Archive for February, 2009
This Bloody Season (Tom, Graces and Mercies)
Posted by Tom Henderson in Uncategorized on February 18th, 2009
I guess I’m ready to write this post, now.
For anyone who hasn’t been paying attention, Ian went to be with our Lord at Midnight on Thursday, February 19th. He left peacefully, and for that we are grateful.
I guess I’m handling things much better than I had ever imagined. Before we ever knew about the tumor, I always put an event like this into a strictly theoretical, almost academic light. If something were to happen to Ian, then I would give myself permission to completely lose it. “Losing it” took any number of self-destructive behaviors that I don’t need to go into now. Suffice to say that if I were to do that, I would no longer care about my wife, my relationship with God, my friends and family, much less myself.
But, that’s not where I find myself right now, and I’m surprised. I remember the emotional minefield that I was walking back in May, when we received our initial diagnosis. Holding my composure became all I could do. Every so often, I would trigger an emotional mine and the grief would overtake me. Eventually, I stopped fighting it and allowed myself to weep when it occurred, so that the pain wouldn’t be prolonged.
In November, when we received news that the tumor was regrowing, I found myself in the same minefield, but this time I knew how to walk it better. As Ian continued to change and decline, I discovered, my grief having found its outlet, that I was better able to take care of him. In this past week, I came to the point where I could honestly ask God for His mercy, knowing what that meant. Until that point, I was clinging to my little boy, hoping for a healing but willing to keep him in his broken state, just for my own selfishness.
Now, Ian is running on legs that are stronger than any decathelete. He sees more clearly than anyone on this Earth ever has, taking in colors that I have never imagined. He is hearing music sung to the Lord of Hosts that is woven with tones more exquisite than anything conceived here. He is becoming acquainted with people who have loved him before he was born, and at least one or two that loved him in this world.
Most of all, he is in the presence of the One who made him, the One who loved him first and the One who loves him best. If scripture is to be believed…and it is…then Ian, in his new body, has met Jesus, in His redeemed body. To say that Ian is in the presence of the Lord is not a mystical concept, nor is it third-person. I have been in the presence of Paul Simon and Bono in that we were in the same room with one another, but that room was huge, and there was no interaction. Those men were not conscious of me in any way. On the other hand, Ian is in the presence of the King of Creation, who is intimately aware of Ian’s presence, and was excited for this to occur. They are together in the same way as when he and I would lock arms in a hug: bodily, emotionally and spiritually. On Thursday morning, Ian fulfilled that for which he was created, and the desires of Yahweh were complete: The King of the universe was finally in perfect communion with His beloved creation.
I realize that when I mourn, I mourn for myself. As a father who has lost intimate contact with his son, I have a dim insight into how God has mourned for the relationship He desires with each of us until we are reconciled through Christ. I have not “lost” my son, and it’s unfortunate that term is often used out of convenience. The only thing lost is contact, and even that is temporary. We have merely prepared and sent him ahead to the new home where we will meet again.
* * *
I’ve titled this post This Bloody Season, and that is what I have come to call the last nine months. “Bloody” was the most polite way I came up with to accurately describe how I feel. I haven’t used the phrase here, because it denotes an anger that I didn’t want broadcast to the world. This Bloody Season is now coming to a close.
But, after next weekend, This Bloody Season will start to fade, and the next one will dawn. Deb and I have wondered both individually and together what the next season will look like. We will have more freedom, but we are different people than we were before Ian was born. I’m sure that we will travel more. Hopefully, we will watch TV less (and at least watch better content.) Now that God has removed some dreams but fulfilled our biggest one, we wait for Him to give us new ones.
Update: If I were to make a bet, then I would guess that a trip to Colorado is in the future. And Bermuda…
I Want to Remember
Posted by Tom Henderson in Uncategorized on February 17th, 2009
Last night, we watched videos and looked at pictures of our Make-a-Wish trip to Florida. The little boy we saw there is almost nothing like the one sleeping in the next room. The Ian we took to Florida was so much closer to the one I remember from before last May. In the coming months, I will be pouring through stacks of video tapes, trying to get them copied to our hard drives. I’m hoping that as I go back through the years, I will remember more clearly the little boy that he was.
I want to remember the little boy who wanted me to time him running around our house, and tried to do it faster each lap. I want to forget the little boy who cannot stand anymore.
I want to remember the little boy who enjoyed singing, not the one who struggles to speak a couple of words.
I want to remember the little boy who had a permanent sparkle in his eyes, not the one who stuggles to see my face.
I want to remember the little boy who couldn’t wait to be done with supper so that we could play, and forget the one who only feels hunger, and is never satisfied.
I want to remember that Ian, so that when I see him again, I’ll recognize him.
Benefit Information (Graces and Mercies)
Posted by Tom Henderson in Uncategorized on February 13th, 2009
Friends at the company where I work (Data Recognition Corporation) have organized three benefit opportunities for our family:
- CiCi’s Pizza in Plymouth has graciously agreed to host a day where you can eat pizza for Ian! On Wednesday, February 18th, if you mention the Ian Henderson benefit at the register, CiCi’s will donate to our benefit fund.
- On February 23rd, a raffle will be held! Prizes include: a $50 movie gift certificate, a Nikon CoolPix S202 camera, an iPod Nano, and a Nintendo Wii!
- A silent auction will also be held on February 23rd. Items up for bid include rounds of golf, a muskie fishing trip, jewelry and more!
Information about these opportunities can be found at http://ianhendersonbenefit.shutterfly.com/.
Update: If you do not live in the Minneapolis/St. Paul area, but wish to participate in either the auction or the raffle, please contact Julie Albertson at 612-327-5972, or at albertsons@comcast.net. Thanks, Julie!
Our Laughing Place (Ian, Tom)
Posted by Tom Henderson in Uncategorized on February 7th, 2009
It seems like every time I wake up, I have forgotten how much of Ian has become inaccessible to us. He’s every bit as much there as he’s always been; it’s just his body that’s changed. Last night, for possibly the last time, he actually smiled and giggled a little bit.
He tried smiling on Friday morning. I looked at his face, and he seemed to have an expression of exertion, as if he was using all of his strength to do something. “What’s wrong?” I asked. “Nothing” he said, “I’m…trying…to…smile…at…you.” Each word is strained, as his speech center struggles to activate the necessary muscles. As our conversations grow increasingly one-sided, I’m learning the treasure each word, and let him make them count. That last sentence was priceless for me.
Later that evening, we were talking about food (that is a common topic these days). We were joking with each other that each of us was going to take all of…something. I can’t remember what. But what I will remember is that he actually smiled, and laughed a little. For the briefest moment, my little boy was back with me, and we were laughing together.
I can’t remember the last time that happened. I’m also afraid that it will be the last time this side of eternity.
No Ship Coming In (Graces and Mercies)
Posted by Tom Henderson in Uncategorized on February 4th, 2009
We’ve all seen it: At the climax of a movie, when everything seems hopeless, the heroes are rescued in a big, big way. At the end of Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers*, when the heroes are completely hemmed in by the forces of Isengard (the bad guys), Gandalf shows up at dawn with the Riders of Rohan to defeat the enemies (it’s the Middle Earth equivalent of the cavalry riding in to save the day, only much cooler). In Raiders of the Lost Ark, wrath of God saves Indy and Marion from certain execution. When all hope seems lost, and the stakes are the highest, there’s part of us that believes the rescue should be huge and grand, completely eclipsing whatever was threatening us.
That’s what I keep waiting and praying for. I want the supernatural equivalent of a battleship group to show up. Something big, wiping away any doubt of the source of healing. But that hasn’t happened, yet. What I’m getting is more like oxygen. God’s grace seems to be surrounding us, sustaining us…but it hasn’t delivered us at this point.
I’m quick to forget the multitude of small miracles in my expectation of the big one. It seems like
our Lord is showing up on a daily basis, and many times I don’t bother to say “thank you” for the little things, or at least not acknowledge them enough.
Case in point: yesterday, we met with Ian’s hospice team. Instead of one difficult topic, we got a whole parcel of them. This was an exhausting time, both emotionally and physically (outings are becoming increasingly difficult). Afterwards, we were tired, hungry and in desparate need of a change of mood. So, Ian and I made the decision that we were going to Red Lobster for supper. After we ordered, the manager informed us that someone, who wished to remain anonymous, paid for our meal. Very unexpected, and considering that there were four of us, not insubstantial. If, by some chance, you were the anonymous benefactor, please accept our heartfelt thanks.
And blessings like the one described above happen with regularity. We don’t expect them, and I pray that we never do. I still pray for the big miracle, the healing that will silence my doubts about God’s love and power. But, like mortar that holds together a building made of bricks, what if God’s grace instead is dispensed freely, filling in our myriad of cracks and holding us together? Does that make it any less miraculous?
*The second in the trilogy of Best Movies Ever. I’m sorry, it’s my blog, there’s no debate.
Just One More Afternoon (Tom, Ian, Graces and Mercies)
Posted by Tom Henderson in Uncategorized on February 2nd, 2009
On Sunday, I had the kind of afternoon that I’ve had at least a hundred times before. I’m going to miss them terribly.
I wanted to get Ian out for a while, so I decided that he and I would go to Target to find something for him to spend his allowance on, then head to a park for a walk (or, I guess, a roll.)
We packed a backpack full of stuff that we thought it would be good to have with us, just to be safe. As the contents grew, it reminded me of when Ian was much smaller, and we would have a diaper bag packed at all times.
When Ian was a toddler, deb worked 2-3 nights/week at the local mall. Often, the boy & I would go there and wander around. It gave us something to do, and it allowed mother and son to say “goodnight” to each other. He and I had our regular stops at the shopping center, almost on a schedule: We would get a stroller and say “hi” to Deb, then makes our rounds (KayBee Toys, the other toy store, Air Traffic, GameStop, then get a pretzel). He would eat his share of the pretzel and tell Deb about his evening, followed by home and bed.
Later, he and I would branch out for grander outings. Edinborough, parks in summer and Chuck E. Cheese were places I could take him for an afternoon or evening adventure. We were just a couple of guys out having fun.
Anyway, we wandered around Target for a while. The more toys Ian looked at, the more he said “I’ll have to save up for that.” I had to resist the impulse to buy him whatever he wanted. We both settled for a new lightsaber. (After all, he has only four of them, and only one other blue one. Besides, this one lights up! And it makes sounds!) We also grabbed a new dice game, and a set of 3-D glasses for the Superbowl commercials.
At the park, I bundled the boy up, but forgot my gloves. The air temperature wasn’t bad, and being in the sun was great. It’s been a long winter, with too many grey skies. But the wind picked up, and we both agreed that we had had enough fresh air. How about going for a drive? That sounded good; we just weren’t ready to be home yet. I started off with no particular destination in mind. Just a chance to be side by side, still in the sun.
I took his left hand and held it. One of the issues he’s been dealing with is that he doesn’t feel much of anything in his left side anymore. He’s got strength there, but it doesn’t do him much good without the feedback that sensation would give him.
“Can you feel my hand?”
“A little.”
“Is it OK if I just hold it?”
“Yeah.”
And so we drove for a little while, my hand holding his. It wasn’t doing much for Ian, but I’ll take what I can get.
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