To whomever raked our yard today:  Thank you.  This was the day that we should have done it ourselves, but we had already signed up for a small group leader’s conference.  Neither of us were looking forward to raking in the rain tomorrow, but now we don’t have to.

Thank you for the gift of a restful sabbath.

Tom & Deb

If you are intentional about your prayer life, please keep in mind a good friend of mine, Denice (Denni) Caid. Denni and I met in college, and served in the Student Baptist Fellowship (a.k.a. MegaLife) at Southern Illinois University, Carbondale. She and I let worship (Denni sang, I strummed random chords on my guitar; somehow, God made it work), and generally made life enjoyable. Because of the good times we shared, I consider her closer to a sister.

In 1993, our little cadre of friends moved away from Southern Illinois to forge our lives. I went north (to Minneapolis), and Denni went south (to Phoenix). We started careers, met and married spouses, and did our best to keep in touch via email and the occasional phone call.

I must have missed an email somewhere, because I read some devastating news in her blog, News From the Great Beyond. In 2001, Denni married a wonderful man named Jason Caid. I had the opportunity to meet him shortly before they were joined. I spently only a couple of hours with them, but I could see that he truly loved her, and was making her very happy. From the emails and posts, it was clear that Jason loved his Lord, and served to the best of his ability.

Tonight, I read the awful news that Jason has passed away unexpectedly. I’ll let you read the details here. The only thing I could think to do was to call Denni and offer to pray with her. I’m asking anyone who reads this to join me in lifting up Denni, Josh and Cherry (brother and sister-in-law), Jason’s mother and the rest of the family to God’s throne. At this moment, she’s experiencing the peace and grace that Deb & I experienced during our first couple of weeks after we got Ian’s diagnosis. I pray that God would continue to surround and support them.

It was odd to find myself saying some of the same things that people have been saying to Deb & I during our ordeal. Now being on both sides of tragic pain, I know how flat the words feel, as if all you have to offer is tepid, lukewarm water to someone who is dying. And yet, it feels like the words are all you have to offer. All you want to do is help make things better, or try to make sense out of the senseless reality. And, as someone who is in the middle of a grieving process, I know that all the recipient wants is for things to go back to normal. We want it more than anything, more than our next breath. What is now, is not normal. It feels like it will never be normal again. But that’s all you want.

I hope that this makes some sense. Denni, I saw what you and Jason had been working on through your blog posts and emails. I had fun leading worship with you, but it sounds like that was nothing compared to what you two were doing at your church. At this point, all I can say is “I’m sorry,” and that we are praying for you.