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A joyful noise . . . the last Reed’s Run

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I will sing to the LORD, for he has been good to me. Psalm 13:6 (NIV)

About this time last year, the first graders at Lakeview were learning to sing the National Anthem.  I don’t recall, but it might have had to do with curriculum on President’s Day.  One day, Clo came home and told us she could sing it.  All of us big people were more than skeptical.  Yet we entertained the possibility and listened.  She could do it.  Some of the words were wrong, but the tune was spot on.

As the months and weeks moved along in the countdown to the final run, we started to check off the preparations completed.  One box left open was the singing of the National Anthem for the opening ceremonies.  As we were preparing for the first team meeting, that conversation came up.  In the past, we have had friends including one of Reed’s best friends sing our country’s song.  We were considering asking a former classmate who has stayed in contact with our family.  When somewhat like the mouse that roared, our little Clo chimed in.  “I thought I was going to sing the National Anthem!”

You could have heard a pin drop.  Our thoughts: there would likely be a large crowd. Would nerves get the best of her? That is a hard song to sing.  Would she be able to do it well?  What about her hearing impairment?  What if she isn’t hearing well again in September? But quickly, we all realized that the hang-ups were ours, not hers, and since the run is about her big brother, it would probably be a forgiving audience.

cloie (3)For those that don’t know the background story, our littlest girl was born deaf.  She went an entire year of life before she heard a sound.  Thankfully, she has mechanical deafness caused by Eustachian tube defect.  She started having surgeries at the age of one to restore/correct her hearing loss.  To be able to sing is one thing.  To have excellent pitch is entirely another.

To ensure success, we enlisted the help of our neighbor (who Clo adores AND who happens to be a vocal music teacher).  From there, we just let her sing and sing and sing.  My ears will never get tired of it, because I remember the days of walking into her room in the morning.  She sat in her crib and didn’t have any idea I was there.  I remember the days of holding her and having her little hand on my throat because she somehow realized that there was a connection to my mouth moving and the vibrations she felt. I remember her not making sounds; so if she wanted to sing, we were going to let her.

She practiced.  She sang, and she sang some more.  Finally, came the big day! If she was nervous, she never let it show.  With a microphone held steady by me, she belted out the National Anthem as if her voice was strengthened by choirs of angels.  She nailed it.  It was so moving that many had tears in their eyes as a little 7-year-old girl sang to honor her country at an event to remember her biggest brother.

When she sang, it was more than a joyful noise . . . it was a healing balm to my soul.

Note: Unfortunately, her performance was not recorded in its entirety at Reed’s Run.  We do have her performance from Our Journey of Hope night (the annual remembrance of the anniversary) at our school.

A cross-country love . . . the last Reed’s Run

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amy1I will be the first to admit that social networking has its pitfalls.  I will stipulate that Facebook, Pinterest, and Twitter can be huge time drainers.  However, with eyes open wide to the pitfalls (of which I am prone) I also believe that my life has been enriched by the somewhat instantaneous connections with friends and family flung far and wide.  I love relationships and that feeling of connection.  I know it isn’t face to face conversation, and I agree cyber hugs pale in comparison to real embraces.  Yet, I love that in the past few years I have reconnected with family and friends that I haven’t seen in person in many, many years.

Several of those relationships have evolved over the years to being some of my sweetest friendships.  One of those sweet blessings is the deep friendship and adoration with our cousins in Washington.  Long distance, we cheer each other on through all of life’s ups and downs. Our relationship has gotten so close that we have even started our own language, recently coining the term “Pray-paring” in relation to how we should get ready for anything life.

When we first announced registration for Reed’s Run 2012, these same cousins became the first to register, albeit with a twist.  They were going to run the race remotely.  We were open to the idea, and we happily mailed them their t-shirts.  One of our cousins was so proud of her t-shirt; she immediately wore it to school the next day. (Again thankful for Facebook because that is where I saw the evidence.) They inspired a few more cousins and friends to do the same.  Their willingness to participate (in whatever fashion) made our hearts soar.

The night of the run, my sweet Amy, penned us the following letter to tell of how they had spent the day and how the remote run went.  She included all the pictures here.

Kandy

                It is with joy that I write to you to share about our Reed’s Run here in Washington.

                It was like waiting for Christmas morning.  The countdown began & quickly, day by day, it got closer.  The questions began. “Where should we run?” “When should we leave?” “What do we wear?”  Then the preparation began.  We got our light sabers first.  (We had to have them to bring the boy in Reed, the playfulness into our home.)  We got Gatorade ~ like it would somehow fuel our feet.  I think it was then that I realized I had “pray-pared” a lot more than I had prepared.  My heart was ready – the love overflowing – the joy and excitement contagious, but preparing physically – not so much.  Kayla hurt a tendon earlier in the week at drill practice & Sam came down with strep.  We wanted to do it as a group so we walked most of it & I was glad we did.

                I woke up Saturday morning to a grey sky & wet pavement.  Evidence of rain.  We have not had rain in about 2 months which, in Washington, is unheard of.  That is when I knew it was going to be a great day.  Courtney (Sam’s girlfriend) came early with donuts.  You need carbs to run you know. J I asked the children to help me with our “numbers”.  Because we weren’t in Minnesota, we decided to use the names of Reed, Emilee, Hunter, Jesse, and our flag as our race numbers.

                We drove to Ruston Way. A beautiful and most important flat road next to Puget Sound. J It was 67 F and sunny.  We prayed by Kelly’s truck as a group and started on our way.  I was surprised by the number of people who stopped & asked us what we were walking for.  (So I thank you with all my heart for the shirts).  It was an honor to share about Reed’s Run with them & everyone was touched by Reed’s life & his story.  We finished with tired feet but joy filled hearts.  What a gift it is do something nice for someone else.

Kelly & I took a few pictures & are sending them to you and your family.  We want you to have an idea where we were.  We wanted to bring a part of us to you. 

                I know that this is the last Reed’s Run, but I hope that you realize because you allowed us to be a part of this – we are forever changed.  We will now look for simple ways to bring God into others’ lives by showing others His love.  And every time we pick up our light sabers we will remember Reed. 

                Memories are beautiful part of God’s love & we have a beautiful memory of our special Reed’s Run day.

Love,

Kelly, Amy, Sam, Courtney & Kayla

amy2

Those that know me know I was a puddle of tears after reading this letter.  I still choke up reading it.  Of the multitude of reasons is the fact that our cousins love us and Reed enough to want to be a part (even their own special way) of our day.  But more so, they were an embodiment that Reed’s story (which is ultimately God’s story) has a far and reaching effect.  From what seems so senseless this side of heaven, God is using in ways that we can only imagine.

This time He used our cousins to help us see His bigger picture.

 

Note – the emphasized words in Amy’s letter are mine.  However, I truly believe that is the heart of healing.  Realizing that God has a purpose for us and often that purpose is to serve others may just be the secret to healing broken hearts.

 

How can it be five years? A letter to Reed

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Reed70To my sweet boy –

Reed, I woke up yesterday strangled by my emotions. Before I even lifted my head, I could feel that old familiar ache.  My heart literally hurt.  I longed to just hear your voice, to experience your laughter, to see the world through your beautiful blue eyes.  All the things I get to do with Sawyer, Erin, and Clo and I love each shared memory. Yet, I feel like the whole world can see the hole in my heart whenever I wish I had those moments with you.

Then come other times, when I really am truly happy. I almost surprise myself, because it’s at those times I feel guilty because I wonder if I am ever supposed to be happy again.  Conflicting emotions that don’t mix with what I know to be true.  You would never want us to be forever sad this side of heaven, but more importantly neither would God. Simply, He would want to remind us that this is not our forever home.  It is a lesson that we couldn’t forget if we wanted to, simply because even though we can’t deliver mail there we know your permanent address.

Five years ago, I never thought I would be sitting where I am now.  I want to be getting ready for your second prom, planning your graduation party and trip, and buying all the great things that you would need for college.  It just wasn’t meant to be a part of your story.

Just as grief is now a part of mine.  Heart crushing, sneak up on you when you least expect it, grief.  A pain so deep you never knew your heart had so many crevices and could hurt so badly.

But when things get so painful, I remember a sweet, red-headed boy whose whole life was defined by hope.  Not just a temporary hope. Oh no! A hope rooted in a love greater than any love that I have ever given. Inspirational was a boy who believed that love was greater than hate.  A boy who believed that turning the other cheek wasn’t just a saying. A boy who believed that those who hurt others were hurting themselves taught me a lot in just twelve short years. A deep faith, overflowing with love defined your life.

Sometimes, I think that you knew you were only going to be here for a brief stay.  You did nothing half-way.  You didn’t just read books, you devoured them.  You didn’t just learn something, you consumed it. And, you didn’t just love, you loved with abandon.

It is that hope, love, and faith that has helped us to remember, to cope (and sometimes heal), and to keep alive your legacy.  So that someday, we will all get to meet the ones whose lives your brief life touched.  Standing in the glorious, shining light of heaven, I can only imagine then that it will all make sense.

Waiting to hug you and hold you again, but always carrying you in my heart – Momma

6 days to go: To God & My Country

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Those who have attended previous Reed’s Runs know of a special ritual that we have each year.  The ritual is the placing of 12 American flags at the beginning of the race course.  Each flag is placed by a veteran that has a special place in our family or in Reed’s life.  We have had every military skirmish since World War II represented in that flag line.  Military operations, such as Black Hawk Down also known as the Battle of Mogadishu, and Desert Storm as well as Vietnam, Korea, and Iraq/Afghanistan are represented.  Seeing those 12 beautiful flags flying is one of the highlights of the day for this veteran’s wife.

Most do not know the background behind the significance of that simple recognition and placing of those flags.  Twelve flags – one for each year Reed lived – mark the path for the runners for the beginning and the finish of the race course.  The decision to continue this tradition each year has been because of an oath that Reed pledged at Boy Scouts.

The Boy Scout Oath

On my honor I will do my best
To do my duty to God and my country
and to obey the Scout Law;
To help other people at all times;
To keep myself physically strong,
mentally awake, and morally straight.

Reed’s faith is something that has been a core memory at each run, but his love of country is lesser known.  Reed was so proud of his dad, a veteran of Operation Desert Shield and Operation Desert Storm.  He took pride in his dad’s service, and he went out of his way to thank men and women in uniform.  It’s just something we do in this family.  But he took his love a little bit farther than most his age.

He was fully aware of some of the protests throughout our world, and he wasn’t opposed to the right to assemble.  He never minded when groups protested war, but it was a different story when people protested soldiers.  Then it was personal.  Reed was fully aware of the reception his adopted grandpa and football coach received when he returned from Vietnam.  He was equally aware of how much of a sacrifice military personnel make for each of us.  Protesting soldiers simply just made him mad.  We once had to practically sit on him when we accidently drove in the midst of a protest in Mankato and we were jeered because we were in a vehicle with veteran’s plates.  After that moment, Reed simply asked us to avoid any protests because it was too upsetting.

He wanted the whole world to understand that “no greater love hath a man than to lay down his life for his friends.” John 15:13 (ISV) He knew that the bench that sits at Lakeview school on the way to the Memory Garden wasn’t there to be pretty.  It represented a real Lakeview Laker. A real soldier. A real man. A real husband. A real son.  The bench is memory of Jason Timmerman.  Reed followed the story in school of how the street in front of the armory in Marshall was to be changed from Armory Drive to Timmerman Drive.  Every day, EVERY DAY, until I was almost exhausted from doing it, Reed begged and pleaded with us to drive by there until that sign was up.  He just had to see it.  When it finally changed, he was PROUD.

It is so easy to take something for granted, especially something as insignificant as a piece of cloth.  Not for those of us who understand that lives have been changed for that piece of cloth.  A whole lot of love and sacrifice and honor and duty are wrapped up in her waving beauty.  In one of his sweetest moments, Reed got down on his knee and explained to his baby sister when she was only 2 years old what a sea of flags represented at Mattke field.  In reality, each flag represented a life lost in the Iraqi war.  But in his own sweet way, he told Cloie that the flags were special because each one of them were about someone who loved her.  I would have to say that he was right.

23 days to go: Let their little lights shine

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Some of our ideas come from the heart, but come to our minds in all kinds of places.  So it was with the “Let their little lights shine” luminary service that we have each year.  If you aren’t familiar with the luminaries or the remembrance, then you have missed my most favorite part of the evening.  My heart soars when the luminaries are lit.  The bags are in remembrance of any child who has died.  Each name is said aloud followed by a family member or volunteer placing the bags in the designated area for the evening.

Last year the bags twinkled throughout the outdoor movie.  When I look out at a field of faces at the movie, I am always moved by the faces that are not there, because I know what the bags mean.  Each flicker is a loved one that isn’t here with us enjoying this time.  Our family alone has four of those bags – one for each of our children (Reed and our 3 babies) in heaven.  But also represented by those bags are friends and friends’ children.  Some of those are for children that I deeply miss having at our  lives.

So it was in the summer of 2009 (a few months before the first Reed’s Run) when Erin and I were running in the hospital’s 5k race.  At some point I connected with a mom of young lady who had passed away about 7 months before Reed.  That young lady was Erin’s swim coach who made her feel like she was the most important swimmer in the world.  She encouraged her, challenged her, and supported her.   Erin was only seven years old when she died, and she still has her pictures in her room/  She still dedicates swims for her each year.  She brought so much light to my little girl’s world.

During the race, the mom and I chatted only briefly. All I could think about was how her daughter’s light was extinguished much too early. It hit me that while Reed’s name might be on the event, I wanted it to be a place where all children could be remembered.  I wanted to remember her daughter who meant so much to mine. I know how much candlelight services mean to our family, and that was the idea that popped into my head as I jogged along.  As the concept mulled over in my head, I was committed to having each name read aloud.  Mostly I felt so passionately because after losing a child, one of the greatest fears is no one saying their name again.  I ran across a poem last year that succinctly said what my heart feels regarding Reed.

The mention of my child’s name may bring tears to my eyes,
But it never fails to bring music to my ears.
If you are really my friend,
let me hear the music of her name!
It soothes my broken heart and sings to my soul!
~Author Unknown ~

It also explains why the luminaries are my favorite part of the night.  I get to sing to someone else’s soul, and by doing so, it helps my own heal.  In that healing, I carry a little piece of each of their lights with me. With that remembrance, they are never truly forgotten.

Special note: We always have extra bags, candles, and room to add another child to our list.  If you would like a child added to our list, please contact us or come to Reed’s Run where we can provide one for you.  If you would like a child remembered but are unable to attend, simply forward the information to www.reedsrun.com and we will make a luminary for you.