June 17, 2001

June 17, 2001 was a Sunday. It was also Father’s Day. A couple of weeks ago I thought about writing about this particular Father’s Day and then I looked at the calendar and realized that Father’s Day fell on the same date this year! It felt almost coincidental.

I’ve always tried to find special gifts or reminders to give to my Dad on his birthday, Christmas and Father’s Day. Sometimes I go overboard but I only have a few occasions every year that I can really buy for him – so why not? Sometimes the perfect gift comes to mind quickly. Other times I look around a few times before finding the perfect gift. As the special day approaches I find myself getting more anxious when I haven’t come up with something. In the end, I usually do okay.

But Father’s Day 2001 was a memorable one. Not because of something I gave him but because of something he gave me.

That year both of my grandfathers were still alive so it was a busy day. I went to church in the morning, visited both of my grandfathers, and spent as much time with my Dad as possible. Watched him open gifts and had dinner; the typical Father’s Day get together. As I said goodbye to my father and started towards my car he handed me an envelope. I remember asking him what it was and he just said that it was for me and wished me a Happy Father’s Day.

Driving home that night seemed to take longer than it normally did just because I had something I wanted to open. I remember pulling into my driveway and opening the envelope before I even went into my house. Inside was a letter and a CD. I won’t go into all the details of the letter but it started like this:

Dear ____,

Today is Father’s Day. I wanted to make this one especially special by giving you a gift. You’re probably wondering why I would do such a thing. There are more than a few reasons. But firstly, it is because I could never have been a father without you. You are responsible for some of the greatest moments of joy that I shall ever experience in this lifetime… (This might be the first moment that I started to choke up reading his letter. Scratch that. I choked up when I realized I had a letter so that must have been the line that triggered the first tear!)

It went on from there but I will probably continue to keep the rest of the letter between my Dad and I.

Towards the end of his letter he reminds me to keep God in my life and that… when all else seems to fail, He will always be there. A reminder I really need from time to time.

Anyway, I guess I just want to send out a thank you to my Dad.

Because Dad, it’s you that didn’t let me quit.

You prompted me to learn a new skill.

You brought me energy that I could not have survived without.

You held my hand and sat awake all night during my hospital stay.

You pushed me to stand and push forward.

Tonight I thought I’d share a quote that seems perfect for today:

100 years from now it will not matter what kind of car I drove, what kind of house I lived in, how much I had in my bank account, nor what my clothes looked like but the world may be a little better because I was important in the life of a child. ~Forest E. Witcraft

Right now seems like the perfect time to grab a cup of tea, read this letter once more and then tuck it away for safekeeping once again.

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Signing Off

The other day I was dusting my little ones bedroom. On top of his dresser sits a large personalized piggy bank. When he was baptized I invited those in attendance to sign it for him. My first child had one and I thought it would be nice for the second one to have one as well.

While I was dusting, I took the time to look over a few of the inscriptions, and one jumped out at me. It read as follows:

God Bless you,____, You bring so much joy and happiness to my life. Love, ____

Sweet sentiment, isn’t it?

But, guess what?

This relative hasn’t even asked me how this little one is in over a year, how my other child is, or how I am.

She is very busy. Life is hectic. Running here and there. Hardly has time to fit everything into her day. She doesn’t seem to have time to communicate or acknowledge anyone anymore.

I can’t think of a birthday or Christmas that I’ve missed in her child’s life. Not one. I’ve yet to miss her birthday. You wouldn’t believe the number of calls or texts I’ve sent in support of job interviews, checking to see how doctor appointments went, or just to see how they were doing. I’m not saying that I’ve done these things because I expect them in return. I’ve done them because I care. What I am saying is that it is sad how some can so easily disregard those that they claim are important to them.

It is amazing that one who supposedly brings so much joy and happiness to another can be easily forgotten and dismissed. It takes two minutes to pick up the phone or a quick moment to send a happy birthday text. Quite difficult to do when you can’t fit anything else into your day though, right?

But wait…

That’s right.

Facebook.

Two hours or more each night.

She has time for that.

Something to think about, isn’t it?

I think it’s great that you can receive 51 happy birthday comments on Facebook because of all the friends you’ve reconnected with or made online. On Twitter you can receive 18 good luck tweets fairly quickly before heading out the door to an interview because you have 500+ followers and you sent out one tweet.

But turn off your computer for a minute.

Forget about Facebook, Google+, Twitter, Pinterest and your other social media sites.

Pretend it’s your birthday.

Your phone rings. Who is it?

It rings again. Who is it now?

Who are the people that are truly a part of your life? Those that truly care about you?

Are you neglecting them?

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Submission #11: How long does it take to heal?

How long does it take a person to heal? Well it depends on healing from what. Physical injury? Scrape? Broken bone? There is a physiological process that happens with cell regeneration, nature of the injury, cleanliness of the wound and other things. But this can be roughly determined. I don’t have an answer – your physician or specialist would be better equipped to do that. But there is a generally defined timeline.

But what if it’s an emotional trauma? Say, the loss of a loved one, as family member? In which case I am looking for answers to that very question and all I have found is “it depends.” As much as I’d really like to have a timeline of when the hurting stops I don’t think there really is one. It differs from day-to-day and sometimes hour to hour.

As you may well know, we are approaching four years since we’ve lost our son, Lcpl. James Kimple. And while the hurt has eased some, it is still there. Yes, I still will tear up talking about him. Hell, I’m having a hard time not crying as I type this in a hospital cafeteria (I am fighting a losing battle here). However my wonderful bride usually has a bit of an easier time talking about James lately. So if you see us together and ask us about James, usually she will answer. I don’t know why that is. It just is. “So it goes” as Kurt Vonnegut would say. This is not to tell you to not ask me about James. I do want to talk about him – this forum is certainly an example of that – just if you ask me in person you might need to give me a few moments.

At three years you’d think it’d be easier for me to talk or just think about James. I certainly would have thought as much. So at what point will it be less difficult? Hard to say. I am sure there will be a day when it gets easier. Maybe by talking about him more I can “work through it.” Maybe the idea of “working through it” is a bunch of crap. All I can say is that I believe it’s different for different people. Different facets of this process will be harder or easier depending on the makeup and thought processes of a person.

What I do know is that I have a fantastic bride and two wonderful sons to help. I have a good family that helps however they can. There are three awesome grandchildren that carry on James’ DNA. And I do have some pretty cool friends. Whether I am talking to them about James or something totally different I think it all helps.

But a definite end? In a strange way I hope it never ends. I feel that the sadness I feel is in direct relation to the amount of joy he brought to my life. I would never trade that for anything.

Submitted by J.D. Kimple from Riding with my Son

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Submission #8: A Book Worth Reading

I had drafted out a few blog posts…but this morning I knew I needed to write about something else today.
I read a book yesterday…well in truth I started it yesterday afternoon and then awoke at 4am and carried on reading. I have almost finished but it has touched me SO much I had to share it.

The book is called “Heaven is for Real” by Todd Burpo.
I’ve read a few books on Heaven, something which interests me not just because of my Christian faith but because of my own personal experience. I know I am taking a risk typing this up, it is something I have only ever shared in part with a couple of people before…but you know, I have said I will always speak the truth in my blog…from the heart.

I was born into a non-Christian family, I’m sure my parents believed in God but it wasn’t something that was spoken about. I had an older sister named Catherine. She had long dark hair and huge soulful eyes and was as fragile as a little bird. She couldn’t run, she couldn’t play ball.

Why? Because she had a very serious heart condition.

It hadn’t really been seen before and to be honest it was a wonder she had survived so long. But she needed a big surgery which would take place when she was 6 (I was 4 at the time). The surgery was to take place at a hospital which had a well renowned surgeon working there at the time..the hospital was called Harefield.
I remember vividly the night before Catherine was to leave for the hospital. I can still see her eyes earnestly looking into mine as she told me as a little 4-year-old that she was going away. She said that she wouldn’t be coming back and told me to look after Mummy and Daddy for her.

She knew she was going to die.

But she also told me where she was going… “I’m going to be with Jesus” she told me ‘”but I will see you again in a little while.” Then she laughed and stuffed her foot in my face saying “smell my stinky feet” and the serious part of the conversation was over.

When she didn’t come back I felt desolate. The operation had been successful but it was too much for her little body to stand and so she never regained consciousness.
I remember it was the summer of 1976. We both had pushchairs and I placed them side by side in the long stretch of scorched lawn and pushed mine forward first a little and then my sisters a little trying to somehow will her back by my side. I remember the aching, the confusion, the loneliness.

And then something happened…

A bright light. I looked up and immediately fell on my knees as the sky seemed to open, and for a few moments, I saw a glimpse what I knew even as an “un-churched 4-year-old” to be Heaven.

I believe God reached out to me in my sorrow and showed me it “was ok” and that Catherine was safe and happy and in the most beautiful place I could ever imagine.
In dark moments after then I would wish with all my heart I could die too, to be with her, but somehow I got through these times (I believe God held my hand through them) and that vision was something that I held onto as I was growing up until finally at University I gave my life to the Lord.

And now I find myself to some extent in my Mother’s shoes…with a seriously ill child who is “life limited.” In this journey with her and my faith which after a bit of a blip is now stronger than ever. When my little girl leaves this place I don’t just believe…I KNOW where she will be going, I know she will be safe and loved and will wait for me. I know her brother is already there waiting to meet her.

I walked into the Christian bookshop looking for a completely different book and suddenly this particular one seemed to jump off the shelf at me. I bought it actually thinking of a dear friend who had lost a daughter, knowing in my heart that God wanted her to read it and that it would offer some comfort. When I began reading it I just couldn’t put it down. Some of the things this little nearly 4-year-old talks about are EXACTLY the same as what I saw in my vision. He doesn’t mention specifically the beautiful rolling fields, the trees but he mentions the colours, the vibrancy and the rainbow coloured horse.

I realize that it’s a Christian book but even if you don’t believe…give it a try. Read it with the simple innocence of a child and guarantee you will be touched by it too.

Submitted by Caroline from Seraphina’s World

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Wacky Wednesdays

I thought that today I would share a favorite childhood memory of mine. It was Wacky Wednesdays. The first Wednesday of the month! My father would take my sister and I to “dinner” and we ordered dessert before dinner! So where did we go? Friendly’s! For the reeses pieces sundae!

Besides the fact that my sister and I loved this concept I think it worked out really well for my father because we were too full for a real meal. I do remember sometimes we’d order something and it would come home with us in a box but other times we would just have a sundae and then a sandwich or cereal later on at home.

Have a fun childhood memory you’d like to share? Go to the submit page and I’ll get it posted as soon as possible or feel free to leave a comment!

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Comfort in a cup

I’m starting my morning with a nice hot cup of tea – like I do most mornings. I must have it just a specific way. If I go anywhere overnight I’ll sometimes bring my tea bags with me because most other brands just don’t compare. I have an aunt that comes to visit often and she says that I make the perfect cup of tea. She teases that she wants to know my special ingredient. I always tell her that I won’t share. She’ll just have to come visit. Really though it’s just the brand of tea bag, in my opinion.

Isn’t it funny how we can find comfort in something as small as a cup of tea? Sometimes it gives me the time I need to reflect on a nice memory or think about hopes that I have. If that’s not comforting; I don’t know what is.

As a young girl there were times that I was at my grandmother’s house in the morning either on a school break or during the summer. We always had a cup of tea and a bagel together and shared so much on those mornings. When I was at home and it was a school day I’d make my cup of tea and call and talk to her on the phone for 10 minutes each morning. I think that is what started to make me love tea so much.

This morning my mug is an oversized one with a very pretty design. Inside it says live*love*laugh. I have a feeling that the person that gave me this knows just how much a nice soothing cup of tea can brighten my day.

Lately my mornings are spent enjoying this caffeine at home before my little one wakes up for a very busy morning. Not all that long ago I was enjoying my morning beverage at work. I’d bring my nice mugs from home. I’d get to work, turn on my computer, my radio, listen to voicemails and make my tea. Usually I was catching up on emails while having tea – a couple mornings a week my tea would come with me into meetings. Sometimes I already knew that there would be issues discussed that I wasn’t looking forward to but my tea was there. Something to hold on too. It was at times something that would give me just what I needed to not react to something that I didn’t agree with negatively; sometimes it gave me strength I needed to stand up for something I believed was important to my department.

Everywhere you go people seem to have something to drink with them. On television many shows have a café where everyone meets for coffee or tea. Actually lattes and macchiatos are more popular now. On Frasier I think it was Café Nervosa; Friends hung out at Central Perk – those are just two of many. How many movie scenes are in a coffee-house or diner? Too many to mention! There is a reason Barnes & Nobles and Borders opened with large cafés inside. It’s just what makes sense; it’s comforting.

What is something little that brings you great comfort? If you haven’t incorporated it into your day yet today – be sure to – you deserve it!

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Mother & Child

{this is one of those posts where you will learn something about me – one of my “stories”}

The time has come. I am a mom and I have officially spent more time with my baby than my mother spent with me. (She passed away at the young age of 26) I think about the new things that my baby has done recently and all the things that are still to come. It makes me terribly sad to realize just how much my mother missed with me. She definitely got a bunch of smiles out of me and I imagine some good laughs but there is a real possibility that she never heard me say “momma” – it just doesn’t seem right. And to have a child and never hear the words I love you from that child. That doesn’t seem so fair. One of the reasons I always wanted to be a mom was to be able to do the things she was never able to do. And now it’s happening.

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