MY FRIEND, KEN

     After I graduated from college, I didn't get a full-time job right away. So, I decided I would become a substitute teacher for the area schools. My first job was as a sub for the WHS Ag teacher while he was with the FFA members at the Walla Walla Fair. Although I didn't really get to know the other teachers in the building those first days of my teaching career, I heard about the other teachers from the kids--Mrs. Henderson, Mr. Branson, Mr. Warehime, Miss Fanciullo, Mr. Hagerman, Mr. Scott, Mr. White--however, it was Mr. Beasley who really stuck in my mind. He was a no nonsense type of teacher--not much misbehavior in his room. However, as the school year progressed I was fortunate enough to find a job mid-year at Prescott Jr./Sr. High School. One of my new colleagues took me under her wing and I got to know her family. One time when I was at her house, her daughter started talking about a change in Mr. Beasley. The once no nonsense teacher allowed a little nonsense into the classroom. The kids roasted marshmallows over the open flame during class (remember Ken taught science...there was a reason to have access to an open flame). There was a change in Mr. Beasley. And that change was known by the name of Ms. Nolan.
     I feel very honored that I've known Ken and Pam for a long time. I was around during their dating, their wedding, the birth of their children, the joy of parenthood, and the sadness of losing parents. They supported their boys in all their endeavors, but I know they gathered great joy being a part of the "Road Crew" for the Troublemakers or helping with Salt and Light events. As the boys grew older, they made new memories as they went on great adventures with them. With Pam and the boys, Ken had a life he adored.
     Tonight Ken Beasley died. My colleague, my boss, my cheerleader, my friend. I will never get to talk to him again about the boys. I will never get to hear the pride in his voice as he shared all the great things Pam has accomplished. I will never get to tell him how much he meant to me.
     Ken will be remembered as a great teacher--many will share their stories and how he touched and changed lives. Ken will be remembered as a great friend--so many stories and adventures. Ken will be remembered as a great principal--innovator and problem solver. Ken will be remembered as a great father and a wonderful husband. Ken Beasley will be remembered.
     Today, on the day he would have turned twenty-four years old, Andrew got to welcome Austin's dad to Heaven. I've had this image in my mind ever since I heard the news. My dear boy welcoming Ken to the neighborhood. Give my boy a hug, dear Ken. 

Tonight, my heart has a new crack in it,
Andrew's Mom

What Would He Be Like Today?

     I spent today with a sweet, kind 24 year old young man. Like my Andrew, he was also born in February of 1994 at St. Mary's Medical Center. His parents and Bill and I were in the same childbirth class. Traveling to our workshop, we talked about school and kids and basketball. He is currently coaching our middle school boys and we reminisced about his high school career. As a senior he played the DHS Bulldogs for their senior night and he remembered one of the players wearing his cousin's jersey number in his memory. He marveled at how well this young man played--"His cousin was sure with him that night."
    His memory of that night brought my own memories of that night rushing back to me. Memories of sadness at missing Andrew. Memories of pride as his teammates would meet their goal of playing in the state basketball tournament. Memories of young boys growing into young men. As I spent the day with these memories as my companion, I kept asking myself, "What would he be like today?"
     I have asked myself that question many times during the past seven years. However, having this young man with me invited that question to nag me all day. How much taller would he have grown? What would he be doing to make a living? Would he have joined the military? Would he be living in this area or far away? How would he have his hair cut? Would he have long hair or be like his brothers with their shaved heads? I have so many questions. What? How? Where? And of course, the constant...why?
    For my sisters in grief, they understand that the upcoming holidays are never easy. There is always one member of our family missing. Today that overwhelming missing of my son came a couple weeks early. I am really glad we have a long weekend so I can spend some quiet time thinking and gathering the strength I need to survive the next few months. As I begin to celebrate happy times with family and friends, my questions will be put back into their place. However, whenever I see young men of a certain age, I remember a smiling sixteen year old and wonder-- what would he be like today?

~Andrew's Mom

Lost Children

     The last 48 hours have been full of ups and downs. We got to see a new baby--definitely an UP! We lost a pot of flowers at Andrew's grave--a down. We found a heartwarming note and beautiful flowers that had been given in the spirit of love at Andrew's grave--another up. Reliving these emotions started me thinking of children--lost and found.
     We lost our child. Why he did what he did will never be revealed to us in this life. Taking care of Andrew's final resting place gives Bill and me peace. We both have regrets that we have to live with, but visiting and tending to his grave, everyday, helps us deal with our feelings. This is why we felt violated when we discovered Andrew's hanging pot was no longer there. We literally stared at the spot for a bit until we realized it was gone. Who would want a flower pot with no flowers? The deer and the heat had taken a toll on it, so we were lovingly trying to bring it back to its original beauty. Who would do this? In my mind I thought--a lost child.
     For some of you reading this, you are my sisters and brothers in loss. You know what it is like to bury a child. You know what it is like for people to look at you and say (or at least give you the look), "Get over it." You never get over it--you just learn to live through it. However, what about the parent who has lost a child, but he/she still lives?
     Some parents lose children in a variety of ways. Sometimes the loss is to drugs or alcohol. Sometimes the loss is to a mental illness. Sometimes the loss is to crime. Sometimes you don't know why, but you just have a child who no longer chooses to be in your life. In the Pullman-Moscow area this week three families lost sons. Those three families will deal with loss, albeit for different reasons. Lost children.
     In Luke, chapter 15, one can read about the return of the prodigal son. Prodigal was a Wordly Wise word in one of my classes this year. In my mind, prodigal meant one who returns home after an absence. But prodigal really means "spending money or resources freely; wasteful extravagant."  I realized I forgot the first part of this story--Dad gives son his share of the inheritance and son goes and wastes it, then he returns home after everything is gone. The important part of the story is how the father treats the son when he returns home. The father welcomes him back. It's the old, "I may not like what you do or have done, but you are my son and I love you." That kind of unconditional love may be difficult for some, but at least you have the opportunity to embrace your lost child and welcome him or her home. Your lost child has been found.
     I hope you never lose a child--figuratively or literally. So as I begin to plan for the next school year I ask myself what can I do to help children feel a part--a part of something important? What can I do to make a child feel worth in this complicated world? What can I do to make a child see his/her genius? What I can I do to make a child feel valued?
     These are my goals. I want to change the mindset in my class--for my students and for me. I want to change my attitude towards the things I see as needing a change in my life. I want to change the downs to ups. I want to help my students find success and find a path for themselves. Let's all help kids find a way, even when they feel lost.
     

Grandpa and Andrew

     Thursday, January 29, 2015 started very early.  We had a lot of laughs--when Dad was nervous he was a "one liner" machine.  We also laughed at our navigational challenges of being in a big hospital. And oh the stories we can tell you about elevator rides. How could a day start with such hope, end in utter broken heartedness?
     Our father was 80 years old.  He worked hard all of his life and his body was worn out, especially his heart.  We had no idea it was as weak as it was.  How could the heart of our father be weak?  The doctor had great faith that this surgery, if successful, would give him a few more years to be with us.  After the surgery, we learned Dad had done wonderfully, but the doctor also shared that it was a miracle he did that well because his body was so fragile.  Dr. Vish gave us frank words when we asked a prognosis.  "Minute by minute; day by day" was what he gave as his answer. We decided to go back to our hotel, since he wouldn't be awake for a while.  Sara, Greg, Bill, and I would visit one more time, but he wasn't awake.  He didn't know we were there.
     Our dear nephew, Jason, and his beautiful family spent time with Mother as we went to dinner.  We all were starting to relax and we were hopeful.  But then we got the phone call.  It was Dad.  It was bad.  Sara and Greg arrived at the hospital first, then we arrived with Mother.  However, it was too late. Our father's heart no longer beat. He never regained consciousness. I took Mom in for one more moment with him, but we realized he was gone.  All that was left was the vessel that held my father's soul.  We returned to Dayton.
     When we picked up Mother and Dad Wednesday for the trip to Spokane, Dad wanted to tell us something important.  He told us how he knew he had quit breathing during the night, but he felt someone place his CPAP mask back on his face so he could breathe again.  He believed it was heavenly intervention.  I believe an angel named Andrew was watching over his beloved grandfather.
     Andrew and Grandpa (and Grandma) had secrets they kept from me.  Many mornings my parents would receive an 8:05 AM phone call asking for a ride, because he was running late or he forgot something.  I never knew about these phone calls until after Andrew's death.  Those two boys...
     Dr. Vish told us that Dad had rallied a few times as they were trying to stabilize him, but finally, he just gave up.  I believe his angel was with him and told him it was okay to stop fighting.  It was okay to let go.
     We are heartbroken today, but we rejoice that our father is no longer in pain.  He can breath again.  He can walk without using a cane.  Maybe even his toenails are beautiful.  One thing I know for certain...my father was greeted last night by my beloved son and they now are living in the light of our beloved Savior.
     Andrew...take good care of Grandpa.  I'll see you both again someday.

Today, I am proud to be~
John's Daughter and Andrew's Mom
   

19TH BIRTHDAY

Happy Birthday, Bubby.  Today you would have turned 19.  Oh how we've missed you these past two and a half years.  As I've thought of birthdays past this week, I've also wondered what you would be doing today.  Would you be going to school?  Would you be serving our country and be stationed somewhere in the USA or overseas?  Would your hair be really short or would you grow it out?  How much taller did you grow--did you reach your goal--be taller than Clint? Are you still wearing basketball shorts all the time?

Today we are going to say good-bye to Mr. Hodgson.  Remember your PowerPoint on deer that you made for his class?  Remember how you even got some of Dad's sheds so you could record a "rattle" for the presentation?  You really enjoyed working on that project.  Deer seemed to be the topic of many research projects you did for school.

Today will be a really sad day...saying good-bye to a really great man and remembering the fact that we should be celebrating your birthday.  But we will celebrate too.  This morning in the gym we will celebrate Mr. Hodgson and all the good he did in this world.  We will return to the gym tonight to celebrate the girls basketball team and their success this season.  You would be proud of the girls and Mr. Strong.  They have worked hard this season--we will celebrate them--win or lose.

Above all we will celebrate the young man you were and celebrate the fact we had you for sixteen years.

As always...I am proud to say that I am...

~Andrew's Mom

THE CLASS OF 2012

     Bill and I have recently completed one very difficult week.  First we celebrated with the Dayton High School Class of 2012 as they graduated on Saturday, June 2.  Then we attended the baccalaureate service for the Waitsburg Class of 2012 on Thursday, June 7--the second anniversary of Andrew's death.  Then Friday, June 8th we said good-bye to the WHS Class of 2012.  We did all of that without our Andrew.
     Andrew began his education in Waitsburg with Zach, Chris, Jeff, Ronnie, Justin, Jessica, and Kayla.  He stayed with these kids until the end of second grade.

     Then I took a year off and Andrew began third grade at Dayton Elementary School.  It was a tough year--so many groups are already formed by this grade--but Andrew continued on with these kids until the day he died.
     So this past seven days we celebrated the lives of young men and women who were an important part of our son's lives.  They will go on to study important things, marry their best friends, become parents of wonderful little people.  And our son will be forever sixteen years old.
     The important milestones that have a specific date have all been survived--First day of Senior Year...Senior Night....Graduation.  Now is really the hardest part.  We will never see our son graduate from college or separate from the military.  We will never dance at his wedding or hold the son or daughter of our son.  (Big sigh).
     However, we will continue to celebrate the lives of those who were an important part of his.  We will see college gradutions.  We will attend weddings.  We will give gifts to the sons and daughters of Andrew's friends.
     We will never get over Andrew's death.  However, we do get through the little events in life that make up our lives.  So congratulations to the Class of 2012.  To those who passed through his life--Cheyenne, Tanner, Lindsay, Jacob--and to those who were a part of his life at the end---Colleen, Jacob, Garett, Colton, Hayden, Carter, Joey, Kroft, Alex, Abby, Molly, Anita, April, Caitlyn, Chase, Paisley, Brandon, Justin, Adam, Blake, Nicole, Keisha, Gabe, Leighla, Ashley, Derek, Austin, Timmy, Danica, Shelby, Samura, and Darci.

     It's been a joy watching you grow into young men and young women.  We are excited to see all the places you go.

~Andrew's Mom and Dad

THERE ARE NO WORDS

      I realized the other day that I hadn't posted anything since August.  Pondering why, I realized the answer is pretty simple--the words haven't come to me.  Why?  During this second year without Andrew, my sorrow--I realize--cannot be put into words.  How can one describe the feeling of loss I experience on a daily basis?  There are no words...

There are no words...

• to explain the constant sadness that greets me every morning when I see "Andrew's Room...Do Not Enter"  on his door;
• to describe the guilt (I know I'm not suppose to, but I still do) I feel about my role in all of this;
• to communicate the bittersweet feelings of pride I feel when I see his friends having success during their last year of high school;
• to share after I visited his grave.

There are no words...

There are no words...

• to say thank you to friends and family who have been so supportive;
• to express our gratitude for everyone's love and prayers;
• to explain how much the giving in Andrew's name means to our family;
• to give when one tells me how much they miss Andrew too.

However, there are words...

• Thank you for loving our son as much as we love him;
• Blessings to all who lift us up in supportive thoughts and prayers;
• Thank you...

~Andrew's Mom

IN SERVICE OF ANDREW

       There are many signs that the experts say one can see in a child who is suicidal.  Giving things away.  No plans.  Final preparations.  Notes.  Threats.  I can say I truly saw none of this in Andrew.  He was sad, but he had a lot of plans for the summer and for his junior year.  He was excited about football--he would get to play a new position.  He was looking forward to summer basketball camps.  We had even talked about his Senior Project.  He wanted to spruce up the football bleachers.  We had even talked with the superintendent about working on the bleachers.  It would be a big project, so we felt we needed a year to get everything and everyone ready for this big project.
       Spring ahead a year.  Our family is still dealing with the shock that our youngest took his life.  We try not to focus on the "what ifs."  That would drive us all crazy, because we all think about what we could have done to prevent this.  But this is our new reality and so we deal with our grief daily.  One way Bill and I have dealt with the loneliness we feel in our lives is to do projects.  We have done a lot of projects around our home this past year...it is better to be busy than to deal with the quiet in our home.  The main thing that Bill and I wanted to complete this summer was to fulfill Andrew's Senior Project.  It was very logical for us to do something at the football field, because we knew how much he loved being on any football field.  For us, Bulldog Stadium was the place where the community shared with us in our grief in those early days.  However, the original plan didn't work out, so we went to Plan B--give the boys' locker room a face lift and paint the back of the bleachers at the field. 
      So on the weekend of Bud and Marilyn's 50th anniversary Amanda, Clint, Ashley, Aunt Vicki, Bill, and I worked on making the locker room full of Bulldog pride.  It was a great way for our family to do something in honor of Andrew for his friends.  We taught Andrew, just as we had been taught by our parents, that service to others is important.  So in service of Andrew we gave two places where he was happiest--the gym and the football field--a new look.  In service of Andrew we gave back to our community as a thanks for the love and support they have given us during this past year.

 

When the boys go to get their gear for the first practice of the year they will see a "new" look in the locker room.  There's something for the girls too.  When they go to practice at the field, they will see a little more crimson and gold.  It is a time they will remember their friend Groomer and one way for him to be with them during this last year of high school. 
       One night, when we were painting the back of the bleachers, a friend was at the field watching the soccer camp.  He made a comment that sums up why we wanted to do this project... our kids deserve this.  That is why Andrew wanted to make the bleachers look better.  He was proud to be a Bulldog and he wanted to have the place he loved so much mirror his pride.  So in service of Andrew...we begin the journey of a senior year without him.

REMNANTS OF MY SUMMER

       It's less than a month away before school begins.  I'm proctoring HSPE (high school proficiency exams) retakes this week, so I am officially beginning to get ready for school.  The remnants of last school year sit in boxes, ready to be examined one more time before I put them in their place for the year.
      At home, one can see remnants of visitors from a long, wonderful weekend.  Yesterday, I put lawn chairs away from our Friday night party.  There are leftover cookies from Bud and Marilyn's 50th Anniversary party on the counter.  Today, perhaps, I will put away all of the toys that found their way out of storage totes.  I love having toys around the house...it doesn't seem so kidless when there are toys in the backroom.
       However, there are things in one bedroom in my home that I just can't seem to put in their rightful places.  If I hang Andrew's t-shirt quilt over his bed or put his golf ball collection or his shadow box of special memories from his bulletin board in the places I have reserved for them, perhaps things will become too real for me to handle.  I think I survive everyday, because in the back of my mind I keep a small hope that all of this is just a dream and I will wake up and need to buy him school supplies and clothes for his senior year of high school.
       These last pieces of Andrew that haven't found a permanent home yet are just one more step I need to take in the healing process.  This has been a summer of healing.  Bill and I have done a lot of projects since June--some that needed to be finished, some just to keep us busy.  Football will begin in two weeks.  It should be a joyous time in our home.  Instead, it is kind of sad.  Another activity where we had planned to be in the middle of; however, our Bulldog is just a memory so we stand on the outside looking in.  The first of many hard things for us to experience this year. 
       As I type this I see small remnants of crimson paint that stain my fingers...remnants of a project the kids, Bill, and I finished over the weekend.  It is appropriate that I have that stain, because it is a lot like the stain of sadness that has colored my world during this past year.  This stain, much like my sadness, will fade as this new school year begins.  It has been a summer of healing, of taking remnants from a past full of love and hope, and creating a life without Andrew in the middle of it. 

ALONE WITH MY MEMORIES

       I just put a load of laundry into the dryer and I noticed the four pencil stubs and the last coins I ever retrieved from Andrew's jeans. They adorn the top of our dryer and I keep them there because...I'm not sure why.  I guess that is where I put them originally and I guess that is where they will stay.
       Since Andrew was in the third grade, he had this habit of using his pencils down to a small, little stub.  This drove me nuts!  There are literally fifty or more pencils in our house, but he always seemed to have nothing in his backpack or in his pocket that resembled a full, complete writing utensil known as a pencil.  There is also one that I took out of his shorts after his last golf outting the day before he died.  Everytime I do laundry, these little momentos bring a smile to my heart or a tear to my eye...never know which emotion.
       In a way this summer is much more difficult than last summer.  I honestly think I must of been in shock all of last year.  This year is full of learning to deal with my reality of a very quiet house with the empty bedroom of my son.  My days are filled with little things--laundry, cleaning, reading, watching movies, fixing dinner for Bill, etc.  I like it this way.  This way I don't have to think much.  When Bill gets home we usually spend the evening together, that is unless he has a little project he is working on.  I am beginning to think he doesn't like sitting still, because he notices the quiet too.
       Please don't start planning things for me to do.  I can't do them. I won't do them. I don't seem to have the desire to be too social.  I don't have the need to travel or go shopping.  I do enough, just enough to keep most people from trying to find things for me to do.      
       July has always been my time of rejuvenation (translation...doing nothing to do with school).  It's just that I always had another person in the house during the day to keep me company.  When Andrew was little we did a lot of things together during the summer.  Where I went, he went.  Where he went, I usually took him.  We did Summer Rec. together.  When he learned to golf, I was his caddy.  We went to the movies.  I took him to camp and then picked him up.  Now, I spend my days alone.
       Again, I repeat, I am not looking for things to do.  However, seeing those stubby little pencils just brought me back to another time in my life--a time when I had more than enough to do.  One thing that I have been doing is reading and during that quiet time, I swear I hear someone at the back door.  Not actually at the door, but on the landing of the stairs to the basement.  When someone stands there, a distinctive noise is made.  I swear I hear it often during the day, yet when I check no one is there.  In my heart I want it to be Andrew...making the decision to go out the door and then return at the end of the school day or after practice or after anything.  I just want him to return.  However, in my brain I know he isn't coming home.
       So I am learning to live in my new reality with my memories. I am also working on making new memories. Hendrix comes Tuesday for a day with grandma.  We go to lunch.  We work on her school stuff. We go to the Children's Series movie at the Liberty Theater.  On other days I have coffee with friends.  Bill and I do things on the weekends.  We go to breakfast.  We take a drive. We work on yet another project.  We go to the cemetary and water flowers.  However, I am also learning to live in a quiet house, where I am blessed to have made many memories and where new ones are constantly being made and will continue to be made.

COUSINS

       As my summer vacation begins, I am trying to use my time well.  My first task today was transferring pictures from one computer to another.  Talk about memories rushing back to me.  Each day last week I posted something for which I am thankful in Andrew's life.  This post of my blog will mirror that.  Today I am thankful that Andrew had such great cousins.
      Andrew has a lot of cousins.  Their ages range from 40 to 14.  With that age range, one can imagine that he was closer to some more than others.  Markus, Colleen, and McKenzie are the three who shared most major events with Andrew. 

Markus and Andrew got to play football together the year Andrew was in third grade. 

They played against each other when Andrew was a freshman and Markus was a senior.

. 
Colleen and Andrew shared most everything together--Andrew was from February 9 to May 7 older than Colleen, so they were in the same swimming lessons, went to the same daycare for a while, same Sunday School class, same school class from third grade on

However, it is Andrew and McKenzie who share many similarities.

       Christine and I are constantly amazed at how alike these two cousins are.  They both are a bit unorganized (translate--very messy rooms, though I think McKenzie tries to keep hers clean--Andrew gave up...he just waited for me to clean it for him).  They both have the same attitude towards school.  They are both very competitive on the athletic field.  Watching McKenzie play basketball is a bit bittersweet for me.  She has the same intensity on defense as Andrew.  They spend a bit of every game on the floor.  They both got their concussions in basketball.
       I found a picture of the two of them today.  As I study the picture, I noticed that their hair is the exact same color.  They both have the same smile.  They both have the same twinkle in their eyes.  They are the boy/girl version of the same Delp grandchild. 
       As McKenzie grows up, I wish for her some of the same qualities that Andrew had.  I hope she is kind to all she meets.  I hope she finds and cultivates a personal relationship with Jesus.  I hope she sees value in education.  I hope she is a great teammate to all.  I hope she knows how much she is loved, no matter how tough life is.
       Andrew forgot for a moment how much people loved him.  I will make sure McKenzie never questions that. 
~Andrew's Mom



TENDING ANDREW'S FLOWERS

I'm going to preface this blog by saying I will probably make some people angry at me for what I am about to write.  However, this is my blog and these thoughts have been in my thoughts since last week, so I need to get them out.
       Last week was very difficult for me.  It was the end of the school year, so that made it crazy busy.  I thought I would have time to get my room in order and check out on time.  That didn't happen.  I found lots to keep me busy and even after 10 AM last Friday, I still had kids in my room.  The kids in my room talked as if they have no clue that I was sitting right there.  I heard things I really wished I hadn't heard, but I did hear them.  And the things I heard made me sad, because kids that I love are making terrible personal decisions.  It was also the week of the first anniversary of the day that changed my life forever, just because of a personal decision that can't be reversed.
       Now back to the title of this entry.  On Sunday, June 5, Bill and I went up to Andrew's grave and tended to the hanging baskets that are there.  We watered them and turned them, allowing them to recover from the wind that had been blowing them since their last turning.  So on Tuesday, June 7, when I went to visit again, I was shocked to see how bad the flowers looked.  The constant blowing of the wind on that hill overlooking Dayton had really taken its toll on those poor flower pots.  I thought maybe they were done for the season.  So Kristin helped me load them into the car and I took them home to see if I could revive them.  I placed them on the patio, out of the wind, and started their recuperation.  It was amazing how quickly they snapped out of that dried up, destroyed flower look.  This afternoon when I checked on them I figured it was time to take them back to Andrew and try this again. 
       As I drove to the cemetery this afternoon, all of those overheard conversations came back to my mind.  I thought to myself, "What are they thinking?"  That is the same question I asked last June..."What was he thinking?"  Just like Andrew, have they forgotten all those goals they made so many years before?  Have they forgotten the plans they have made?  Have they forgotten that the rest of their lives is about to begin anew?  Don't they know how these decisions can change their lives...maybe forever?
       Kids, think twice before you do something that can affect your life in a way you are not prepared to handle.  You have made commitments to adults who have helped you get to this point in your life.  You have made commitments to friends and teammates who are working hard towards your shared goal.  You have signed athletic contracts.  You have created and agreed to covenants that you have shared with the community.  You have or you will ask people to support you financially as you go to college.  There are a lot of things that are fun and legal for your age that will not jeopardize your future plans--both plans for this next year and plans for the rest of your life.
        Parents, you must parent your kids.  All I get to do is tend the flowers on my son's grave.  You have an opportunity to remind the kids of the goals they have for their future--both near and far.  Say no.  Don't give them access to places that are unsupervised.  Don't give them access to things that may be legal for you, but are illegal for teenagers.  None of our kids are perfect.  Mine wasn't and now the decision that he made June 7, 2010 has changed everything.  The decisions that the kids are making now can do the same thing.  I know that we can't stop them from making and doing things that are wrong for them, but we can make it more difficult for them.  As they leave, remind them to be safe.  Remind them to make good decisions.  Remind them that they have a lot of people who love them and who are watching what they do...whether they know it or not.
       Kids are like those flower pots.  For me, those flower pots are my responsibility to tend to.  I must water them.  I must feed them.  I must take away the dead, so new can grow.  I must try to protect them from the winds of our area.  As a parent, you must do the same.  Water your children with love.  Feed them with knowledge--both new and from your experiences.  You must help them grow, sometimes by cutting away the parts of their life that is stopping them from blooming.  You must do everything in your power to protect them from the cruel winds of our society.  Remind them everyday that you love them. 
~Andrew's Mom

     

THE CIRCLE OF LIFE

In the very near future, Bill and I are going to be grandparents again.  I've been thinking about this image all day--just think--our newest grandchild is hanging out with Andrew in heaven, waiting for the time for him or her to come join our family. 
       I'm sad that this newest member of our family will not have the chance to know him as Hendrix did, here on earth, but I truly believe Andrew is spending time with his niece or nephew right now--before we get to.  And on the day God tells him, Andrew will bring our newest Groom to earth on the wings of angels. 
       In 2010 we lost our sweet Andrew.  In 2011 we will welcome a new, sweet little Groom child.  The circle of life.

AND THIS IS WHAT I SAID

A few weeks ago, I was pondering what I would say to the Class of 2011 at their Baccalaureate Service.  And this is what I said...

Thank you for allowing me to speak to you tonight.  This is a privilege because I get to share something personal to me and that is my faith.  Whenever one writes, what is the magic number of things one should write about—that’s right—three.  So tonight I have three G things that I want to speak to you about.  They are guilt, grace, and God.

Guilt is a major part of my life.  I feel guilt about what I eat or what I don’t eat.  I feel guilt that I don’t exercise enough.  I feel guilt that I don’t use the time in my life as well as I might.  I feel guilt because I don’t spend enough time with my parents.  I feel guilt…And because I feel guilt, Satan uses that against me all the time.  He is so good about putting the “What ifs” into my brain.  He did that very well the days following June 7th.  After Andrew’s death I felt guilty about how tough I was on him.  I knew he had a gentle heart and soul, but yet I still pushed, pushed, pushed.  I felt guilty that I hadn’t realized just how sad he really was.  I’ve been around kids a lot in my life.  One would think I would be able to know the depth of my own son’s sadness.  I felt guilty because on the day my son died, I was spending time with you—celebrating the next step of your life—helping you decide things about your graduation. However, I want you to know that Satan was just using all those “what ifs” to weaken my faith, to weaken my resolve to live a life in Christ.  Just as he used Andrew’s sadness and confusion about his life to create one fragile moment for him, he tried to put all of those aspects of my guilt into my head and to take me away from God.  But you know what?  All of those things of which I felt so keenly did not weaken my faith.  They did not take me away from my relationship with God.  And you know why?  It’s because of God’s grace.

Grace is defined in the Merriam-Webster dictionary as a: unmerited divine assistance given humans for their regeneration or sanctification b: a virtue coming from God c: a state of sanctification enjoyed through divine grace.  It is the gift of God’s grace that allows me to continue living a life without Andrew.  Andrew took his life, he did not take mine.  And even with all of the stuff Satan keeps putting in my brain via my guilt, I find unmerited divine assistance given to me for my regeneration and my sanctification.  Regeneration is a spiritual renewal or revival.    Sanctification is a blessing.  One may ask, “How can the death of your son be a spiritual renewal or revival of your life, of your faith in God?  How can the death of your son be a blessing?”  I don’t know how it has happened, but it has happened.  My spiritual life is stronger, it is purer.  Blessings have happened in our family because of Andrew’s death.  And all of this is because of God’s grace.  It is a gift I have not earned, yet it has been given to me.

So this brings me to my third and final G—God.  No matter what manner you may choose to worship, there is God in the middle of it.  For some, their god may have a lower case g, but my God has a capital letter G.  He is the center of my life. 


Do you believe in God?  I do.  How can we live in this area of the world and not know that God exists?  How can we look at you and not know God exists?  Psalm 46:10 says, “Be still, and know that I am God.” And Matthew 25:20 says, “And be sure of this: I am with you always, even to the end of the age."

During the year prior to Andrew’s death I questioned organized religion. I saw so many people claiming to be Christians who were very un-Christ like. They were full of pride and self, rather than God. But I must remember that God is not religion--God is God. He is powerful.

He is:
• the light of the world.
• compassionate.
• the Lord who heals you.
• will strengthen you.
• the Lord your God, who teaches you what is best for you, who directs you in the way you should go.
• is merciful
• the Lord, the God of all mankind.

So guilt, grace, and God.  These are the three gs that are a part of who I am as a person, who I am as a Christian.  Tonight I leave you with this profession of my faith.

I am a Christian.  I was created for the glory of God.  My life was paid with the blood of Christ on a cross created for a criminal.  I am the daughter of a King.  I am a Christian.

I am a Christian.  I stand on the shoulders of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John: of Deborah, Ruth, and the Marys.  I have known success in my faith and I have known doubt.  I have known unbelievable joy and I have known unbearable sorrow.  I have been tested by the Tempter and I tell you that he has been vanquished --I am a Christian.

I am a Christian.  Tonight I share with you the Good News of Jesus Christ.  I tell you he was born of a virgin, lived on this earth as a man; he was crucified as a criminal, was buried and on the third day rose from the dead. He ascended to Heaven where He stands beside my son and where they await my arrival someday.   I tell you there is a God and He loves you and He loves me.  I tell you God’s grace is available to all.  Grace is a gift…the most precious gift you will ever be given.  I am a Christian.

Know tonight, as we leave this building, there is hope for all who seek Him.  "Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.”  ~Matthew 7:7

I love you all.  Blessings~

I am honored that the kids allowed me to speak to them.  It is the first time I have spoken about Andrew's death to anyone except family and close friends.  It wasn't easy, but I'm glad I got the chance to share this.  It was a special service for a special group of kids.

As June 7th comes around for the first anniversary of Andrew's death, please pray for Bill and me, for all of our family.  It is hard to live a life without Andrew in it.  I miss him so much that some days I really don't want to get out of bed.  But I do and I make it through the day.  It's just that the days aren't as bright as they used to be. 

Congratulations Class of 2011.  I'm going to miss you.

~Andrew's Mom

LIFE'S NOT THE BREATH YOU TAKE

But life's not the breath you take, the breathing in and out
That gets you through the day, ain't what it's all about
You just might miss the point trying to win the race
Life's not the breaths you take but the moments that take your breath away

I love almost every song George Strait sings; however, lately I seem to be living one particular song.  I am getting my breathe taken away in unexpected times and in unexpected ways. 
       I was working at school the other day, just sitting at my desk grading some papers.  Suddenly, on my computer screen was a picture of Andrew and his friend, Samura.  They were outside her home before they left for the Sadie Hawkins dance.  He came across so larger than life on that screen.  He was smiling.  His eyes were smiling.  He felt so real to me.  I literally lost my breathe for a moment.  Then I remembered that he was gone.  It took me a moment or two before I could move.  I suddenly lost all motivation for reading another paper.

       This afternoon I stopped by my sister-in-law's salon.  On the counter was this list of people.  It was a pretty wide list--three columns wide and a full page of names.  Suddenly I realized it was a list of all the people who had died in Columbia County during the past year--May 2010 to May 2011.  Towards the top of the page, in the first column, there he was. Andrew David Groom--16.  I literally froze for a moment and lost my breath, as if someone had kicked me in the stomach.  There it was in black and white. My son's name on a list of the dead of Columbia County.

       For the next two weeks, I think I will be breathing in and out, just getting through the day.   Life's not the breaths you take, but the moments that take your breath away. 

~Andrew's Mom

I SAW GOD TODAY

This is a very busy time of year for me. I work 8-10 hours at school and then I work in my sleep for who knows how long?  I remember aspects of my dreams, but I feel the anxiety of whatever I dreamt about for hours after.  Last night's highlight--I forgot to get the scholarship information to the principal for the graduation ceremony.  My heart is still beating a little fast right now.
       Last night was the first night of "Senior Exit Interviews."  At my school we have academic advisory.  For four years, teachers work with a specific group of students on their goals--academic, citizenship, and career--plus we try to help them see what may be in their future.  Last night I met with the first half of my kids for the final time.  I was not prepared for the level of emotion I felt during each conference.  As I sat there listening to them talk about their final grades, their Senior Projects, and where they stood for the next two weeks, I felt extreme pride for the young men and women they have grown into.  And all of a sudden, they are so grown up!
       This class has a very special place in my heart.  For many, they knew Andrew as a small boy.  They attended Judy's Day Care with him.  They played soccer, t-ball, and basketball with him.  They also shared my grief last June, as their teacher wasn't with them in the classroom for the last week of school.  They did everything I wanted them to do and more, even though I wasn't with them.  This year they have shown kindness and love towards me as we have traveled through this very special year for them.  They were aware of my tenderness and for the most part, they protected me from so much.  Whether they know it or not, they have shown God's love to me all year long.  Now believe me, I know they have complained about me at times this year and I have had my moments with them as well.  However, in the end, it really has been a great senior year for them and for me.
       During one of our exit interviews, I sat across the table from a mom and a daughter whose love for each other is palpable.  When you are with them, you know they really love each other.  As I watched them talk about the end of this young lady's high school career, I realized that this seemed pretty normal.  However, the three of us share a life today that we would never have imagined a year ago.  Not much about our lives are normal these days.  Important people in our lives are no longer with us, because of their choice, not ours.  As I looked at the joy in the daughter's face and the pride on the mother's face, I thought this is God's grace.  Just as God has allowed Bill and me to go on and live our lives, God is allowing this mother and daughter to live their lives and celebrate this special accomplishment.  Sadness still is our companion, yet God takes His arms and wraps us in His love, letting us remember the good things in our lives rather than dwelling on what we have lost.
       As I shared one more time with each student and his/her family, I thought how can anyone doubt God's existence when one looks on the faces of these young people who have just accomplished one goal, looking towards the future with such hope.  I saw God today.

~Andrew's Mom

THE SOUNDS OF SILENCE

       We all know how our senses can act as memory makers.  Sights, smells, touch, taste...those things can bring memories flooding back to our minds.  I've already written about Andrew's smell and how I try to get a whiff of it whenever I walk into his room.  However, the sense that has been around me this weekend is the sense of sound.
      One of Andrew's friends sent me a message this week, sharing how he has been thinking about him a lot.  He shared one particular memory that has been on my mind since I read it.

 "I miss hearing his shoes squeak as he would run through the door trying to beat the tardy bell."

       Yep, that's my boy.  Always running in at the last minute.  Being early was one thing Bill and I could not instill in him.  Another dear friend sent me a message saying she missed seeing him running to catch the bus. 
       But let's go back to the sound.  Andrew found these really great shoes last year.  He loved those shoes, but one day he got them wet and from that moment on, they squeaked.  No matter what we did to them, they squeaked.  Andrew would put the shoes away for awhile because the squeak bothered him, but he said those shoes felt so great he would just be squeaky until he couldn't take it any longer--then the shoes would go back into the closet.
       After Hendrix left yesterday our house was very quiet.  I noticed it immediately.  It was such a lonely sound.  My heart broke a little more as I stood in the middle of my house hearing the silence.
       Four weeks from today will mark the first anniversary of Andrew's death.  I remember the silence in the house as Bill and I walked in, looking for him.  I think about the sound of my phone calls breaking the silence that had taken over our house that day.  I reflect on my life without Andrew as I stand by his grave on the hill overlooking town.  The sounds of silence.
       I had a dream about him last night.  I came home and found him still sleeping.  Oh how I wish that was true.  I was so elated when I touched his shoulder and he woke up.  He looked so handsome. I even smelt him.  However, there were no sounds to this dream.  The sounds of silence.
~Andrew's Mom

WHAT TO SAY?

This weekend has been difficult for me.  It started Friday afternoon when Hendrix gave me a "Grandmother--Mother's Day" card.  I read the words aloud to her and by the middle of the poem I was in tears.  I knew I was dreading this weekend, my first Mother's Day in seventeen years without my son, but I didn't know how tender I had become.  I had lots of fun things scheduled to do this weekend, but I immediately knew some of them would have to happen without me.  The tears are back and they come with little warning--this is not a good thing when you are in public.
     So I spent Friday evening working on my message for the WHS Class of 2011's Baccalaureate service.  But what do I say to them? 
     It has been a year of extreme highs (lots of success on the athletic fields and in the classroom) and extreme lows (controversies, deaths, general teenage stress).  I want the message to be one of faith and hope. 
      So please pray that the words they need to hear are the words I write.  Pray for strength for me as I share my heart and for them as they hear the words.  Pray for open ears and open hearts.  Please pray for me and for the WHS Class of 2011.

~Andrew's Mom

THE TIES THAT BIND

Hendrix was at her wisest this weekend.  I think she can see my thoughts on my face.  We were driving back from school on Friday and I hear this small, "You miss him."  It was such a quiet statement I almost missed it.  I looked in the rear view mirror and said, "What did you say?"  She quietly replied, "You miss Andrew, don't you?"  A lump instantly formed in my throat and I said, "Yes, honey, I do.  Every minute of every day I miss him."  The kids in my life are so busy--track, baseball, softball, and this weekend, prom.  Just a year ago Andrew went to prom.  This year, everyone went and he wasn't there.
       Friday Hendrix and I went over to watch the W-P softball team play Dayton.  As we were going to the field, I saw some of the baseball boys getting ready for practice.  I saw Wyatt first and whipped around to talk to him.  Bill and I had seen him driving to school earlier in the day.  Yes, it was the first day for him.  He had just got his license the day before.  Then Garett and Hayden pulled in.  Colton popped out from behind the fence.  It did my heart good to see the boys.  I hadn't seen them much since basketball ended.  I miss them.
       Saturday saw Hendrix and me making another trip to the fields, this time to watch the W-P baseball team play Dayton.  As we passed the football field, Hendrix asked when football would start.  I told her as soon as our summer vacation was over, it would be time for football.  "Since we don't have Andrew anymore, who will we watch?"   I reminded her about the boys we had just visited with the day before.  "We will watch Hayden, Colton, Garett, Wyatt, Kroft, Joey, and the rest of the boys."  "Oh," she said.  "Okay, I want football to come soon." 
       I thought about her thinking process the rest of the day.  She doesn't see Andrew as a member of a group, but as her uncle who is gone.  I still see Andrew with the boys.  When I see them, I look for him.  I think about the evening of the Spring Sports banquet, last June 1.  After the dinner, Roy and Clayton had a meeting with the boys about summer basketball plans.  At the end of the meeting, Colton turned to Andrew and extended his hand, helping him up off the floor where he had been sitting.  I think of that image so often.  Andrew must have felt alone, yet all he had to do was to look around and one of the boys would have extended a helping hand to him.  So many would have, if we would have only known.
       The ties that are pictured at the beginning of this entry are in his room, hanging in the same spot where he left them after basketball season ended.  Notice that many of them are still tied.  Notice his beloved pink tie--now my beloved pink tie.  Whether the boys know it or not, they have a tie that binds them to Bill and to me.  They will always be a part of our lives.  We will support them in all ways, at all times.  It is a tie to Andrew that we are not quiet ready to let go of.  I'm not sure if we every will be.

~Andrew's Mom

HEAVEN ON MY MIND

Do you know how many songs have the word heaven in them?  Just tonight as I was driving home I heard "If Heaven Weren't So Far Away" and "Holes in the Floor of Heaven."  Then I went to see Andrew and Alan Jackson started singing, "Sissy's Song" (Don't Worry About Me).

Why did she have to go

So young I just don't know why

Things happen half the time

Without reason without rhyme

Lovely, sweet young woman

Daughter, wife and mother

Makes no sense to me

I just have to believe

All week I have had that nagging word in my brain--"Why?"  Why did you leave us, Andrew?  Why didn't you know how much people cared for you?  Why didn't you think about how this would affect everyone who loves you?  Why?  Intellectually I believe the words in this stanza--"Things happen half the time, Without reason without rhyme...Makes no sense to me, I just have to believe."  My heart is just having a difficult time dealing with how much I miss him.

Loved ones he left behind
Just trying to survive
And understand the why
Feeling so lost inside
Anger shot straight at God
Then asking for His love
Empty with disbelief
Just hoping that maybe

June is coming too fast.  I am just trying to survive the end of the school year, trying to be sure that I don't cheat the seniors out of the joy they deserve to experience.  It is hard to share joy with others when you are feeling so lost inside.

He flew up to Heaven on the wings of angels
By the clouds and stars and passed where no one sees
And he walks with Jesus and his loved ones waiting
And I know he's smiling saying
Don't worry 'bout me

Last night I finished the book Heaven is for Real by Todd Bumpo.  I know some who read the book may question how much can a four-year-old really know about the topic.  Because it is coming from a four-year-old I have a tendency to believe it all.  I get great comfort knowing that he saw Jesus and that Jesus put this little boy on his lap while he was there.  I get comfort knowing that the little boy saw family members in Heaven.  After reading this book I see Andrew so clearly, wings and all.  I get comfort thinking about Andrew walking with Jesus and with all of my family who went before him.  I know he's smiling and I keep hearing him whisper in my ear, "Don't worry about me."  I don't worry about him, but I do miss him so much. 

In English III we are reading The Scarlet Letter.  Arthur Dimmesdale constantly grabs his chest, acting like his heart is in pain.  One of the kids said today, "Do you think it's because his heart is breaking?"  I replied, "Yes, but figuratively rather than literally."  I understand the heart pain that Arthur was feeling.  His heart was breaking because he wasn't true to God or to the woman who gave up every bit of herself to keep their secret from society.  Just when I think my heart is starting to heal, I'll have a day like I had today.  When I went to visit Andrew, my heart broke all over again. 

Eric Clapton understands the brokenness of losing a child.  I'll end my thoughts on Heaven with his words.

Beyond the door
There's peace, I'm sure
And I know there'll be no more
Tears in heaven

Would you know my name
If I saw you in heaven?
Would it be the same
If I saw you in heaven?

~Andrew's Mom