Another year older, another year is gone, and another year of missing you.Celebrating your birthday without you here is
simply not the same!Being that it’s
your birthday today, I love to reflect about ALL the things you did that
brought me joy during your short yet sweet life.
First and foremost, you were a beautiful human being.I loved your deep blue eyes with those dark
eyelashes.Your skin…you had the most
beautiful skin and would get the darkest tan!Hence, your nickname was the “tan man.”I remember someone asking your name once and you told him or her, “It’s
the tan man!”
There was this one time when we had a huge ice storm in
North Carolina.Dad thought it would be
a good idea to borrow the Jarvis’ chain saw to cut down all the dead branches.He then thought it might be a good idea to cut
down some trees.You always thought the
sun rose and set with your Dad, so you had to be right out there when he was
doing his “man thing.”He made you stand
back by another tree, maybe 15-20 feet away, while he cut down this tree.Well, that tree hit another dead tree that managed to fall right where you were standing and whack you on the head. It was like watching a big tree taking a seedling out! Dad grabbed you and brought you in with a deep head laceration.We hurried to the urgent care center where
they had to do 2 layers of stitches, administer antibiotics because of the deep wound, and
watch you for a mild concussion.I told Dad he needs to stick to fixing hearts
and that we hire people to cut down our dead trees!
This was such a traumatic event for Zach.So much so, that he wrote a story about it
for a school project.And, his teacher
had it bound into a book.It truly is a
keepsake that brings a smile and a little bit of a wince at the memory.I hope you enjoy sharing this memory with me.
Leaving you with some Coldplay words from their song “Everglow:”
The Heart of a Marathon Runner is unique, focused, and
driven.What drives these runners?What sparked their desire to (what I would
choose to call torment) run 26.2 miles?I know for one runner, Mark, that it is the opportunity to “run with our
angel.”The hours, the fatigue, the
miles, and the injuries, is it really worth it?For Mark, it is a resounding “Yes!”Hence, he wants to run the Boston Marathon… again!
I have attended every marathon Mark has run.And every time, I shed tears as he crosses
that finish line.The Boston Marathon
was no different last week.This
particular marathon, I went with my eyes and heart wide open.I was searching to find those “moments” that
would speak to my heart.I found them.
As I watched the first of the Men’s Wheelchair speed by, I
could not help but notice the drive he possessed to cross the finish line.It was touching.Then the first of the Women’s Wheelchair sped
by, her focus and skill were inspiring.As each of the wheelchair marathoner’s sped to the finish, the crowds
cheered, clapped, and even rang their cowbells to honor and praise their
accomplishments.Being a spectator at
that moment was incredible.
As the Elite runners came in, the crowds again roared with
cheers, clapping, and those awesome cowbells. (Yes, I possess many of
them!)They were inspiring as they ran
effortlessly; it seemed, across that finish line.
There are a few incidents that really touched me, and I want
to share them.First, there were many
marathoners who passed by who were struggling from leg cramps, physical
illness (vomiting/diahrrea~I could never run for fear that that would be me),
passing out, or legs giving out on them.
At this point in the race, these runners were only 1 ½
blocks from the finish line.Their medal
was in sight and nothing was going to keep them from crossing.As these particular runners passed by, the
spectators erupted in cheering as if we were willing them and giving them the
energy to keep going.The runners with
leg cramps found it within themselves to keep going and literally gimped along
until they either crossed or collapsed over the finish line.They had their goal in mind and they
accomplished it.
There were military men and women dressed in their fatigues
and boots running the race.Every
American cheered wildly for them.There
was the veteran amputee running who was carrying the American Flag the entire
26.2 miles.He was inspirational and
brought the Marathon crowds to cheering at a new record decibel level.
Then there was the moment when a man literally fell in front
of me.He simply could not get his legs
to keep him standing.Each of us
spectators that were standing in front of him and watching began to yell words
of encouragement~offering what we possibly could verbally to help him.It really was to no avail.EMT’s came up to him and offered to give him
a hand to help him up.He took their
hands, but he simply was unable to remain standing.He only had 1 ½ blocks to go.He turned to the oncoming runners, and as a
beggar, he put out his hand and quietly mouthed, “Help me.”There were many runners who passed by him.And then, two men stopped.They got on either side of this man and each
took one of his arms and put them around their necks.Those runners sacrificed their marathon time
in order to help this man.They lifted
him and carried him across the finish line.
I began to ponder that moment.We all need to get to that finish line.Many of us face different trials in
life.We need to keep perspective and
the drive to make our way through them.And occasionally, there are those good Samaritans who stop and offer
assistance through whatever ways they can.A thought came to me that I need to do more sacrificing in order to help
and lift others.I simply need to be
more Christ-like.
Of course, the climax was to see Mark coming toward me on
the street.I could see he was running
on empty, but pushing through to the end.He had the same goal every other runner had and that was to “cross that
finish line!”And, he did.Because, #herunswithourangel.
A little under five years ago, I had my first dream with
Zach in it.I remember a young man
coming closer and closer and my heart rate going faster and faster in
anticipation of seeing “who” the young man was.As he came into my view, I was so overcome with excitement, joy,
relief~I suppose I felt all the emotions that come from seeing someone you love
whom you have not seen in a very long time.When I reached up with the reality of being able to truly hug my son, I
awoke.Zach was in my dream.He came to see me.And with his handsome face and big beautiful
bright smile, his eyes seemed to penetrate my soul letting me know he was all
right and that he is near and watching over me.
Last January, early in the morning of my birthday, I had
another dream.I felt as if a child was
at my bedside.When I looked up, there
was Zach (probably around the age of 3-4) staring at me.He wanted to get into bed and snuggle, just
as he did when he was a little boy.I
opened the covers and he climbed right in and snuggled right up.Then, all of a sudden, he was deep into the
covers down by my feet, curled up into a ball staring up at me.I lifted the covers and asked him, “What are
you doing?”His darling little face,
bright smile, and with those sparkling blue eyes that seemed to penetrate my
soul again seemed to say, “I love you Mom.”From that dream I sensed yet again, Zach is near and our angel is
watching over us.
Just a few months ago, I had another dream of Zach.In my dream, I was showing a woman around a
place that is very special and sacred to me.I was explaining to her the different areas and sharing “why” each place
is significant and important to me.I
also shared that I began serving there shortly after Zach’s passing.This woman asked me “how” Zach died.I shared with her how he passed away.To which she replied, “That is so sad.”Our conversation continued by her asking me
if I see Zach when I am serving there.I
replied with, “Every time!” (Of course, I do not see him every time, but this
was in my dream).She then asked me, “Do
you see him now?”I looked across the
room we were in and there was Zach.Again, his countenance was as bright as the sun.He was lovingly staring at me as if to
reassure me he is always near.
Each of my children has had a dream with Zach visiting
them.My husband has had many dreams
with Zach visiting him.I believe dreams
are a way that loved ones can communicate with us.I also believe that the Spirit can
communicate through our loved ones those very things we need to know and things
we need to do.I love Elder Richard G.
Scott’s talk he gave in regards to personal revelation.And in this particular talk, Elder Scott
addresses dreams and their significance to each of us personally.I am attaching the talk if you are interested
in reading it.
One of Zach’s favorite Christmastime books was “The Polar
Express.” We love the movie and I especially love the song “Believe” by Josh
Groban.The lyrics of this song resonate
with me and speak to my soul.Specifically:
“Believe
in what your heart is saying
Hear
the melody that's playing
There's
no time to waste
There's
so much to celebrate
“Believe
in what you feel inside
And
give your dreams the wings to fly
You
have everything you need
If
you just believe”
At this time of year, I believe that our Father in Heaven
gave us the greatest gift, His Son, our Savior, Jesus Christ.I believe with all my heart that He provided
a way through the gift of His infinite atonement for us to be with our families
“forever” again.“Believe in what you
feel inside and give your dreams the wings to fly; you have everything you need…
if you just believe.”
As for now, I can see Zach… if only in my dreams.
Gone but not forgotten
Merry Christmas Zach!
And then, there are sweet angels who remember our Zach
I have been pondering this thought for a while and wanted to
write a few of my feelings on the topic.What are the three words you ask?“I love you.”Those three simple
yet powerful words have had a profound impact on my life.
I come from a long line of southern kissers, huggers, and
those that tell each other they love you often.My siblings, parents, grandparents, children, grandchildren, and even my cousins never fail to
express love to one another.When “love”
is present, there is a beautiful spirit that seems to bring a light to each and
every heart.
But, what if, the last words you say to someone you love are
“I love you?”What if that is the last
thing you were given by someone you love before they departed this Earth?Is that love something that could forever
change you?Is that love something you
were meant to have as a gift?Is it a
gift that would speak to the depths of your soul and lift you from the depths
of grief?Personally, I think love is
the key that unlocks and opens many doors.Doors of change, compassion, serving, helping, lifting, and the list
goes on.
Back in March of 1996, I received a phone call from a close
friend of my brother Tom.He told me
that Tom had been admitted to the hospital and the doctor told him that Tom
would not be leaving.Tom had gone in to
finish out his life in that hospital.
I flew out to be with my brother.He was in excruciating pain with his liver
failing and each subsequent system in his body beginning to shut down.My brother was not a member of our church,
but I know he thought a lot about it.As
I sat with him, he kept looking out his hospital window as if he was searching
for something.When I would ask him what
he was looking for, he would simply say, “Nothing.”A few hours had passed when he exclaimed,
“there it is!I knew it was out there
somewhere!”I asked him, “What is out
there?”The Dallas Temple.He then had me sit him up in order to look at
the Temple.There we sat in his hospital
room side by side, holding hands, and staring at the place where families can
be sealed together, forever.In that
tender moment, my brother knew I loved him and I knew he loved me.
As Tom began to fade into a coma, I aroused him enough in
order that I might say what would be my final good-bye.He held my hand and told me how grateful he
was that I loved him and supported him through thick and thin.And then, he told me how much he loved
me.That was the last thing he spoke to
me before he passed away.Those three
simple words were a gift that would carry me through the grief of losing my
brother.
Fast forward to July 3, 2000.I was sitting at our desk in the office that
evening.I had a recurring prompting to
call home.I questioned that prompting
as I had spoken to my mother just that morning, and really wondered “why” I
would receive that particular prompting.Mom wasn’t going to be home, but Dad was.I really didn’t want to call Dad, as he was
incredibly good at lecturing and offering unsolicited advice.Most of my siblings and mother will tell you
that I am, in fact, a very independent person coupled with a dose of a “Type A”
yet very “yellow” personality.
Yet, there I was with this prompting that was circling me
and beckoning me to, “CALL HOME!”Hence,
I called home. Dad answered.Quite honestly, that was one of the best and
most incredible conversations I had had with my Dad.Yes, he did offer his unsolicited
advice.But for whatever reason, I was
able to listen and actually accept what he had to say.Towards the end of our conversation, he told
me how proud of me he was.He told me
what a good mother I was.And, my Dad
told me how much he loved me.
Upon finishing my conversation with Dad after talking nearly
30 minutes, I began to think, maybe I simply needed to hear and know that my
Dad loved me.Honestly, the thought made
me smile and grateful I had called home.
On July 4th, the very next day at about 10am, I
received a call from my sister informing me that Dad had a heart attack.My sister explained that hospital personnel
had placed my family into a private room awaiting the doctor’s report.The physician finally came in and told them
that they had done everything they could and that my father had passed
away.My father was a career officer.Thus our soldier, our father, went to his
heavenly home on July 4th.
What if I hadn’t called home?What if I didn’t hear my father tell me how
proud he was of me?What if I didn’t
hear him tell me he loved me?What if I
didn’t listen to that prompting?Those
are a lot of “what if’s.”But the fact
of the matter is, I did listen.I did
call home.And, my last memory and
conversation was to hear that my father loved me.Those three simple words continue to bless my
life, as I often ponder that moment in time ~ “I love you.”
Now, let’s fast forward, again, to December 10, 2011.It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon and I
was busily getting the laundry caught up.I had a pile of Zach’s laundry to put away and went into his room to do
just that.Zach was in his room on his
computer.As I went to put his clothes
away, he turned to me and said, “Mom, I love you.”I looked at him giving him a raised eyebrow
questioning “why” he would so randomly tell me that, but I told him I loved him
too.I went into his closet and put his
clothes away.And as I came out, he got
up from his chair, came to me, put his arm around me, hugging me, and said,
“Mom, I really do love you.”
I well remember that his sweet declaration of not just once,
but twice, filling me up to where “my cup runneth over.”The very next day, December 11th,
Zach left this mortal existence.As I
have pondered Zach’s affirmation over and over and over again, how sweet and
profound those three little words have become in my life.I have those beautiful and simple words
deeply rooted and fixed to the depths of my soul.How grateful I am that my Zach left me with
this gift, his gift of love.He knew I
would need that gift to traverse through the depths of grief.
The gift of love is an emotion that one cannot begin to
describe, and yet we recognize it, feel it deeply, and it literally can fill us
with a joy beyond compare.I am grateful
for a family to love, and to have their love in return.What if just three words could bless your
life?I love you.Don’t let the opportunity pass you by…
“Love your family.
Spend time, be kind and serve one another. Make no room for regrets. Tomorrow
is not promised and today is short.”Unknown
“What can you do to
promote world peace? Go home and love your family.” Mother Theresa
Sometimes the light in Zach's room is so bright, I feel like he is there filling it up with light.
This is where I work on my genealogy and I know I have an angel helping me <3
