Breathing Through Another Tragedy

My husband and Josh scoping out their family farm. April '11

My husband is a youth pastor. Monday night, Nov. 21st, one of his students died. The student's name is Joshua Leo. Josh made a bad decision, experimenting with the high you get when one passes them self out. What he didn't know, is that it was going to end in a permanent fatal mistake. All this has broken all the hearts that knew Josh. It didn't make sense, it didn't seem fair, it crushed the hearts that were closest to him, it brought sorrow to anyone that heard of it.
Josh was a great kid. He was 13, and in 7th grade, which meant that he was just starting youth group this year, allowing us to get to know him better. He was a wild card with a permanent smile on his face. He had his hand in everything, from sports, to arts, to music, to volunteering, to destruction, to creation. ;) He loved so quickly and willingly. Everyone that knew him, loved him instantly. He was just one of those kids.

His death brought so many things to my husband and I. There were so many elements involved that made this situation extremely "stretching" for us.

There was a bit of history with this family. I will not post details, because that would be disrespectful of me, but I will tell you that there was a conflict that came about that separated us from Josh's parents. A conflict that had nothing to do with us, but effected us. In consequence, we hadn't spoken to the parents in months prior to Josh's death. But of course, even with this element, Josh still came to youth group to learn more and be in fellowship with other believers. What a grace-filled young man.

When we found out that Josh had died, our hearts were so heavy. We both cried so much, and were deeply grieved not only about Josh, but about the fact that we didn't feel that we could comfort this family with our own arms. We did not know if they would feel our hugs as if it were poison. So we waited, praying fervently for an open door. After a day of no answer, I decided I would plan to go see his mom, who, at one point, was my good friend, hoping that she'd remember my love for her. 2 days after hearing of Josh's death (the day I planned on going to see them), Josh's father called my husband, and through his tears, asked him to officiate his son's funeral. We both cried humbling tears, knowing that God had answered our prayers, and is allowing us to come and love on them. So my husband and I, together, went to see them.

I can't even explain the scene. If you've lost someone extremely close to you, you will already know the suffocating feeling of despair. If you haven't, then all my words would be just words.... for now.

Death like this can make a tall strong man crumble into his own lake of tears. Death like this can make a mother question the very nurturing woman that God intended her to be, raising doubt, if she even deserved her children. Death like this can make a sibling either step into a position that makes them the rock for this family or it can create an angry shell of guilt and confusion.

We spent time with the family on several occasions, hugging them, crying with them, listening to their stories, and one night, while reminiscing about birth stories and childhood stories, threw us into belly laughter that created the oasis before the harsh days ahead filled with services.

As my husband and I trotted along this whole situation, we, ourselves, were sent into roller coasters of emotion.  Not only were we humbled by reconciling with this family once again, we were honored to be a part of this family and to be a part of honoring Josh in this way. Not only were we grieving Josh, but we were grieving Sarah, my dad, and my cousins. Not only were we horrified for the family members that had to see Josh in the condition that he was when he died, but we were remembering the horror around the deaths that we experienced as well. I remember when Brad, my cousin, died, his wife had to bust down the door that was locked between them. Josh's brother had to bust down a board to get his brother down from where he was, so he could start CPR. We had to handle Sarah's body as we desperately tried to bring her back, this family handled Josh's body as they desperately tried to bring him back. There were similarities that we could understand, but could not imagine grieving the very loss that they specifically were feeling. Another element to all this was the fact that my husband has never officiated a funeral before. This would be his first. The only other experience he has, speaking at a funeral, was giving a sermon at our daughter's funeral.

The visitation was overwhelming. People stood in line for 2 hours, just to give their love to this family. At one point I asked the parents how they were doing. The mom started crying once again, and said, "I'm feeling so much love here." That warmed my heart, knowing that the body of Christ was at work. For 6 hours, they stood there, crying, and being embraced by all these people who cared for them.

The funeral was beautiful. The stories that were being told, were so nice to hear. Some were sad, lots were funny. There was this particular young boy that went up, with all his bravery. Cried, and told us how great of a kid Josh was, and that his parents did a great job raising their son. That meant the world to these parents. There was not one person that didn't mention Josh's persistent smile. My husband gave a good sermon, embracing the moment that Josh's parents and we wanted to soak up while this tragedy set into all the young hearts in the room. This was the road that God paved so we could reach these young naive hearts. He already had Josh's heart, now He was using him more than ever. Even someone's death can be used to arouse the living. That's the beauty of life in Christ. Josh does live because of the blood of Jesus. That is where our hope is, and that's the message that we want to spread. Because of Love, there is Life.

Being at the burial site, was hard. There was a part at the end, where we sat in silence, listening to my husband play his guitar quietly, and everyone gazed upon Josh's beautiful wooden box that held his cremated remains. His oldest sister passed around beautiful red roses to various people. Her coming towards me, I humbly received one, once again, feeling honored to be a part of such a fellowship.

Most of everyone left after a bit, leaving Mom and Dad, oldest daughter, my husband and I, and the funeral director. As the funeral director uncovered Josh's grave, his oldest sister handed his box to her mother. They set the box down into the ground. I'll never forget this moment. His mother, with one hand on her son's precious box with his remains inside, her face planted on the ground above, she wept great painful tears. Her husband, Josh's father crying with her, with his hand on her back, kneeling opposite her.

What a painful moment. What a beautiful moment. Pain, in all it's beauty, grief in all it's glory, oneness....

I watched them as they held each other, and I saw a piece of God. They were breathing......

 

Josh trying to get Tesh to accept a kiss from their lamb. April '11

I was taken back by my caption that I just posted under this picture. How fitting. Josh's life and death is being used by God to get His children to accept a kiss from His Lamb.