In memory of our Danny
3 Jun 2009
This month marked one full year. It was one
year ago, June 3rd, that our lives were
forever changed. It is an anniversary
we won’t celebrate. No gifts given, no
special dinners cooked. It is the first
anniversary of the tragic accident that
took the life of our youngest son Daniel.
We received that fateful phone call informing
us there had been an accident. The sleepless
night that followed was shared by friends who
came and sat through the night with us.
That bright June morning began like most days--
a little hectic. We had to get an early start. We
did all the normal things. We had breakfast,
dressed, and kissed the children good-bye as
we walked out the door. We even remembered
to pray together as a family before we left that
morning.
My husband had been acquainted with tragedy
at an early age. He lost his father as a young
boy. That morning started much the same way
as any other day as well. He left for school
that morning, and came home to find an
ambulance taking his father away. It was
he that learned that bitter lesson so many
years ago; to always kiss his family good-bye
every single time he walked out the door. I was looking over my personal journal and found the words I wrote a few short weeks after the accident last June. “It is as though we are walking in slow motion along a narrow path. Sometimes the path is rugged, and we struggle to simply put one foot in front of the other. To my right, there is a steep drop overlooking a vast blue sea of calm water. It is cool and inviting. The wind blowing over the water whispers to me. It tells me of the man I never knew in the boy I lost. It reminds me of his long hugs, his sparkling smile and what might have been. It tells me to come in and wade through these waters.
But the Holy Spirit squeezes my hand, pulls me back, and gently forbid me…for in those waters are the depths of despair. I am only allowed to look over those waters, but never to wade through them.
The Holy Spirit reminds me to keep my eyes on Him, and He gently turns my head from the sea of hopelessness. He comforts us with drops of joy that follows streams of tears, and bursts of laughter in the midst of sorrow. The journey through these emotions is exhausting.
Even so, I know we must continue to put one foot in front of the other, and stay on this path one step at a time. My heart holds His assurance that we will not be washed away by a sea of despair; instead, if we keep our eyes on Him, he will lead us to peace, and make all things new.”
One of the many lessons I have learned is, that there are many, many others walking the same road. We are not alone. Grief is common to man. It comes in all forms. The loss of a job, a divorce, or the death of someone you love; all bring different levels of grief. And with each event comes unique circumstances which will intensify, or lessen the pain of grief. Sorrow comes is many shades.
We are still on that path; although we have traveled it for a year now. It is as though the journey has brought us to live on a beach.
Most days are now bright, with the sun shining, and we can hear the laughter of our grandchildren playing in the distance. Our home is quite different, often empty and quiet. Our house is built on a Rock, not on the shifting sand, so it remains firm and strong with each storm that hits us. Yet, the sea roars, and the tide comes in and goes out, often knocking us again to our knees.
As the sun rises a year later, I have few answers to the whys of life. But this I know, and can say with certainty, don’t go through the fire unchanged. Press in, press on, and let the pressure of life become a refining fire that molds and shapes us into the best we can be. | 
...Tedd Tripp speaks on parenting...
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