We were ushered out of the church so fast that it made my head spin. There was absolutely no time to even realize what had just happened. The vans pulled up and we got in. I don't know where all of my children were- but they were not all with me. That continued to bother me horrendously throughout the next minutes, days, and months. The knowledge of knowing exactly where they were at every moment was an and is an absolute- a protection mechonism that somehow if I knew where they were- I could protect them from this death. The ride was horrible. How does one ride to the buriel plot of their son? How does one even wrao their mind around that. I didn't know. I felt like a caged animal. My children were so into their grief that I couldn't reach them. The isolation from them so complete that I felt incomplete. This was all happenening too fast. How would I ever overcome this? What if I couldn't?
The cemetary was packed and it was cold. Pastor Matt began to speak. His mouth was moving, but what was he saying. I wanted these people gone. I only wanted it to be our family. How had this gotten so far out of control? Where did all these people come from? Where were they this past week? Why didn't they help me help my son? They said we have to leave...oh no...I cannot leave him...I cannot put him in the ground. I could feel myself coiling up into the fetal position inside. I will die from this. I know I will. They will not let me hug the casket. They will not let me comfort my children. My life from here on in is over. I am dead. I have nothing. I have failed Jeff and now I have failed them. Why God? Why? Why make all of my dreams come true just to crush them.
My children were quietly making their way back to the vans and I was stuck watching them suffer....watching from what felt like so far away.They got into the vans and the silence was so deafening. What had I done to ever deserve this from them. Why won't they let me mother them? I didn't understand. So as we left Jeffy in that cold, dark unmarked grave, we left everything I thought I was and evrything I believed that I would ever be and my life was never the same again...not even today...
Monday, July 25, 2011
Sunday, July 17, 2011
The Daughter of my Heart; Sarah Raterink-Lovell
How does a person even begin to write about watching a child in pain? How does a mother sit and suffer as her child faces the biggest challenge of her life? I do not know these answers. I didn't know them then, and I certainly do not know them today. But what I do know is that on the day of Jeff's funeral when Sarah took the stage to sing Jeff's favorite Christian song, she was dying inside. She knew it. Her family knew it. Tim and I knew it. And God knew it. I watched this beautiful, young woman, who could never intentionally hurt another human being, suffer beyond what any child should have to suffer as she took the microphone to honor one of her very best friends. She was there to honor a young man whom she had watched go from "happy go lucky" to spiraling out of emotional control. Sarah had done everything humanly possible to get Jeff to get some help, but like us, Sarah couldn't get through to him, she could only love him, pray for him, and try to be his friend. Her friendship had put her "on call" with Jeff 24 hours a day and she, and her fiance Chris, had spent many a long night talking and trying to minister to Jeff. So to watch my lil Sweetie take the stage was a horrendous hurt for me and I began to pray as never before that God would fill her full of his Holy Spirit and use her to minister to these people, to give her strength beyond measure, and to hold her safely in His wings.Her job on that day was far more important than any job she would ever face....she had to testify through song, that even though Jeff had committed suicide, he was a saved man and he believed with all his heart that Jesus Christ was his Saviour.....
We first met Sarah singing at church. She took the stage one Sunday evening, somehow standing next to her brother John, scared to death to sing in front of the church. I remember thinking what a gorgeous, vivacious, young woman. I literally was blown away by the sunshine she radiated each and every time she walked on a stage or entered a room (and I still am). Sarah's faith is so strong and grounded, that when she hurts, you can feel her Saviour ache for her just by her gentle, sweet presence. The voice that came out of her body that day was angelic, and as the song went on I was excited to see how God would use this beauty to light up His world. I didn't know it then, but Sarah was to become such an inaugeral part of our family that her joys would become my joys and her hurts would become my hurts. She would become so many things. First, she would become Katce's lil caregiver in her early baby years, coming to give us a break whenever she could, and just take Katce out to play. Next, she was to become one of the few women that my daughter Lacey would come to love and trust with her whole being and call her best friend, and in that process, I too (as well as Tim) would grow to love her like a daughter. Lastly she would become a mentor for Jeff the last four years of his life culminating in being one of the last people to see and talk to him alive. The latter would leave a mark and eventually a scar on Sarah's heart that she will never get over, but she will get through.
The last week of Jeff's life, he chose to make many wrongs in his life right, and I unknowingly encouraged him to do this thinking that I was helping him get rid of his guilty"demons". But I believe now, that I was in fact, helping him set the stage to "right his wrongs" and "go in peace".
Sarah, too, played a part in Jeff's last days. She filled his nights with hope and his days with a sense of reality of who he was to her and to God. In essence, she literally loved my son to death. She taught him and made him feel worthy and for that I am eternally grateful. I cannot speak of the things that happened between my son and Sarah on the day Jeff killed himself. I cannot speak for Sarah, and I would never ever presume to know her pain; the pain of betrayal, the pain of utter loss, and the feeling of genuine guilt. But I can say, that for Sarah, Jeff's suicide has brought to this Sweetness, a test of faith and a testimony of love. For my sweet lil Sarah had to come to a very humbling place, a place I had to come to, a place we will all have to come to: We are not God and loving someone, sometimes just isn't enough. Jeff made a choice and he knowingly not only involved this sweet girl, he also underestimated her faith in her God, herself, and her love for my son. Because for Sarah, Jeff still lives. She remebers not the final hours, but the days, the months, the years that she was allowed to be a prat of his life. She is still his friend. She is still committed to him, to us and to God.
So as this beauty took the stage and mustered up the courage to sing for her Brother, I thanked God that he chose her to be there all along; on the good days, the bad days, that awful day, and now in our everyday. For without Sarah, my son wouldn't have known the unconditional love of a girl whom he could always call "Friend" even in death, she was true to him. And she is even today...
Love you Sweetness,
always and forever.
We first met Sarah singing at church. She took the stage one Sunday evening, somehow standing next to her brother John, scared to death to sing in front of the church. I remember thinking what a gorgeous, vivacious, young woman. I literally was blown away by the sunshine she radiated each and every time she walked on a stage or entered a room (and I still am). Sarah's faith is so strong and grounded, that when she hurts, you can feel her Saviour ache for her just by her gentle, sweet presence. The voice that came out of her body that day was angelic, and as the song went on I was excited to see how God would use this beauty to light up His world. I didn't know it then, but Sarah was to become such an inaugeral part of our family that her joys would become my joys and her hurts would become my hurts. She would become so many things. First, she would become Katce's lil caregiver in her early baby years, coming to give us a break whenever she could, and just take Katce out to play. Next, she was to become one of the few women that my daughter Lacey would come to love and trust with her whole being and call her best friend, and in that process, I too (as well as Tim) would grow to love her like a daughter. Lastly she would become a mentor for Jeff the last four years of his life culminating in being one of the last people to see and talk to him alive. The latter would leave a mark and eventually a scar on Sarah's heart that she will never get over, but she will get through.
The last week of Jeff's life, he chose to make many wrongs in his life right, and I unknowingly encouraged him to do this thinking that I was helping him get rid of his guilty"demons". But I believe now, that I was in fact, helping him set the stage to "right his wrongs" and "go in peace".
Sarah, too, played a part in Jeff's last days. She filled his nights with hope and his days with a sense of reality of who he was to her and to God. In essence, she literally loved my son to death. She taught him and made him feel worthy and for that I am eternally grateful. I cannot speak of the things that happened between my son and Sarah on the day Jeff killed himself. I cannot speak for Sarah, and I would never ever presume to know her pain; the pain of betrayal, the pain of utter loss, and the feeling of genuine guilt. But I can say, that for Sarah, Jeff's suicide has brought to this Sweetness, a test of faith and a testimony of love. For my sweet lil Sarah had to come to a very humbling place, a place I had to come to, a place we will all have to come to: We are not God and loving someone, sometimes just isn't enough. Jeff made a choice and he knowingly not only involved this sweet girl, he also underestimated her faith in her God, herself, and her love for my son. Because for Sarah, Jeff still lives. She remebers not the final hours, but the days, the months, the years that she was allowed to be a prat of his life. She is still his friend. She is still committed to him, to us and to God.
So as this beauty took the stage and mustered up the courage to sing for her Brother, I thanked God that he chose her to be there all along; on the good days, the bad days, that awful day, and now in our everyday. For without Sarah, my son wouldn't have known the unconditional love of a girl whom he could always call "Friend" even in death, she was true to him. And she is even today...
Love you Sweetness,
always and forever.
Monday, July 4, 2011
Jeff's Dad
They began to play the photos of Jeff's life and everytime a new phot came across the screen, memories flooded my very soul. And with those memories came great joy. JOY. Joy- a novel concept, something that had been missing since all of this happened. Tim was sobbing now and so I held him close. I could feel the bruising as he clutched my arm during his sobs. So hard for him to let go of Jeff..always was. Tim could never ever give up on one of his kids, but especially Jeff. Tim had wanted Jeff to be his son long before I had any clue what life had in store for me as a mother...I guess when you pray for an addition to your family, that you should really be quite specific.
I remembered the internet photo caption read, "This boy needs a Dad!" and Tim was sold. He was ready to adopt Jeff then and there, but not me. I was frightened to the core. "Are you kidding me...adopt five kids?" I truly believed Tim to be insane. How could a white family from Michigan even begin to parent a bunch of black kids from New York. But after several attempts to sway me and me acting like a scared brat for a week- that's exactly what we did. We met, fell in love with, and adopt those kids. They were great kids and so easy to love and Tim was an awesome dad. Even to Jeff, but especially to Jeff. Jeff was so hard to parent. Hot one minute and cold the next. But Tim had a way with him and he never gave up on Jeffrey. No matter what Jeff did...Tim couldn't walk away and he always gave him the benefit of the doubt. Even when Jeff committed three misdemeanrs in his sophmore year...even when he smacked around his siblings...even when he ran away...even when he said he hated us...even when he said he wished we'd go to hell...Tim never gave up. He just couldn't - it's not in his character.
But the pain I felt in this man today was that of a broken man who could never ever forgive what Jeff had done this time. Tim had tried so hard with this son. He'd drove him to games, changed schools, went to practices, worked overtime to provide the best of everything, studied with him, reasoned with him, begged and pleaded with him, and even moved our entire family back to MI when Jeff was getting into trouble in NM. But taking his life, his own life was something that Tim couldn't or wouldn't forgive. Jeff's life was a gift from God, and Jeffrey's walking away meant that his life had meant nothing. If anyone knows anything about my husband, it's that he is a terrific father and he truly feels it is his mission to be a father to the fatherless. And now Jeff had taken that "life" and snuffed it out and in the process, snuffed the life out of Tim as well. I didn't know what to do except hold him and love him. I tried to be aware of the children. But all I managed to do was be aware of Tim and his profound soorrow- an angry sorrow that still exists to this very day.
Anyone can be a father, but it takes someone special to be a Dad and that someone special is my husband, Tim Burd.
How would he deal with this profound hurt in the months to come...I could only wonder. But as the funeral moved on and I still felt a steady peace and joy...I began to truly understand the pain of others as Sarah stood to sing....
I remembered the internet photo caption read, "This boy needs a Dad!" and Tim was sold. He was ready to adopt Jeff then and there, but not me. I was frightened to the core. "Are you kidding me...adopt five kids?" I truly believed Tim to be insane. How could a white family from Michigan even begin to parent a bunch of black kids from New York. But after several attempts to sway me and me acting like a scared brat for a week- that's exactly what we did. We met, fell in love with, and adopt those kids. They were great kids and so easy to love and Tim was an awesome dad. Even to Jeff, but especially to Jeff. Jeff was so hard to parent. Hot one minute and cold the next. But Tim had a way with him and he never gave up on Jeffrey. No matter what Jeff did...Tim couldn't walk away and he always gave him the benefit of the doubt. Even when Jeff committed three misdemeanrs in his sophmore year...even when he smacked around his siblings...even when he ran away...even when he said he hated us...even when he said he wished we'd go to hell...Tim never gave up. He just couldn't - it's not in his character.
But the pain I felt in this man today was that of a broken man who could never ever forgive what Jeff had done this time. Tim had tried so hard with this son. He'd drove him to games, changed schools, went to practices, worked overtime to provide the best of everything, studied with him, reasoned with him, begged and pleaded with him, and even moved our entire family back to MI when Jeff was getting into trouble in NM. But taking his life, his own life was something that Tim couldn't or wouldn't forgive. Jeff's life was a gift from God, and Jeffrey's walking away meant that his life had meant nothing. If anyone knows anything about my husband, it's that he is a terrific father and he truly feels it is his mission to be a father to the fatherless. And now Jeff had taken that "life" and snuffed it out and in the process, snuffed the life out of Tim as well. I didn't know what to do except hold him and love him. I tried to be aware of the children. But all I managed to do was be aware of Tim and his profound soorrow- an angry sorrow that still exists to this very day.
Anyone can be a father, but it takes someone special to be a Dad and that someone special is my husband, Tim Burd.
How would he deal with this profound hurt in the months to come...I could only wonder. But as the funeral moved on and I still felt a steady peace and joy...I began to truly understand the pain of others as Sarah stood to sing....
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