me to want to leave a thought … or two.

Why did Ethan not have an emotional reaction? What would mine have been? We have discussed several times how blessed we are that God took Noah so quickly. Yes, I would have loved one more day, one more week with him, but it would have only made letting him go harder. I belive that God used Noah on this Earth long enough to serve his purpose, and then he quickly called him home. He was here long enough for all of us to know him, love him, but short enough to let him go. I still feel a peace, a peace that surpasses ALL understanding. Why does seeing a tiny baby not make me fall apart? It is the peace of God. However, seeing older boys hits me a little harder. As we were leaving the house today, I saw a young boy, maybe 7, riding his bike. I told Ethan, THAT is hard for me to see. I saw Noah as a baby, I even held him, but I will never see him as a toddler or grow up and learn to ride his bike. That reminds me more of what I have lost, and what I will never have with Noah.

A week later, I have realized that few of you probably know the miracle of Noah’s death. Is that an oxymoron? To prove that God took him home quickly when his work was done, let me tell you a few details. The 6 days that Noah spent at TX Children’s, he seemed to only get better. His lungs were clearing up, eventually breathing on his own, and increasing in movements. He had always had a steady heartbeat and high oxygenation (87-100 out of 100). Meaning his body was getting enough oxygen. Even Tuesday before he died, he seemed stable. His heartrate started to rise from 140s up to 170s, but nothing anyone was too worried about. Wednesday was a different story. It started with a phone call saying he seemed to be getting an infection and they wanted to put him on some antibotics, and it all ended 8 hours later. When I went to see Noah about noon, I could immediately tell something was wrong. He was pale, the beds of his nails blue (from lack of oxygen) and his stats were just off. Heartbeat up to 180s, oxygenation in the 80s. The nurses had him on antibotics for an infection, which turned out to be pneumonia, and had put him back on a respirator at full throddle. He went from a respirator to help him breath to a ventilator to completely breathe for him. We were basically waiting for Ethan to get to the hospital to make our final decision about his life. The miraculous part of his death was how quickly it came. His doctor had said he assumed that Noah would eventually die of something similar to this, pneumonia, but not until much later – 6 months or even 2 or 3 years. His nurse that day told me, when she came in that morning she never would have thought he would die that day. All signs to me that God just took him home.

I think that the details of his life make letting him go easier. He was always God’s child on a loan to me. This world was not his home, and he just passed through quicker than most of us. And I WILL see him again one day. 2 Peter says that with the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day. That comforts me because what may seem like a thousand years to me on Earth is only a day with the Lord, and only a day for Noah. He will only wait one short day for his Mommy to hold him again in Heaven. And if a thousand years is only a day, imagine how many “days” there will be for me to hold him. Right now I am just practicing patience.