Posts Tagged Tom
Happy Birthday to Me (Tom, Pictures)
Posted by Tom in Uncategorized on September 4th, 2010
I had a great 40th birthday yesterday. I wanted to return to the decade of my youth, so we had an 1980s-themed party. Deb let her creative juices flow, and made a Pac-Man cake with a game board that used cupcakes for dots. Many friends stopped by to wish me well, and I appreciate every one of them.
My letter jacket--for the sake of all involved, I didn't try it on.
This was the Pac-Man board that Deb created.
If it wasn't for Atari, I wouldn't have a job today.
I had completely forgotten about the preppie fad. Thanks, Eric!
Before the iPod, there was the Walkman. And in that Walkman, there was Night Ranger.
One highlight was a game of 80's trivia.
If Eric went preppie, then Joe went the other direction: mullet, muscle shirt and Zubaz.
Deb & Me
Thank you to everyone who helped make this birthday memorable (and fun).
Where’s the Bug Spray? (Tom, Taking Stock)
Posted by Tom in Uncategorized on October 10th, 2009
Weird dream time.
This morning, I dreamed that I was in a classroom, in some kind of science class. The teacher wanted me to hold something for him. When I took it, I realized that it was a cockroach. A big one, about the size of my hand. And it hissed, constantly. The teacher was going to take it away from me and put it in a container, but he seemed to be taking his time getting ready to relieve me of the roach. All the time, I had to hold it with both hands, as it continued to hiss at me, warning me that it wished to be let go.
Needless to say, I did not appreciate this “gift”. I knew that it was temporary, and that I had to trust the instructor. I also knew that it was imperative that I hold it correctly. If I held it too loosely, I was going to be hurt. If I held it too tightly, I would crush the creature, and the instructor would be disappointed with me. He had a purpose for me holding this, and picked me personally, whether or not I was comfortable with it.
The alarm went off before I had a chance to finish the dream; I was glad to discover that I did not have possession of a giant hissing cockroach.
I’m guessing that it was a way for my mind to express the tension I’m under with our situation. God has called me to gently and carefully hold on to the experience and grief of losing a beloved child. He has a purpose for it. There are times where I feel I want to let go and let the grief have its way with me. Other times, I want to crush it out of my life. However, if I do either, it will interfere with (but not stop) His purpose.
Or, I just need to watch what I eat before bed. Take your pick.
I Said It 16 Years Ago… (Tom, Taking Stock)
Posted by Tom in Uncategorized on October 10th, 2009
…and I’ll say it again. It’s not supposed to snow in October. It’s just…wrong.
And for those you who have been in Minnesota longer than Deb & I: yes, we’ve heard about the Halloween ’91 blizzard. No, we were not here for it. Thank Heavens.
I’ll probably do another post today. Stay tuned.
Pushing Back the Clock (Tom)
Posted by Tom in Uncategorized on September 4th, 2009
I just got driver’s license renewed. I passed the eye exam without my glasses.
Take that, 39!
To Do: 1. Breathe… (Taking Stock, Tom)
Posted by Tom in Uncategorized on June 13th, 2009
Hendersonhome.net moved to new host? Check.
Deb’s blog set up? Check.
New blog software installed for Tom? Check.
New welcome page uploaded? Check.
Great! New writing commences in 3…2…1…
*Crickets chirping in the background*
The creative streak I was enjoying just hasn’t been coming lately. And it’s not that I want to write, as much as I want to want to write The drive that was in me months before has quietly excused itself, and I’ve really been noticing it lately, like when you realize that a friend has left a party early without saying goodbye.
Why?
Two possibilities come to mind, and I believe that they are related:
The suffering has changed. I’m not saying that things are fantastic, mind you. There are still days where the major accomplishments are that I’m breathing and vertical. I miss my son more than I miss my marbles, and each morning is a stark reminder that he’s not with me.
It’s that the suffering has changed. The adrenaline isn’t pumping, the searching for God’s will and mercy has ceased. We’ve gone from a battle to what feels like a desert wandering.
My input has changed. I’ll be honest: I’m spending my free time differently than I used to. My craving for entertainment tends to get the better of me lately. I used to look forward to spending time in scripture, but lately it’s more effort than enjoyment. My prayer time has suffered as well.
I believe that the two are tied together. When Ian was in the midst of his suffering (and, as his parent, I was suffering as well), I was much more dependent on my Lord. I sought Him out, and cherished my time with Him as a source of comfort and healing. Now, it feels more like a passive-aggressive relationship, at least on my part. Are there unresolved anger issues? Quite possibly. However, what hasn’t changed..
God is good. I would have despaired unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living. (Ps. 27:13) His goodness is not my goodness (thank Goodness).
God’s grace will not fail. In my humanness, I keep wanting to measure and box God’s grace so that I have an understanding of it. Every so often I find myself asking my Lord, “I’ve ignored you for so long…do you mean to tell me that you still long for me?” The answer is a resounding “yes!”. He understands me better than I can imagine. He knows my condition, both as a human as well as a person who is in grief, and is patient with me.
He is not finished with me. This is where my emotions tend to betray me, and the enemy seeks to rob my joy. Too often lately both Deb and I fight the feeling that we have been put on a shelf, and there isn’t anything else for us to do; life will be endured, nothing more. I am still breathing, therefore my time here is not yet complete.
To this end, I’m currently working through Focus of a Warrior. It’s my desire to have a defined direction in life, and got has supplied FOAW as the means.
At any rate, now that the new blog software is in place, and as the healing continues, I want to write more. It’s not a hopeless cause, though. I’m in the middle of The Ragamuffin Gospel by Brennan Manning; the main thrust seems to be “God has more grace for me than I can imagine, and it has nothing to do with me…Thank God.” Also, Deb and I are going to go see Rob Bell’s presentation Drops Like Stars in August.
Between the two of those, there’s got to be a post somewhere…
Still Here? (Taking Stock, Tom)
Posted by Tom Henderson in Uncategorized on April 18th, 2009
Is anyone still here?
I’m sure that anyone who has been reading this blog (thank you, both of you) would ask the same thing. It’s been a month since I last put anything up, in Internet time, that’s an eternity.
I wasn’t intentionally not blogging, but any post I thought about, I mentally edited until I had myself convinced that it wasn’t worth typing. Nevertheless, I remember that when I was posting regularly, I felt better. I was doing better. I have fallen off numerous wagons over the few months, and it’s time to get back on them, one by one.
How Am I?
I’m…still grieving. This shouldn’t come to anyone’s surprise. And I know that the events of the past year will never completely heal. That’s just the way we’re made. And yet, I’m ready to stop hurting. I’m not trying to forget Ian; I look at pictures and video too much for that to happen. But, I’m just tired of the grief and the emotional pain.
To that end, I’ve been letting myself get very distracted. Everyone has their own addictions. Mine is entertainment. A month ago, in a moment of weakness, I bought an XBox 360. A more accurate term for this device would be “time sink”. It didn’t help matters that one of the first games I purchased was perhaps the most engaging game I have every played. Only lately have I been able to consciously not turn the blasted thing on when I have a few free moments. And it doesn’t help that the thing will play Netflix movies over the ‘Net.
What Am I Doing?
I’m busy in other areas. I’ve started Phase II of Heart of a Warrior, called Focus of a Warrior. It’s a nine month program that is designed to help me narrow down why I’ve been put on this earth. Also, I’m back playing bass (and, hopefully, other instruments) in the music ministry at our church. There are house projects galore that are being addressed. Oh, yeah–and my job is in the busiest season of the year.
What Has Been My Input?
I’ve been reading, at least as much as I ever have. I finished Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller fairly quickly. I also buzzed through Velvet Elvis by Rob Bell. At the moment, I’m reading unChristian by David Kinnaman and Gabe Lyons. All three of these books seem to be God’s way of telling me that a change is coming.
The biggest part of me wants to put This Bloody Season behind me and rest. I’m tired, and I want to relax. I want to stay in my basement, enjoy my little addiction and let the world rot. It has disappointed me; I’ll just wait for the next one, thank you very much. But that’s not what I signed up for. And, ultimately, I know that it won’t satisfy or bring me joy. Happiness, yes. But, to paraphrase C.S. Lewis, if I want happiness, I can go find it in a bottle of beer and a game. Ultimately, I do want more. Or, more accurately, I want to want more.
To that end, the next book in my queue is When I Don’t Desire God by John Piper. I’ve read the first chapter, and immediately backed off. I recognized that this book cannot be read then put aside, at least if I want to gain anything from it. I’m going to have to read this one slowly, and mentally chew on it. I’ll probably approach it like I did my penultimate life-changing book, Victory Over the Darkness by Neil Anderson. If it’s going to do me any good, I will need to read each chapter two or three times, highlighting and making notes in the margin as I go. I’ll need to write down questions for myself. The bottom line is that either God (not his creation, but God Himself) is not only able to satisfy, but will bring me the highest form of joy, or not. I believe the question for that one is answered by only me. Am I willing to forgo other pleasures in order to find my complete joy in Him?
I guess I’ll find out. I told a friend about this book, and she requested that I blog about it as I read it. I can see that being a helpful way to process through the material. So, I guess you will find out, too.
PS — If you clicked on some of the book links above, then I hope you’ll agree; Amazon owes me something…
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…
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.
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.
Small Mouse, Big Dreams (Tom, Pictures)
Posted by Tom Henderson in Uncategorized on December 19th, 2008
We just got back from seeing The Tale of Despereaux. It’s a great kid’s movie, with many timeless messages. It touches on courage, chivalry, honor and the power of forgiveness.
And, yes, Elaine–as you can see, we took Ian’s little Despereaux with us. Ian thought that it was hilarious when the mouse used his enormous ears to glide, and recreated that scene all the way home.
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