Friday, July 13, 2012

My Blique

I never thought I would start a blog.  I thoroughly enjoyed the movie Julie and Julia, I have visited The Pioneer Woman's website often, and I have looked at a few of my friends' blogs from time to time, but I never thought about officially following them or even making one myself.  I didn't even have a gmail account. 

Right after school got out this year, I flew to Florida for my friend Serena's wedding (click here to read about Serena), and I was sitting in the airport waiting for my flight home.  I had my iPad with me and was browsing Facebook.  My entrepreneurial friend, Lindsey, has had a blog for some time and had posted that she was going to try to start blogging every day.  Then our practical mutual friend, Amy, started a blog.   Then our other trendy mutual friend, Christine, jumped in.  I felt compelled to join the fun.  I had lots of time to think about blog topics, but I wasn't quite sure how to go about it.  The actual conversation between the four of us on June 22 is listed below with my running commentary in {brackets}. 

Suzanne:  Feeling the pressure to start a blog. :)  I have my topic all picked out...is this too much jumping on the bandwagon???  :)

Lindsey:  Haha, do it!!  What's your topic?

Christine:  It's like a blique--our own little blog clique!  :-)  What's your topic???  {Is she adorable or what?  Blique!  How cute is that?}

Suzanne:  How do I begin?  How do you set it up?  Startablog.com?

Amy:  Go to Gmail and set it up on Blogger.  Start a blog.   All the cool kids do it!  {So helpful!  Thanks, Amy!}

Suzanne:  Do you have to have a gmail account?  I'm sitting here at the airport...lots of time to think about my first dozen or so entries... :)
Lindsey

Amy:  I think so.  You can start one.  Just use it for the blog.

Suzanne:  So go to gmail, get an account, then go to Blogger?   Is it totally free? 

Lindsey:  Yep.  {I love Lindsey.  Brief and to the point.}

Amy:  Yes, totally free.   What would you write about?

Suzanne:  Okay ladies...you convinced me.  I won't share my topic until the first entry...my plane is pulling up now...and I just heard thunder.  Eeek!  Pray for a safe flight!  See you at Laurie's tomorrow.  (I hope!)  I have missed you all!   Raining now!   Eeek!   {I use "Eeeek" a whole lot more than I realized.  Eeek!}

Amy:  Have a safe flight!

Christine:  Can't wait to read that first entry--maybe your flight has free wi-fi  :-)  Stay safe!!!  {Such an encourager!}

Lindsey:  Me either!

Suzanne:  Thanks!  I wrote some notes to myself earlier this week when I was playing with the idea... :)  They should start boarding in 17 minutes.

Suzanne:   Shoot!  Just got a message my flight from Charlotte to Newport News is cancelled!  Eeek!

Amy:  Not good.

Christine:  Uh oh!  Rescheduled??

{At this time I had put away my iPad and raced to the check-in  counter to get booked on a different flight before all chaos ensued.  I didn't get home until almost nine hours later that night...which was about 4 hours later than I had planned.  Amy tells me I have the worst luck when flying.  She is right!}

 I love how supportive these ladies are. They are usually the first to read my new posts and always give encouraging comments. I just love 'em. They are the best!   

Laurie (we mentioned that we would meet up at her house in the conversation),
Yours Truly, Amy, and Christine


There's a Wocket in My Pocket

One of my favorite Dr. Suess books I remember from my childhood is the lesser known There's a Wocket in My Pocket.  It is the story of boy who talks about all the different creatures that live in his house.  It being a Dr. Suess book, everything rhymes with where it is located (i.e. the ZOWER in the SHOWER and the WOSET in the CLOSET).  You get the idea. 

Yes, I also have an affection for the more popular Fox in Sox, Green Eggs and Ham, One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish, and of course Hop on Pop.  Those were fan favorites in our household, and I distinctly remember sitting in my dad's lap while he read them to me.  I cherish those memories!


So what was the attraction to There's a Wocket in My Pocket?  The graphics were intriguing, and the rhymes were fun to say, but my favorite part was the last line of the book.  Despite all the crazy things inside the cupboards and under the rug, the boy declares, "That's the kind of house I live in. And I hope we never leave it."   I would savor those words every time I read them.


Like the boy in the book, I also hoped we would never leave the house we were currently living in, but I knew that, being an Air Force family,  a move was inevitable, so it became wishful thinking.  I had friends that grew up in the same house from the time they were born until the time they went to college, and I used to wonder what that would be like. 


Looking back I have to say I am grateful that every two or three years we were forced to clean out our closets and go through our toys and keep only what we truly wanted.  I despise being a pack-rat, but after living in a house for a few years, clutter becomes inevitable.  Now I have to force myself to go through my closet and get rid of clothes I don't wear, and other items I can do without. 


Although some took longer to get used to than others, I ended up loving every house, apartment, trailer, rental home, city, county, subdivision, village, temporary living quarters (TLQ), and base quarters (BLQ) we lived in.  The one thing that was not my favorite was when all five of us shared a hotel room for a few weeks in Kansas before the TLQ was available.  Eeeek!  Too close for comfort is an understatement!   


As difficult as they were, moves were always exciting on the other end.  Unpacking boxes was a little bit like Christmas.  There were times we'd find items in boxes that none of us ever remembered owning.  Strange, but true.    And there were times we would unpack a box and  wonder what on earth made us keep the items we found inside. 


Military moves forced my family to become really good at sorting.  We had to decide what we couldn't live without for a few months but that we needed right away when we first arrived.  That was the first shipment called Hold Baggage.  This would include dishes, linens, a lawn chair or two, etc...   Then we had to decide what we wanted to keep up until the end, but we wouldn't get for months later at the new location.  This second shipment was called Household Goods.  It was the bigger of the two shipments and included all the furniture.  The final category of items was what we carried with us in the suitcase...basically what we would wear for the next few months or so while we visited family before arriving at our new assignment.   This was called You Packed It, You Carry It


I loved seeing the familiar objects unpacked and put in their new places.  Soon the new house became more familiar as our items from the past filled the spaces.  It began to look more like a home rather than an empty shell.  And I would snuggle down under my blankets in my bed as I drifted off to sleep thinking, "This is the kind of house I live in.  And I hope we never leave it."



Wednesday, July 11, 2012

Grandpa DeWitt


James A. DeWitt
James A. DeWitt,  my grandpa, was a kind man.  He was born December 2, 1920, in Rose Hill, Iowa, right outside of Des Moines.  He was the oldest of four boys.  He was a hard worker. He attended school until the 8th grade, and then he quit so he could work and support his family. He loved to read, he was a genius at crossword puzzles, and he could fix anything. 

He and my grandma, Virginia, met on a blind date.  Grandpa's dad was a square dance caller, and they went dancing on that first date with another couple.  Apparently this was a big scandal in my grandma's household because they did not embrace dancing.  But my grandpa's quick smile and charm must have won them all over.  Grandma sure was blessed to have met the handsome and dashing Jim DeWitt.  She was the envy of all!

After they started dating, WWII broke out, and Grandpa joined the Army.  He was sent to the northern coast of Africa and later to Italy.  He never talked much about the war.  He told us that the soldiers would give their G.I. issued chocolate bars to the children in Italy because they were so hungry.  He also told the story about how he and his fellow soldiers were escaping from the enemy, and Grandpa was driving the jeep.  Someone else was in the back with the machine gun, and Grandpa drove down a huge flight of church steps and down an alley to safety.  His unit was one of the first to see Mussolini after he was executed by hanging by his own people.  Grandpa was in charge of reconnaissance meaning he and his men would scout out bridges and places for safety before the rest of the unit/company came through.

Grandpa loved being a soldier
He spent four years total overseas.  During that time, my grandma met with other women whose men were fighting for the cause.  They exchanged recipes and were a support group of sorts for each other.  It was here that she was given the recipe for Irish-American spaghetti, one of my very favorite dishes to this day. 

Grandpa received the purple heart for his service in WWII.  When he returned, he and Grandma were married and began their family.  They had three boys: my dad and his two brothers.  Grandpa worked for the next 10 or so years for a heating and cooling company.  Air conditioning was top technology back then, and I find that exciting to think he worked with it.  He had to find a new line of work due to health issues and wanting to earn more for his family, so he decided to re-enlist with the Army.  He then took his family all over the world including exciting places like France, Maine, Texas, Germany, Kentucky, and Hawaii.  Grandpa even had a remote tour in Greenland before being deployed to Vietnam during the Vietnam War.  Grandpa was an engineer in Vietnam; he never really talked about his time there.  I find it fitting that he was reconnaissance in WWII, scouting out and foraging, and that he worked in salvaging in Vietnam.  He was in charge of coming through after the troops had gone and doing clean-up and ensuring everything was safe.  This was him in life too.  He was the brave scout who went ahead making sure everything was secure, and he came behind and picked up the pieces and salvaged anything that could be saved. 


He cared about the men that were serving under him.  He had them over for dinner, especially those who were not near family or who were single.  He was like a father-figure to them giving them counsel and keeping them out of trouble.  At one time, one of Grandpa's G.I.'s had his fiancee fly to France so they could get married.  She intended to stay in a local hotel, but Grandma and Grandpa were concerned for a young girl staying alone in a strange country by herself, so they had her move in with them until the wedding.     
Grandpa during WWII

Grandpa was generous.  He wanted to make sure everyone had a good time.  He was a jokester.  Family get-togethers always guaranteed some kind of prank or joke being played.  When we all stayed at Aunt Grace's house in Moravia, Iowa, Grandpa and his brother-in-law, Uncle Jim, would short sheet beds.  Once Grandpa put cornflakes in Uncle Jim's bed.  Uncle Jim came to the top of the basement stairs with the sheet in hand yelling, "DeWitt!"  Of course everyone came running to see what the fuss was about and laughter soon followed!

Grandpa was a card shark.  He grew up playing cards and knew every card game there was.  He would play a game keeping track of everyone's cards while simultaneously playing a side game with his youngest son.   He was that good.    

He never met a stranger.  He made friends wherever we went...the restaurant, the hospital, the gas station.  He would just flash his winning smile and strike up a conversation.  When he walked into a room people couldn't help but turn and look at him.  People he knew would rise from their chairs to shake his hand or to say hello.  He had that gregarious DeWitt charm that seemed effortless. 

He and Grandma traveled the nation in a square dancing league.  Grandma would smile and say all the ladies wanted to dance with Grandpa and always remarked on how good he smelled.  Grandpa taught Grandma to dance.  Grandma was big into counting steps, but dancing just came naturally to Grandpa.  I would watch him move effortlessly on the dance floor smiling and chatting it up as he went along.  I loved telling everyone he was my grandpa. 

Grandpa could make anything.  He had a wood shop in his basement and was always collecting wood pieces to make picture frames or furniture.  When we lived in New Mexico, he built us a sandbox, a full-sized playhouse, and put up a tire swing.  He even built bunk beds.  My mother loved when he would come to visit!
Grandpa and Grandma w/ Dad

He had a green thumb.  Whatever he attempted to grow seemed to flourish.  His yard was full of flowers, in particular, his prize winning gladiolas.  When we went to visit in the summer, we could always count on fresh tomatoes right off the vine.  They were delicious!

Grandma and Grandpa had a huge back yard, and  Grandpa would set up croquet after the yard work was done.  We would spend the evenings playing, and Grandpa usually won.  He also loved jigsaw puzzles.  Everyone would work on it.  He even framed some and hung them in his home.  When they traveled, he would bring one with them and set it up on the dining room table.   I also love jigsaw puzzles!

Like me, he loved to snap pictures, and I was given his prized camera.    He had brown eyes, and I am proud to have the same.  He also had beautiful wavy hair that was always in place.  He always knew the right thing to say.  He was a friend to all.

Grandpa didn't criticize people.  If there was someone difficult, he would say he could live around them.  He loved babies and would get down on the floor and talk to them at eye level.  He called me Princess, and my awkward teenage self loved him for it!  He was hands-down my favorite male.  And if you know how crazy I am about my brother and dad, you know how much I loved my grandpa!

I wasn't raised to swear, but I loved driving in the car with Grandpa because he would use choice words to describe the other drivers.  I would sit in the back seat trying not to laugh out loud.  I knew he wasn't using the words in anger, so they were funny to me.  My favorite was piss ant.  I'm still not quite sure what it meant, but it still makes me giggle to think about.

Grandma was the letter writer, and I enjoyed writing letters to them and getting newsy letters of all their activities.  Towards the end, Grandpa would add a line or two.  I cherish those letters. 

Grandpa started smoking as a teenager.  During WWII, they rationed cigarettes to the soldiers, and Grandpa said they were helpful during night duty because they helped keep them awake.  Grandma did not like the smoke, so Grandpa only smoked outside.  He tried many times to quit smoking, but to no avail.  He also smoked a pipe, and I remember that smell as a pleasant one.    He finally did quit cigarettes and smoked only the pipe.  That's when he got cancer. 

Grandpa and his family
My dad was in the Air Force at that time, and we were just getting ready to move from Virginia to Turkey.  My dad had gone ahead of us, and we stayed to finish out the school year.  By the time we got to Turkey a few weeks later, my dad had to turn around and come back for Grandpa's surgery.  Grandpa was his cheerful, high spirited self making friends in the hospital, flirting with nurses, and encouraging other patients.  In fact one time his roommate complained of being cold in the middle of the night.  Grandpa disappeared for a little while and came back with a blanket for his new friend.  Everyone were so hopeful that he was going to pull through and beat the cancer!

We stayed two years in Turkey before moving to Kansas for three years.  During the next five years Grandpa lost a lot of weight.  He had completely quit smoking.  He changed his diet and took new medications.   He and Grandma volunteered at the local Red Cross.  Grandpa loved it.  Then he got sick again  towards the end of the fifth year after his first surgery.  It was right around Easter before Dad got new orders to Germany.  Grandma and Grandpa had come to visit us in Kansas.  Grandpa was in a lot of pain, but he refused to take pain meds because he didn't want to get addicted.  It was grueling to watch him suffer.  Two months later, Dad postponed the movers, and we all went out to visit Grandpa while he was in the hospital at Wright Patterson Air Force Base.  He was so brave.  

The last time I saw him he took my hand, looked me right in the eyes, and said, "I want you to know I love you very much."  I swallowed hard knowing this was going to be the last time I heard that.  I nodded and said, "I love you too, Grandpa."   Then I left the room and leaned against the wall as the tears came uncontrollably.  My dad found me and hugged me for the longest time.  He knew it was the last time too. 

We made the long drive home from Wright Patterson, Ohio, back to Kansas to meet the movers who were going to pack us up and send us on our way to Germany.  It was Father's Day.  When we got home, there was a message on the machine from my uncle saying Grandpa had died.  It was heart-wrenching.

Dad postponed the movers again, and we got back in the car to travel to Kentucky, where Grandma and Grandpa had retired, for the funeral.  Grandpa had a beautiful ceremony.  He was buried in his uniform, and an American flag was draped proudly over his coffin.  Soldiers folded the flag and presented it to Grandma thanking her for Grandpa's service to his country.  Three soldiers fired 7 shots giving him the honor of a 21 gun salute.   A lone bugle performed "Taps." 

We were all changed with the death of my grandpa.  His life affected so many.   There are often times I look around at how our family has grown with the addition of in-laws and grandkids and think to myself Grandpa would have loved this!  We still talk about Grandpa and whenever he is mentioned, Grandma's face lights up.   He was the love of her life. 

I am so thankful I knew Grandpa and have so many wonderful memories of him.  He captured my heart with his kindness, and I wouldn't trade that for anything.  He taught me the benefit of hard work, how a positive attitude can be a life-changing catalyst, and that a sense of humor goes a long way.    I thank God for placing Grandpa in my life.

Tuesday, July 3, 2012

Anne with an "e"

What is a kindred spirit?

Webster's New College Dictionary defines a kindred spirit as an "individual with the same beliefs, attitudes or feelings as oneself." The term's long cultural history and relevance in how we interact with others provides us insights into our desire for love and deep connections with people. Kindred spirits are identified as having an almost otherworldly attachment to each other, with bonds that are very difficult to break.

I first saw Anne of Green Gables in junior high.  It is a feel-good mini series about an orphan who steals the heart of everyone she meets when she is adopted by a brother and sister.  If you haven't seen it, I recommend it--especially if you have kids.  It's the kind of movie to watch when you are stuck at home sick and can't get out of bed.  I promise it will make you feel better no matter who you are or what kind of movies you like.


Anne is a mischievous girl with an active imagination and has survived the rigors of her lonely orphanage life by dreaming of  one day meeting a kindred spirit and having a bosom friend.


"Marilla," she demanded presently.  "Do you think that I shall ever have a bosom friend in Avonlea?"

"A--a what kind of friend?"

"A bosom friend--an intimate friend, you know--a really kindred spirit to whom I can confide my inmost soul.  I've dreamed of meeting her all my life.  I never really supposed I would, but so many of my loveliest dreams have come true all at once that perhaps this one will, too.  Do you think it's possible?"


Anne finally meets her bosom friend, Diana Barry, and many other kindred spirits in Avonlea including Matthew and Marilla Cuthbert who adopt her,  Miss Stacey, her teacher, and eventually even Gilbert Blythe, the annoying boy in school who called her "Carrots."  She comes to the realization that "kindred spirits are not so scarce as I used to think.  It's splendid to find out there are so many of them in the world."

To Anne's surprise and extreme delight, she finds Marilla thinks she is also a kindred spirit! 


Marilla looked at Anne and said, "I think you may be a kindred spirit after all."

Monday, July 2, 2012

Bruce


I first saw Bruce second semester of my freshman year at Trinity's library in Palos Heights, IL.  My roommate was friends with someone at his college and told her that he was transferring to our college after first semester.  She nudged me and said, "That's the guy my friend said is transferring here this semester.  She said she is sad to see him go."  I turned around and gave him a brief look before turning back to what I was looking for.  I didn't realize I had just set eyes on someone who would become one of my favorite people of all time. 

We officially met at an Intervarsity meeting a few weeks later.  My friend, Chris, and I were starting a seeker's Bible study, and the leaders wanted us to have core members who would commit to coming every week and support us.  Bruce and his friend, Jim, volunteered to come to our group.  We met once a week in East Hall's first floor lounge.  We were big on activities outside of the regular meeting night including movie nights, mini golf, and bowling. 


Bruce was smart, funny, intuitive, kind, and articulate.  He was honest and authentic with his thoughts and feelings.  He made everyone feel like they were his best friend.  Once he threw some firewood in the back of his truck and asked a bunch of us to go roast marshmellows in the forest preserve. He asked to roast my marshmellow for me, and I asked him not to burn it.  He roasted it perfectly.  He loved people, and he loved investing his life in middle school and high school students.    He knew how to encourage and wasn't afraid to mix with different circles of friends.  He was always looking for ways to help people.  He was really good at math.  He had messy handwriting.  His favorite color was orange.

My junior year at Trinity, we both served as Resident Assistants on campus.  I had the first floor of East Hall, and he had the first floor of South Hall.  He and another R.A. and good friend, Lou, kept me sane during our countless meetings and trainings with their crazy antics and great senses of humor.  We had to complete a grueling ropes course way up in the trees (I hate heights and being suspended from the tree with only a harness freaked me out!).   Everyone on staff (about 15 of us) stayed the weekend at a hotel for team building.  Most everyone hit the pool.  I opted for a hot bath in a clean tub until Bruce and Lou came banging on my door asking me to come and join everyone.  I reluctantly left my bath, but I really did enjoy the time with the other staff members.  Another time, they asked us to spend the weekend at a cabin on the lake.  It was an intense weekend with so many diverse personalities.  I do remember a lively game of charades that involved lots of laughter.  Bruce and I spent much of the evening chatting on the deck overlooking the water.   

My dear friend, Meg (click here to read about Meg), came to visit me for spring break one year, and I was excited to take her to church on Easter morning.  When we went to my car that morning, I discovered I had a flat tire!   Not many of my friends had cars or attended the same church, so I called Bruce, and he came right away to pick us up.  That was just like him to be so helpful without any hesitation.  One Christmas he gave me a sweet stuffed animal and a bag of lollipops to help with the 18 hour drive back to Virginia for the holidays.


I was involved in the PACE (Programmed Activities for Correctional Education) program all four years I was in college.  That meant I went to Cook County Jail and tutored inmates who were trying to get their G.E.D.'s.  That's right...I spent every Monday night in jail.  We piled into a 15 passenger van and drove down to the jail every week, and sometimes two or three times a week.  I drove, and that's how I learned to parallel park.  Yes.  You read that correctly. My first parallel parking experience post driver's education was in a 15 passenger van in Chicago.  That's how I roll.  But I digress.  I had asked Bruce and Lou to join me because I thought they would be naturals working with the students.  Their schedules finally opened up so they could come, and we were able to serve together.   I was right.  They were naturals.  And they made the 45 minute van ride to and from much more enjoyable. 

Bruce and I were in the same Political Science class.  The class was during spring semester when the weather started getting nice, and most of the baseball and soccer team was enrolled as well.  They sat in the back cracking jokes and cutting the mustard.  Our professor would get so frustrated with them and commented on how they turned in papers with poor grammar and loose content.  Bruce sat directly in front of me.  We both wanted to do well in class and formed a study group. He understood more about Poli Sci than I did, so I relied on him to help make things clearer.    
 
The summer before my senior year of college, Bruce called me while I was in Virginia and asked if I wanted to teach Sunday School with him at the church we both attended, Calvary Reformed, in Orland Park, IL.  I agreed, but I was nervous to do so because I preferred younger kids, and he wanted junior high.  We compromised and took the fifth grade class.  I still felt like that was too old, but it turned out great and prepared me to teach fifth grade after college---which I love!   Once we were having trouble finding a time to meet to go over our lesson, so he suggested I come to his house one Saturday morning and offered to make French toast.  Who can say no to that?  It was raining that morning, and I was running late by about 20 minutes.  I hate being late and almost called to cancel, but then decided not to.  He made the best French toast and served Caro syrup instead of regular syrup.  I'd never heard of doing that before, but it was good.  To this day, I can't help but think of him when I see French toast.  Our students adored Bruce. He respected them and showed sincere interest in each of their lives. Kids can always tell when you fake interest and when you are sincere.  They flocked to him.

Bruce was good about using visual aids to emphasize his points.  One of Bruce's lessons involved a coffee can, a Coke bottle, and some sand.  He took some sand and poured it over the Coke bottle.  Hardly any sand got in the opening because it was so narrow.  Then he poured it over the coffee can.  Almost all the sand ended up in the can because the opening was so large.  He said sometimes we are closed to God's will, and we aren't able to receive all the blessings He wants to give us because we force our own plans.  As a result we miss out on a lot of the opportunities God has for us.  He encouraged everyone to be more open like the coffee can so we can receive ALL that God has for us.  I loved that illustration and think about it still. 


Bruce loved to work with the youth at his church and went on to teach middle school math after college before going back to school to seminary.  He then became the beloved youth pastor at Lombard Bible Church.  He reminded them that life is not about us, but rather about God. 


A few years ago, Bruce and his brother, Mark, decided to go canoeing on the Fox River in Yorkville,  IL.   A kayaker was going out past the flags, and was headed towards a dangerous dam that was notorious for several fatalities.   Bruce and his brother selflessly waded out to try to stop the kayaker, and all three were sucked into the boil.  Sadly all three men perished.  Even in the final moments leading up to his death, Bruce portrayed a desire to help others.  Bruce had even spent the morning with his church renovating a local senior citizen's house.  He made every minute matter.

Bruce died over Memorial Day weekend.  It was a devastating blow.  I still have trouble wrapping my mind around it.  I was unable to attend the funeral because I was watching my sister's kids in Virginia while she and her husband were in St. Lucia celebrating their wedding anniversary.  A kind friend at Bruce's church sent me an audio of one of the memorial ceremonies, and I was in awe at the number of people who shared how Bruce had affected their lives and what a difference he made to each of them.  His youth group wore orange shirts with the words  It's not about me  printed on them. 

Grief is a funny thing.  It comes in waves.  Sometimes I can think about Bruce with a smile and be thankful that he had such a positive influence to everyone he knew.  Other times I am angry that his life ended so abruptly when he had so much more left to do.   This year his birthday fell on the same day as fifth grade graduation.  I was already emotional leading up to that day, and was pretty weepy throughout the day.  It surprises me that tears come easier now than they did initially.  Maybe that comes with age?    I can never predict when the memories will come and whether or not they will make me happy or tear my heart.  I can only imagine how his family must feel to have lost both men so tragically.


I'm not sure I grieved properly when I first heard about Bruce's death.  Is there a proper way to grieve?  The year Bruce died, I had a really rough class.  I felt like I had to keep it together so that I could maintain to the end of the year.  I felt like if I started to cry, I wouldn't be able to stop and that I might lose it at school.  Teachers do not have the luxury to break down in front of students or to step outside to get themselves together.   Sometimes it is easier to just keep it in rather than deal with painful emotions.  I just didn't talk about it.  That's probably not the healthiest way to handle grief.  I know that now.  I love hearing what others remember about my friend Bruce.


Although I would have liked to have had more time with Bruce here, I am grateful for the time I did know him, and that he is now with Jesus.  I know that many have made commitments to Jesus because of Bruce's death.   I am thankful for the lives he positively influenced, including my own.  One thing I know is how important it is to share what you think about a person while they are still here to hear it.  That's one of the reasons I started telling these stories.  I don't want to wait until the words fall on deaf ears.  I want people to know I appreciate them now. 

Don't keep it to yourself.  Write it down, or better yet, go find the person/people you love the most, and just say it out loud. 

In My Life I Love You More

It's a simple tune by a band that spans generations.  But it describes why I want to share my stories.





 "In My Life" by the Beatles

There are places I remember
All my life, though some have changed
Some forever not for better
Some have gone and some remain
All these places have their moments
With lovers and friends I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life I've loved them all

But of all these friends and lovers
There is no one compares with you
And these memories lose their meaning
When I think of love as something new
Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life I love you more

Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life I love you more
In my life I love you more