Tuesday, December 31, 2013

20 years and glimpses of Glory

Ian,

Hey dude. I couldn't write on your birthday. It was already hard keeping it together. We really don't know how to do life without you. Should we do our traditional birthday (or any holiday) celebration? Should we do things altogether different since life is altogether different? Dad struggled with whether to even cook bacon for breakfast (he finally decided to cook it as you probably noticed), we all struggled with whether we should have a family meal (and, as of yet, we haven't). We ended up with cookies and then a conversation about to sing or not to sing. Instead we shared a brief story each and ate cookies and cried.
Oh God, how? How are we suppose to do this life now?
As I write 2013 is coming to an end and I am losing it! This will be the last year in our earthly home in which we got to hear your voice, in which we laughed with you, in which we hugged, in which we lived life, the good and the bad, together. I don't want this year to end.
Oh God, where? Where can I find Your peace that surpasses all understanding as we move into 2014?
Everyday forward is so hard. My sorrow, my love song for you, is something I still wear like a warm blanket, but it is also burrowing deep into my being where I know it will come to rest one day. This love song I sing is so damn heartbreaking, but I would have it no other way. Moreover, I want people to hear my song for you and when they see me or think of me, for you to come to their mind. I desperately want this. Because my fear is that as we move out of 2013 and into 2014 or 20-whatever, people won't see you anymore.
Oh God, why? Why Ian?
Ian, you have helped me realize what C.S. Lewis says best: "At present we are on the outside…the wrong side of the door. We discern the freshness and purity of morning, but they do not make us fresh and pure. We cannot mingle with the pleasures we see. But all the pages of the New Testament are rustling with the rumor that it will not always be so. Someday, God willing, we shall get “in”…We will put on glory…that greater glory of which Nature is only the first sketch." And, as we stood at the top of Emerald Bay on your birthday Saturday and saw the majesty of God's creation, His first sketch being nature before us, I can't imagine now that you are "in" how glorious your new life must be. And, how much better it must of become since your arrival.
Oh God, when? When will it be my turn? Waiting has become impossibly hard.
Until my turn, I will pray Psalm 27:4-5.
One thing have I asked of the LORD, that will I seek after: that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the LORD and to inquire in his temple. For he will hide me in his shelter in the day of trouble; he will conceal me under the cover of his tent; he will lift me high upon a rock.
Love, as we learn new ways to celebrate, as the days and months and years pass, as I sing my song for you, may I see glimpses of the glory and beauty in which you now live and be able to wait out my turn with peace and joy.

I love you, Ian.

Happy 20th Birthday.

~ Mom





Wednesday, December 25, 2013

The First Christmas

Ian,

Does Merry Christmas sound weird to you given you can celebrate in person with Jesus? How magnificent that must be! I have wondered what you must do in Heaven, who you hang with, what you talk about, but also what you are aware of here for those of us who must go on. 

Do you walk and talk with your Grandpa Eddie who called you Rooster, or your Grandma & Grandpa Edwards who lovingly made your quilt that I cherish, or Grandma Fickess who loved you like one of her own, or Uncle Curtis who couldn’t wait to get to Heaven?

Do you have chats with Baby Boy about your mommas and their funny jokes that make each other laugh? Because, lezbehonest, we are a hoot. 

Do you and Josh hang out and pray for us as we wonder why and as we hurt deep and know that we forever will until our own time comes?

Did you meet the Boston Marathon bombing victims who passed just four days before you or the West, Texas victims who passed just two days before you, the ones you prayed for?

What about Nelson Mandela? Just today I was wondering if he is there. I know if he is, the line is long to talk to him!

What about your Christian brother from Austin Stone, Ronnie Smith? (Click orange links for more info.) Please pray for Anita and Hosea - actually - you guys already know best how to pray for them! But the pain must be excruciating today for all those that love him as it is for all those who love you.

Have you talked to Mary yet? How did she watch her perfect child, her baby boy, die for us all? How was she able to continue? Today I listened to a sermon (Born to Die) that chimed in about the song “Mary, Did You Know?” and all the evidence from the scriptures indicates that she did know the ending from the very beginning - even before Jesus' birth. She must be one tough momma.

And I know you have talked and walked with Jesus, that He must have been the first to greet you when you arrived Home. This is what keeps me moving forward—Jesus greeting me when I get Home (unless He wants to come and come soon!), and of course, seeing you. Have you had all your questions answered? Did you find out if “God died?” as you had asked me as a four year old. [I said no, God was, is and forever will be, but Ian replied, “but Jesus died.” … huh … good question, go ask your dad.] Or are the questions no longer important?

I know God’s promises to be true, that you are living eternally with the “fullness of joy” and "pleasures evermore" (Ps. 16:11); that you are in paradise (Luke 23:43), a paradise we can’t even imagine, one in which "He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away” (Rev. 21:4). 

But today, Christmas day, the tears are flowing here on earth from your momma. The mourning is great. Crying and pain near constant. But somewhere, somewhere deep inside, intermingled with all the anguish, is joy for your own eternal joy--the peace and rest you must have now; a gift beyond all gifts. How great it must be worshipping our Savior who will one day unite us again. Please bear hug him for me as only you can and tell him Happy Birthday.

As we attempt to 'celebrate' Christmas in a few hours with your California family, you must know the best gift I was given this year (and that moving forward I can’t ever imagine being outdone until my own Homecoming) was my glimpse of Heaven and of you in May; your arms around me, your words of comfort and of love, that smile. Please thank God for me and let Him know that we want you to come again and visit—anytime and often, tonight even! But even if you don’t, you are always with us, always and forever. 

I love you, Rooster.

Mom


p.s. Your dad's blog post made me cry today - To run or not to run - back in Vacaville. Okay, everything makes me cry, but he captured so much of our lives here in Vacaville that I found myself longing for those days. 

Also, for all others, see Yours Alone for the miracle of my visit to Heaven with Ian and other miracles God has given each of us this year. May you each have a blessed Christmas.

Ian, Our Christmas Baby. We miss you. 





Sunday, December 15, 2013

Collectibles vol. 1

You know your an Aggie when...
April 13, 2013 - We are at Texas A&M for Parent's Weekend. We are sitting at breakfast for study abroad and a dad at the table asked Ian where he was going (his own son was going to Qatar in the fall). Ian replied "Texas A&M." So proud!

Grace Potter and the Nocturnals.
...a text from Ian one week before. I didn't listen to it until Friday December 6, 2013. Why did I wait? I also have two movies he gave me last Christmas I haven't watched and several books. Why have I waited?

Stranger...Friends.
I was walking to my last research tax class on December 4 and a sweet, beautiful blond girl was waiting for me outside the door. She introduced herself as a friend who played frisbee with you. The last time she saw you was in Norman, Oklahoma a year before in September 2012 for a college frisbee tournament. She recalled you came running from behind and when she turned around she was greeted by you and a big ol' hug. She wanted to hug me all semester and her mom finally encouraged her to do so. I am so glad she did. I felt you hugging me in that moment. I miss your hugs and am so thankful you never met a stranger and your friends carry you in their hearts.

I've got a big bottom, I cannot lie.


Homeless.
During the first week of this month as I was about to leave Starbucks with a drink in hand when a homeless man approached me. He told me he knew "my son" and was sorry to hear that he passed and that his own wife and daughter had died in an auto accident ten years prior. We chatted a few minutes and then he wanted to introduce me to another homeless man. The three of us chatted for an hour and a half in Randall's about life, about comedians, about all kinds of things. I knew each of them by name from things Ian had said, but now I had faces and stories and their lives in front of me. After an hour of talking I was showing them a photo of Ian and the first man just started crying and kept saying "that isn't your son, that boy is just at school and is coming home soon." It was clear that he wasn't connecting that the "my son" was actually Ian. After a good five minutes of him crying and attempting to convince himself that we weren't talking about the same boy, he shared with me why he was so distraught. Ian had provided him with free coffee, free food and when Ian noticed his hands shaking, with money (for alcohol--both knew, never said). But mostly Ian provided him all of this without judgment. "He was a good kid." In my opinion, he was the best.

Porn Star.
Ian sent me this picture and asked if he looked like a 70s porn star. I replied that, yes, indeed.


Shopping and Sugar.
     We both hated shopping. We both wanted to figure out what we needed and where before leaving home, go bag it and get back home. But when we were out we talked and talked and talked. You had an opinion about everything. EVERYTHING. You always expressed yourself and always had to be different--sometimes even if you expressed a "different" opinion that was down right odd or wrong, you would stand behind it. Then a couple of days later it was clear you had been thinking through the conversations and come back and mention that you could see the other side (i.e., admit you were wrong without admitting you were wrong).
     You were always the BEST at researching beforehand. But I recall the last time we went shopping for jeans in January of this year. None of your jeans fit well. Your thighs and behind had become quite muscular and all of your jeans became super "skinny" jeans on you. We ended up going to the Domain, Target and finally Nordstrom Rack and found only one pair that fit. They were a foot too long, but they fit where it was important...
     We did also shop for sugar containers while we were out (you didn't want to, but you wanted an opinion and so you came along). I had accidentally bought two little itty-bitty ones for $125 (yes, I overspent initially). But we then laughed and laughed when we saw how ridiculously small they were (2.5 ounces...must have thought 2.5 liters?). We ended up at the store Crate and Barrel and you chose the ones we have. I think of you every time I see them. You are literally in and part of every thing in my life.

Good Monsters.
As your dad said - one of your favorites by Jars of Clay. Somethings I have noticed in each song as I listened to it over and over this past week.

  • Work - "I have no fear of drowning, It's the breathing, It's taking all this work." These lyrics resonate very strongly with me as of late.
  • Dead Man (Carry Me) - This particular song Caylea wanted us to play at your celebration service. It was vetoed by the worship crew...for good reason. It is haunting, but I see why you loved it so.
  • All My Tears - Weep I shall, but to be home and free must be something wonderful.
  • There is a River - It ends "For all of those nights, you cried all alone. For all of your tears... love will atone."
  • Oh My God - "Oh my God, can I complain? You take away my firm belief and graft my soul upon your grief. Weddings, boats, and alibis, All drift away, and a mother cries...."
  • Take Me Higher - "My soul is waiting, Lookin for a place to hide, I need a little peace tonight."

577.
My heart hurts in ways completely indefinable when I think of this number. 577 untold stories of a hero.

Selfie.
Ian's last known photo of himself was taken by himself April 17, 2013. Goofball.


Dad remembers...
Ian’s reputation and impact has been seen in many ways. Two brief studies from Muster show the extent of this in the lives of people he knew and didn’t know in the A&M community. One student was given Ian’s hole punch during the room clean out before the Muster event. This student brought the hole punch to Muster and down to the floor – because it was Ian’s! He had to keep Ian close. The A&M choir director who had lead the choir in a series of beautiful songs during Muster waited 20 minutes quietly on the floor of Reed Arena to speak with us. The director said that he had to speak to the family of this young man that he had hear about from his choir Friday night. One of Ian’s friend’s (Tim Watson’s) brothers – who he knew at Great Hills Baptist – was in the choir and heard of Ian’s death. Apparently others knew or knew of Ian in the choir. During a concert break, the word came that Ian had died in the car crash. Those who knew him gathered around to pray, cry and reminisce. The director was amazed at this spontaneous reaction to the death of a freshman not associated at all with the choir. Getting the choir back on stage was apparently a chore. The director wanted to know the parents who raised such an influential person.

Big Brother Danny remembers...
The last night we hung out I was barely able to get off work. I had to beg my manager. Ian stopped by for about 5 hours and we half played video games/half talked about life, love and relationships. It was one of the best talks we ever had.

Sister Caylea remembers...
Ian always got obsessed with different topics. I think one of the most annoying obsessions he had was when he decided screamo was the best music and he would learn to scream. I remember so many nights where I would not sleep well because of him blaring his music in his room and me yelling over the music in the hope he would turn it down. Then he would spend hours in the garage screaming, which resulted in a constant demonic yelling coming from the garage. I remember laughing many times when my friends would come over when Ian was practicing his music and always wonder if a horror movie was going on in the room next door.

Sister Becky remembers...
While driving today I laughed out loud thinking of how Ian used to LOVE to help us TP or saran wrap your cars - all the while knowing he'd have to help clean it up in the morning. That boy was so funny.

Momma Mundell remembers...
I put out my Christmas manger a couple days ago. I remember when you were two years old: you and your family came over one evening in December. I had our ceramic manger under the Christmas tree. You went straight over to it, picked up the baby Jesus, and broke off his arm! Lol. The baby Jesus is fine - nothing a little super glue couldn't fix. But every year when I put up the manger I think of you, and I always will. I miss you E-man.

Aunt Mandi remembers...
I was at your house and Ian and I had found a funny app that told you silly facts. So we both downloaded it on our phones and would read out facts to each other. One of them was that an onion really has no taste it's more the smell you are tasting. So we went to your kitchen, cutting up onions, plugging each others noses, eating raw onions.

Aunt Shelley remembers...
On one of your visits Ian asked if he could have a hot pocket. Of course we said sure. After his first hot pocket he was still hungry. We insisted that he eat until he was full. Well, a box of hot pockets later Ian was full. We shop at Sam's where food is sold in bulk. Yes, Ian ate a bulk load of hot pockets.

Aunt Stephanie remembers...
I miss Ian...I love your smiling, handsome, funny, always talking son. I see Ian IN my kids everyday...and then I see my kids IN Ian everyday...I think of him before and after I make any decisions with the kids. I adore your son. He brought joy and laughter into every room he entered. I love him very much.

Aunt Khristina remembers...
I remember very vividly coming to California and spending time with my sister, brother in law, and the kiddos. .this was the first real time I got to spend with the two youngest since they were born.  Well after roughly two days there my sister had shown me several times Ian's obsession over his plaid jacket and sunglasses.  He went to take a shower and Nettie attempted to wash then hide the two items, needless to say her attempt fail through after a long diligent argument from Ian who was just a toddler at the time. I told my sister then he was going to do something and be something amazing.  He has left his mark on EVERYONE he has EVER met...gosh he is loved and missed by too many to count..love you Ian

Aunt Megan remembers...
There are many memories I have but one that stands out is about Ian's body and how he was good with the older ladies. One night I was over at ya'll's house and I talked Ian into letting me straighten his hair while I wait on my friend, Brandi to come pick me up. I had him sit on the bar stool at the kitchen counter where many of the Pogue's hair cuts, colors, and styles all began. We sat and giggled and conversed about what the girls at school like to do to his hair. We were both in awe of how long is hair looked when it was all straightened. My friend Brandi pulled into the drive way and immediately sent me a text saying, "Who is that sexy guy?" We both looked towards the window at her lights shining through the open shades. I laughed hysterically and showed the text to Ian, who of course instantly blushed with his adorable shriek of a giggle. He was only 15 at the time and she was 21. I always laugh over that and his goofy giggle. That night, I realized just how much he had grown up on me and what a good looking young man he was becoming. I miss our talks, that smile, and that laugh. But forever, I will hold onto his memory.

We all will Ian. 


**Stories from friends are being collated! I asked for a few and received LOTS. Coming soon.






Thursday, December 12, 2013

Advent Longing

Ian,

Your other momma passed me an article on Advent and "the ones who know longing." That is one way to describe how I feel: longing. Longing for 237 days. 

Christmas has always been my most favorite holiday. Oh, how I long for you to join us this Christmas. I remember very distinctly going to Christmas Eve service with you at the Stone when they decided to only read scripture and sing. It was a beautiful worship service where all glory was focused on God. It was your love of that service that helped us as we prepared your own service to celebrate your life here. A little talking, scripture, sing, repeat, repeat, repeat. 

Now all I have after nearly 8 months repeating in my mind over and over and over again is April 19. Various aspects of that day. Our last conversations, three of them that morning. Oh, how I long for things to have gone differently. My frustrations over stupid things like your broken phone, over when you were going to arrive and over your school paper all seem so petty. I drove my self crazy initially wondering if our last words were "I love you." But I know they had to be. They always were. Always, even if you were hanging up with me as you walked into the house and greeted me in person. But, I keep wondering how things may have gone that day if only ... if only ... if only ... It makes all the days after different, trying desperately to avoid the if onlys.

I won't lie. It isn't getting easier. I think I have cried more these past two weeks than I have in the month previous. And I have noticed a definitive change in my crying. Up until about a month ago it was mostly tears, wailing, and guttural moans. Now it is just sobbing. FYI--with sobbing there is so much snot! Did you know that? I can't breathe after a few minutes. It makes the muffling more difficult. Yes, I prefer to cry alone and without notice. It is how my conversations start with you and end with God. When others are around the conversations are interrupted. This crying surge...well I kind of did it to myself (but I still blame you). I posted a picture of you with your 2012 Christmas ornament on your Facebook page and that one just sets me off for a good spell. Someone said the other day you are "beautiful" and every time I see that picture I think the same. I have three beautiful children and one of them I long to see, I long to hear, I long to hold.

I also posted to Facebook someways to donate through the holiday's in your honor and have been blessed by the response of those who love you. You have awesome friends and family. Really. In your wake they have rallied and blessed others. Little girls will have beautiful hair. Funding for education. Funding for ministry. Life-giving blood and the offer of organ donation. Stories and pictures for your dad and I to treasure and T-shirts to keep us warm. The deep and agonizing longing of our hearts for you cannot be filled by these acts of kindness, but they soothe the pain and leave a lasting legacy.

As I end, the song "O come, O come, Emmanuel" is an old favorite and as I listen to the words they have new meaning and for the first time in my 40+ years I believe I understand the author more fully.

Ian, I love you. I love you more. I love you most.

Mom  

O come, O come, Emmanuel
And ransom captive Israel
That mourns in lonely exile here
Until the Son of God appear
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

O come, Thou Rod of Jesse, free
Thine own from Satan's tyranny
From depths of Hell Thy people save
And give them victory o'er the grave
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

O come, Thou Day-Spring, come and cheer
Our spirits by Thine advent here
Disperse the gloomy clouds of night
And death's dark shadows put to flight.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

O come, Thou Key of David, come,
And open wide our heavenly home;
Make safe the way that leads on high,
And close the path to misery.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

O come, O come, Thou Lord of might,
Who to Thy tribes, on Sinai's height,
In ancient times did'st give the Law,
In cloud, and majesty and awe.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.






Wednesday, November 27, 2013

Thankful for Twisted Peppermint and Bubble Baths

Ian,

Do you remember stealing my Bath and Body Works Twisted Peppermint body wash I received for Christmas? (I don't think you considered it 'stealing,' because you would have given your own away if anyone asked.) It was probably 7 years ago. You loved how it smelled--and for good reason--I am still using it--thank you Aunt Stephanie! We bought you your own bottle for your stocking that year (and for several years after). I think I will get some for your big burly man friends this year for their stockings.

I remember being so glad that we didn't have to fight you to shower after moving here to Austin. In fact, in typical teenage fashion you went from a smelly prepubescent boy to a smelly teen man-boy who showered all the time...that is until you discovered we had a whirlpool tub and you had a long week and wanted to relax. That was probably four years ago. You spent 4-5 nights a week for many months in our bath tub with your Twisted Peppermint that makes way too many bubbles. I remember you always asking around 10pm...not that we old people like to sleep or anything. In fact, I believe we fell asleep quite a few times while you did your Twisted Peppermint bubble bath 10 feet away.

Oh, I so wish you were here to hug, and to listen to, and to talk to, and to steal my stuff.

Tomorrow will be Thanksgiving. I don't feel I have anything to be truly thankful for this year. Even all my new friends, the new Aggie family, supportive Bible study group and spiritual growth I am blessed to have and not sure I could survive without, but it all came with too high of a cost to be 'thankful' for these things. Does that make sense? Life is insanely bittersweet and often more bitter than sweet. So we aren't even planning to celebrate--just throw some food out and wander around visiting with Momma Jean and Poppa Gene and I will probably study. Doesn't that sound like fun!

Okay, so there are a few things I am thankful for. I am thankful you "joined" us for dinner the other night. Caylea said it well in her FaceBook post:
Today was interesting, God and Ian Redeemed Pogue were present.  
Lanette, Greg, Daniel and I went to Terry Hillis Jr.'s Madrigal dinner theater tonight. It was a GREAT show, I highly recommend it to every one! Terry was amazing in his role, and the song and food were good too.   
Well, what made it more interesting at our table, we sat across from Ian, a freshman in Architectural Engineering [FYI: most people do not know what Arch. Eng. is, & there are only 60 people/grade in a university with 5000 freshman. So there are no chances of having an Ian in my major, it is a God thing only He could make possible]. So even though our Ian wasn't there in person, God made it clear, He and Ian are still with us and LOVE us even when we are grieving.  
Ian, I miss you so much. Love you. 
I am thankful for the 577 amazing, wonderful, e-xtraordinary, far-reaching, life-changing, life-giving, graced by God, physical gifts of yourself. It is hard to talk about or even imagine because of the reality that hits each time we remember, but that doesn't mean I am not in awe of you.

I am thankful for your Dad who cries for you everyday and has started writing stories (he always has had the best memory) and supports me without question when I stay up until 2am studying. I am thankful for your brother and am so glad to have him nearby and I especially love seeing him for our pop-in lunch dates. I am thankful for your sister and how she has handled so much stress with her grief and still manages to do so well in school. I am thankful for memories and photos and videos of you and when people talk about you and when people write us stories of you and when people FaceBook post things remembering you.

So, it looks like we will survive Thanksgiving and manage to find something to be thankful for...It's really the day after that is going to be the most difficult I believe. For 22 years we have gone shopping early, purchased a new ornament, put on the Grinch (or some movie) and put up our Christmas tree with all of you whining incessantly, shirtless, and posing like muscle-(well you were)-men (I was the photographer and Caylea donned a sports bra). I think we have all decided to skip it this year for many reasons, you being at the top of the list, but also since you and we won't be here for Christmas. Just seems easier emotionally. (Boy, don't we sound like a sad sack lot.) And, YES, I know that you would not want us carrying on like this, but you don't get a say in it this year. You might win out next year, but not this one.

As I end, I want to say that I feel blessed that you knew Emily and she introduced me to her mom and dad and, that today of all days, you are with Josh. You boys be praying for us. We need it. Josh, I love you already and can't wait to meet you in person. You have an amazing family.

Ian, I miss you. I love you. Happy Thanksgiving.


Philippians 1:3-11

I thank my God in all my remembrance of you, always in every prayer of mine for you all making my prayer with joy, because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now. And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.  It is right for me to feel this way about you all, because I hold you in my heart, for you are all partakers with me of grace, both in my imprisonment and in the defense and confirmation of the gospel. For God is my witness, how I yearn for you all with the affection of Christ Jesus. And it is my prayer that your love may abound more and more, with knowledge and all discernment, so that you may approve what is excellent, and so be pure and blameless for the day of Christ, filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ, to the glory and praise of God.







Thursday, November 21, 2013

Hey e-xtraordinary

Hey e-xtraordinary
7 months pregnant - we still couldn't decide on your name. That happened 3 days before you were born. Ian is Gaelic for John and in Hebrew your name means “Graced by Yahweh” (God). And we were.
7 minutes old - you were our Barney (tv dinosaur) lizard baby. You came out purple, like your shirt your sister wears now. You also kept sticking your tongue out repeatedly. Regardless, the whole pregnancy I was scared I would not love you because I wanted a girl (a sister for your sister) and I couldn't imagine having enough love for another baby. I could not have been more wrong! I was overflowing with love for you. My heart grew that day and everyday after.
7 hours old - you were a champion breast feeder and no longer purple.
7 days old - you'd bring sweet tears of joy to me when you'd smile and roll your eyes in sleep. We loved our baby tv! We could watch you all day long.
7 weeks old - finally sleeping all night in the bassinet, which took a lot of tears on both our parts. You really really really liked sleeping in our bed all snuggled up next to us. You cried and cried when I'd move you to your bed. I didn't know your little obsessiveness was showing through at such a young age. Really, you were two weeks old the first time you wailed when I moved you from our bed to yours. But at 7 weeks the time had come. Again, you always knew what you wanted!
7 months old - you had all who looked upon you enraptured by your smile. That smile is forever embedded on all of our souls.
7 years old - you and your sister are like twins and go hand in hand everywhere, both of you looking up to your big brother for everything. You also became “social” in school…that is that every teacher conference started with “he loves to talk.”
------------
7 days before your homecoming - we were sitting and having dinner with you discussing parent’s weekend. You were very bummed we didn’t get a bed and breakfast room big enough so you could stay with us! I wish we had. That was a great weekend and I am so thankful to have spent it with you.
------------
7 minutes after your homecoming - I was oblivious that my heart and my world were about to be shattered. Your sister pointed out just the other day that by this time you had started praying for us as you walked in Heaven. We needed it. I am not sure we would have survived without it.
7 hours after - we were still trying to call all your friends, we already had meals in the fridge and flowers and cards and hugs. This was because of you. You never met a stranger. Never. And they all showed up for you.
7 days after - we celebrated your life with 130 of your close friends at our house on Friday night. We shared stories. We cut hair for Locks of Love. We cried. We prepared for the bigger celebration the next day.
7 weeks after - everything is wrong in life and life hurts.
7 months after - you are still amazing me. We learned you are still living here on earth through 577 donations!! …From The Tissue Center: The significance and impact of Ian’s gift is beyond measure – I don’t know if I can adequately express to you and your family how unique this outcome is. I spoke with several of my colleagues and we all agreed that to our knowledge, The Tissue Center has never seen a gift as far-reaching and extraordinary as Ian’s.  What he has accomplished, and will continue to accomplish through donation is truly remarkable…You are still giving your all in life and I am so proud of you Ian.

7 years from now - we will still all feel Graced by God for having you part of our lives. 

I love you Ian.
     (and I desparately miss you)
------------
Just for those who are curious. The number seven in the Bible is one of the most powerful numbers and stands for spiritual perfection and fullness or completion. Google it. Very interesting.
Just one such instance: The number seven symbolizes God's perfection, His sovereignty and holiness. God created earth - seven days; One seven-day week is a reminder of our creator; God blessed the seventh day, making it holy (Exodus 20:8-11).






Tuesday, November 5, 2013

Fall Back and Escape the Dark Night of My Soul

A totally random post about random stuff.

This weekend we "fall back" and gain an extra hour. FYI: I don't want an extra hour on the weekends. You think I have lost my mind, huh? We look forward to Mondays in our house since that fateful Friday in April. Friday's are the worst, followed by Saturday and Sunday--although church always provides some kind of emotional release. Yes, we can't wait for the weekends to end, they last too long and we can't afford to keep ourselves constantly preoccupied. It doesn't work anyway, because "fun" things are what normal people do on the weekends...for us it is a reminder of the gaping hole that our son left behind.

If only I could fall back. Fall back to early Spring, to easier times, to life feeling certain and happy and content, to knowing where, what and who I am.

Have you ever fallen backwards on a roller coaster - the kind that takes you high into the air then drops you one direction and then the other? The kind that throws your internal organs for a loop? I loved roller coasters. I don't think I do anymore. I have been on one for over six months and my internal organs are constantly roiling higher and higher then I am dropped back into reality. This ride has left my heart beaten, battered, bruised and broken, that is, what's left of it.

This past weekend I vacillated between irrational thoughts that I had actually fallen back to a more joyful time, where I kept waiting for Ian to text or to call or simply be sitting with me chatting about something totally random. But then I would spring forward to be present in the here and now filled with tears and sorrow. Roller coasters have nothing on a bereaved momma.

When Ian left for college last year I will admit that the quiet of the house was nice. Now it is a curse. And I find I keep "torturing" myself with his songs as my ringtones and watching the very few videos that we have of him and listening to him sing (no jokes about that being torture, much like God, his singing is a joyful noise to me! - one of my favorites you can download: Oh How He Loves). I listen to his Pandora stations and wear his pajama bottoms when it is cold. I look through pictures and post on Facebook. And it is torture because these activities are simply--at best--the late evening shadows of him.

Evenings...evenings are only slightly less worse than the weekends. Again, not enough to do.

And then there is night--most nights--feel like the dark night of my soul. Except for one recently. I think I mentioned in the "Yours Alone" blog that I don't dream or rarely remember them if I do. I had a miracle a week ago. On occasion I still take Ambion when sleep eludes me for several weeks and this was one such night. Sometime during the night, by the grace of God, I briefly awoke from my Ambion coma to remember a dream I was having. I remember Ian sitting next to me just chatting like olds days. Clearly it wasn't a conversation that was important--I remember no details--it was just important to have. If only we could fall back.

Recently I heard a great sermon called Night Song by Rev. Jason Twombly. He discusses how we all have a song we sing and that suffering brings out our most genuine songs loud and clear (he says it quite more elegantly). He mentions that some of us are in the "dark night of the soul" as was he when he gave the sermon. His wife had her own Homecoming 40 days before.

My song frequently changes...In the beginning I could only sing I Want You Here and Need You Now. At times it is The Bitch is Back (no ones favorite). Most of the time it is Ain't No Sunshine. On a rare occasion, and more recently, my song is It is Well with My Soul - only God could put this song in me. Peace that surpasses ALL understanding. I hunger for more.

While I wait through the dark night of my soul I cling to God's promise - that joy comes in the morning (Psalm 30).

Joy come, come.






Saturday, October 26, 2013

i have three. three.

Dear loved ones,

Somewhere along the way in the past six months so many people, I daresay most, in my life seem to have decided on their own that I only have two children. This is a reminder that I have THREE.

Most of you I don't see on a daily basis or talk to with a ton of regularity, but even for those I do, please ask me about Ian. He is still part of my life. In fact, for the past six months he has had the most impact on my life, my thoughts, my actions, my everything. So, to call or text and "avoid" one of my children regardless where they are (in Austin or Heaven), who they are with (friends, significant others, Jesus) and how we interact with them (words, actions, thoughts, memories, etc.) simply hurts. And I am already in pain - hurting more than seems bearable and I am sure you don't mean to cause more.

I have heard from many of you that talking about or thinking about Ian makes you cry and you don't want to cry and you don't want to "do that to me." I am here to say loud and clear - cry. CRY, MOURN, REMEMBER, and most importantly TALK TO ME about my beloved, precious son who is still living! Each time will help with healing for us both.

The thing that has scared me MOST since his Homecoming is people "forgetting" him. Agreed, we may not forget, but how am I to know? Not only are people NOT talking about him, but I used to get daily or weekly texts or phone calls from some of you. It has for the most part stopped. And now, when I need people most, I am being left alone and the loneliness is just another added hurt.

So just a heads up. A momma LOVES, LOVES, LOVES talking about her children - even through tears - on a regular basis. And I have three. THREE.

How?
     When you call and ask how things are going with Danny or Caylea, literally ask "how are things with Ian?" (We still interact with him everyday--at times with every breath we breathe.)
     When you pray for Danny and Caylea, consider being thankful for something about Ian (Philipians 1:3: I thank my God every time I remember you.). You may not do this on your own, but when you pray with us we would love for you to mention Ian. I am pretty sure Ian can hear you! And even if he can't, we can.
     When you remember something about Ian, text us.
     When you remember a story about Ian, send an email (ian_redeemed_pogue@yahoo.com).
     When you run across anything and everything reminding you of Ian, pick up the phone and tell me or Greg or Caylea or Danny.
     Remember the 19th and let us know that you are remembering with us. This date is more important than his birthday and you wouldn't let that one go unnoticed. I say this because last Saturday only three people "remembered" Ian that we know of. THREE.

Just like the number of children I have. So I will respectfully ask that (1) you call or text like you used to (if you still want to...and include whatever is going on in your life! And, don't worry about complaining - agreed, your life doesn't suck as bad as mine and I pray it never will - but it can still be hard at times and I am interested in whatever is in YOUR LIFE TOO and I am done having it all about me) and (2) if you are going to talk about my children be prepared to talk about all of them, and yes, for awhile that may involve kleenex.

This blog was prompted by my sad feelings all week. Sad because it has been six months and a week. Sad because I am lonely. Sad because I feel people are forgetting my big burly son with the bigger heart...

Three. I have three.







Tuesday, October 15, 2013

my biggest fear. living.

to my beloved ian

my biggest fear since October 17, 1987 was having my son die. without any doubt i knew i would die if he did. then on August 20, 1992 my fears were doubled with your sister. then tripled on December 28, 1993 when i gave birth to you, my precious, precious baby boy.

as you know on April 19th of this year my biggest fear was realized when you went Home.

i am constantly reminded of a story a friend told me....that when you are terribly seasick you worry you will die from it before it passes and that as time goes along you start to worry you won't die! that is now my biggest fear. living.

how do i live without you? as soon as i stop moving my heart explodes in my chest like it did on that first day when i realized you were late and it physically hurts - hurts like i have been stabbed through. as soon as i slow down my stomach heaves and i want to vomit so badly and it is all i can do to get it under control. as soon as i have a moment to think i cry and find it so hard to stop.

ian. ian. ian.

how do i live without your constant chatter? without your youtube videos? without listening to you play the same song over and over and over on the bass or the guitar? without you telling me all about your friends and work and school and teachers? without your hugs? without your encouragement to get up and exercise? without wondering what you will grow up to be? without wondering about your wife and kids? without you grabbing a blanket, flipping on the fan and falling asleep in front of a friday night movie? without you dragging half of college station here with you every weekend? without all your high school friends here during the breaks and holidays?

how do i live without you? how do we all live with this much pain and ache and void?

i know God's promises are true and i know you walk with Him, but i miss you. and already my new fear is constantly being realized. living without you. and as time moves on i feel further and further away from you when in reality i know each day brings me closer to the day i will see you again in Glory.

i cannot wait. i cannot wait. i cannot wait.

but i will
for your dad,
for your brother,
for your sister.

i love you ian.






Tuesday, October 8, 2013

hurry back. hurry back.

Dearest Jesus,

Tell Ian hello.
Give him a hug for me.
Please let him know I miss him, especially his heart and his voice.
Tell him I love him.

I love you and I trust you, even when it hurts like this.

~ Yours


p.s. hurry back.




Sunday, September 29, 2013

"Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya, you killed my father, prepare to die."

Movies.

Our family has (had) a slight movie addiction and I think they blame it on me and my collection of nearly 600 movies... Princess Bride has (had) been a particular favorite of ours since before Ian could utter words. It came out the year Danny was born. If you have not seen it, quit reading now, go watch it and come back. I can wait.

We often walk(ed) around the house citing funny lines from movies (and good TV shows) whenever an opportune moment presented itself. We also worked very hard at saying things that were completely inappropriate, although well timed, to get someone to smile or laugh or pee themselves. It is (was) our way to have fun and to be silly. Until 5 months ago we did this everyday or nearly everyday without fail. Even when the kids were at school it became a texting game.

Public mocking of our children (to prepare them for the cruel world) was instituted at all possible moments and guess what - they can (could) laugh at themselves better than anyone.

And as a family of five we laugh(ed). We giggle(d). We smile(d) each time we were able to sneak a "good one" in.

Some of my favorites:

"The panda is dead."

"Can you leave me alone for just five more minutes? I just got into the third act." [with an English voice and moving sock puppet] "Yes! Close the door! It's bloody chilly in here!"

"May the schwartz be with you!"

Ian about drove me nuts with "That's what she said." To the point I could do it as quickly as he could to just about every person I ran across in every conversation...and by the way...it is not tactful to do it all the time. Caylea also mastered this phrase. It's catchy, dang it.

Greg and I talk(ed) a LOT about sex in front of the kids as they got older, especially if we knew they could hear us but they thought we were being private. A FUN game. If our kids have (had) any questions still unanswered it is because we don't "do it" that way! (Sorry, could not help myself.) And we threatened nudity if the going got tough. It works like a charm. [For all you aghast at the thought we would discuss sex as a normal part of everyday life that could be fun, well check out Song of Solomon - as usual God says it best!)

Greg walk(ed) around making up goofy songs to go with whatever was going on. We should have recorded him! It was that ridiculous and funny.

Ian re-enacting Wolverine as a young kid - knives and all (see old Facebook post). Listening to Caylea and Danny do a Harry Potter lines while Ian and I just said "what?"

Monty Python offered tons of material. The black night with his "just a flesh wound", the old man with "I'm not dead yet" and King Arthur requesting "the holy hand grenade" for the Killer Rabbit of Caerbannog...I have already heard three times today from Greg, Danny and Caylea quoting without the help of the internet:
First shalt thou take out the Holy Pin, then shalt thou count to three, no more, no less. Three shall be the number thou shalt count, and the number of the counting shall be three. Four shalt thou not count, neither count thou two, excepting that thou then proceed to three. Five is right out. Once the number three, being the third number, be reached, then lobbest thou thy Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch towards thy foe, who being naughty in My sight, shall snuff it.
Teaching the kids to dance, but by first showing them what not to do - which entailed smashing our bodies as close together so that we end up prone and kissing....you get the idea.

Oh, this is funny and may get me in trouble, even with E. We each had a "thing" - something we did that was completely embarrassing that we NEVER let each other forget. So here it is for the world to read. Greg's involves pinching his own nipples in public. I am not making this up. I was there. I wish I wasn't, but I was. Mine is flipping off the Girl Scouts (not fully extended fingers, but, yes, with both hands). Danny's involved jumping out of a moving car and getting his foot run over - in his defense - his was the most painful. Caylea's was accidentally backing her car into her aunt's car during a parallel parking exercise - as she gunned it. Ian's was undressing while going through a scanner at the courthouse to tuck his shirt in and standing there like a deer caught in the headlights, pants wide open, whitey tighties in plain sight. Twice.

The boys at 13, 16 and 18 had to "suffer" through Hello Kitty or Barbie themed birthday parties. And for their 13th birthdays had to do a scavenger hunt where they went door to door asking our neighbors to wear make up, clean lent dryers, put on wedding dresses; you get the idea. For Ian's 18th birthday we wrapped every single thing in his room in foil, including his drawers, what was in them and the ceiling fans.

The boys as teenagers were also inducted into the Vageena Club. Ask Becky. It was all her. And they loved it.

Back to Princess Bride. Ian came home two years ago from a week at Bible camp and their team name was "Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya, you killed my father, prepare to die." Seriously. It. is. a. long. name. And Ian was the one who suggested it to his group. That became the catch phrase for months for everything. I know people thought we worshiped that movie for a time.

Now is the point you may want to stop reading. These are good and wonderful memories and there are many more like them we will share over time. But the rest of this blog gets heavy....

Still reading? Then I need you to pray for us. It has been rough around here and what made me remember all these funny things is how they are now missing.
Inigo Montoya: Do you hear that, Fezzik? That is the sound of ultimate suffering. My heart made that sound when the six-fingered man killed my father. 
It's "inconceivable" to me that my baby has gone Home.
It's "inconceivable" to me that my baby won't come home.
It's "inconceivable" to me that I won't hear his voice today or tomorrow.
It's "inconceivable" to me that he won't bear hug me.
It's "inconceivable" to me that our family will ever have joy again.
It's "inconceivable" to me that with this much pain I am able to take another breath.
It's "inconceivable" to me that I will continue to live after going through what I was sure would kill me.
It's "inconceivable" to me that I can survive this much pain.
It's "inconceivable" to me that the tears stop for awhile.
It's "inconceivable" to me that I won't be able to play with his hair.
It's "inconceivable" to me that life is so damn unfair.
It's "inconceivable" to me that we might take family pictures again.
It's "inconceivable" to me that Ian 'leap frogged' me into Heaven.
It's "inconceivable" to me that my baby is not here for me to hold and to love.
It's "inconceivable" to me that Ian won't tell me he loves me twice just to be sure he said it once.

In the movie Inigo says to Vizzini, "You keep using that word [inconceivable]. I do not think it means what you think it means."

I do think it means what I think it means. And I think it is by the grace of God I can ponder these things, learn to believe them slowly overtime and still be inexhaustibly sad about them, but not be able to fully grasp them in the here and now. For surely, if these things were truly conceivable I would cease to breathe.

One thing that is conceivable is my love for my son and his for me (thank you Roland for the reminder):
Westley: I told you I would always come for you. Why didn't you wait for me?
Buttercup: Well... you were dead.
Westley: Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a while.
Buttercup: I will never doubt again.
Westley: There will never be a need.
and
Buttercup: You can't hurt me. Westley and I are joined by the bonds of love. And you cannot track that, not with a thousand bloodhounds, and you cannot break it, not with a thousand swords.
and
The Impressive Clergyman: And wuv, tru wuv, will fowow you foweva...
In these really deep and dark times I pray and read scripture. I was encouraged by a reading of Piper to memorize and hold tight to Isaiah 41:10:
fear not, for I am with you;
    be not dismayed, for I am your God;
I will strengthen you, I will help you,
    I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.
Maybe instead of movie/TV quotes we should have worked more on scripture...

I wuv you e. I will wuv you foweva.

[If you are getting the email version you will not see the photo that will be posted after noon on Sunday to this webpage. I am too tired to get it out tonight....wait...."THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID!"]





Thursday, September 26, 2013

A Word from E


("SAD" - single awareness day - but it has new meaning since April 19th.)


Thursday, September 19, 2013

Five months in no-man's land...by Dad

I feel stuck between yesterday, today and tomorrow.

Yesterday - the Beatles said it well:
Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away;
Now it looks as though they're here to stay;
Oh, I believe in yesterday.
Suddenly, I'm not half the man I used to be;
There's a shadow hanging over me;
Oh, yesterday came suddenly.
Five months ago yesterday became a dream, a wish, a desire ripped from my life as Ian abruptly left our home to enter his eternal home. Yesterday seems like the golden years, the good times, and today feels like I am stuck in mire and muck.

Today - How to live with the shadow covering so much of life? Exacerbated by memories, pictures, hopes and dreams? How to live maimed emotionally, spiritually and physically by the loss of Ian? How to find a new normal - when you just want yesterday? David Crowder reminds me that the shadow may be not just grief, but the very presence and protection of God (and yes Ian, as you would often tell me, it is in the key of B like almost all his songs!):
Life is full of light and shadow
O the joy and O the sorrow
O the sorrow
And yet will He bring
Dark to light
And yet will He bring
Day from night

When shadows fall on us
We will not fear
We will remember
When darkness falls on us
We will not fear
We will remember

When all seems lost
When we're thrown and we're tossed
We remember the cost
We rest in Him
Shadow of the cross (Shadows by DCB)
-------
Be merciful to me, O God, be merciful to me, for in you my soul takes refuge;
in the shadow of your wings I will take refuge, till the storms of destruction pass by. I cry out to God Most High, to God who fulfills his purpose for me. (Psalms 57:1-2)
Tomorrow - The key must be here. Going back to yesterday is impossible; dwelling in yesterday, today, is madness; ignoring the pain is impossible. Tomorrow must equate with hope - in Christ there is hope, for a future, reunion, joy and endurance for road to get there. In God's promises is the strength and hope for healing. As King David and Bono sang (good company!):
I waited patiently for the Lord;
he inclined to me and heard my cry.
He drew me up from the pit of destruction, out of the miry bog,
and set my feet upon a rock, making my steps secure.
He put a new song in my mouth,
a song of praise to our God.
Many will see and fear,
and put their trust in the Lord. (Psalms 40:1-3)
-------
How long to sing this song?
How long to sing this song?
How long...how long...how long...I long to sing a new song. (40 by U2)
Lord, draw me out of the pit, put a new song in my mouth, glorify Your Name. Lead me from my yesterday to Your tomorrow - please do this starting today. Until then I will be:
waiting for our blessed hope, the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior Jesus Christ, who gave himself for us to redeem us from all lawlessness and to purify for himself a people for his own possession who are zealous for good works. (Titus 2:13-14)
Yesterday, today, tomorrow....
Yesterday, today, tomorrow.

Saturday, September 14, 2013

Q&A

So much has happened since Silver Taps (click here for Silver Taps article on Ianjust a little over a week ago. For example a sermon on missional community (Bible Study), where we are to lean on each other for support during our life journey. And, boy, do Greg and I lean on the beautiful people in our Bible Study!  This week we talked about lots of silly fun things and we talked about Ian and choices, about adoption and about heaven and sorrow. There was also a sermon on the gospel and how to live as God's poem in the time we have (click here for excellent sermon: Gospel & Community).

Those of us who are left behind, not like the book series Left Behind, but left behind when someone whose such an integral part of your world leaves such a gaping void that is truly indescribable,  in vain we look for answers to questions that will not be answered on this side of Heaven. They will only be answered once we truly go Home....not that any answer would change how we feel. Truly it's difficult, even impossible, to believe any answer would alleviate our sorrow, yet, the questions are still there. 

Questions like why didn't Ian pull over? Why was there a bus in that exact location? Why me? Why me after so much in my life has already been difficult does the rest of it have to be sad? Why do our most fervent prayers go unanswered? 

So here are some of my "answers" after the sermon series and Bible Study that may change as time passes because we cannot be certain (yet). 

I don't think the reason Ian did not pull over that day was because he believed he was indestructible as most 19-year-olds think they are. I don't think he pulled over that day because he had no fear of dying. He was not a daredevil, but he also wasn't scared of losing his life. He was secure in who he was and lived life to the fullest. He lived his life as Caylea so aptly pointed out 19 hours (huh, 19 hours...) after his Homecoming as though he were ready (Luke 12:35-48). Not a daredevil, not overly cautious, just without fear because he was ready. 

So why me? After so much in my life has already been difficult why does the rest of it have to be tinged with sadness and heartache? Flip, the one true answer leads to another question: "Why not me?" Who am I that I should not suffer if Jesus was willing to suffer for me. 


And, Lord, why not me, instead of Ian? The answer to that question seems to be that if Ian was ready and fulfilled his purpose here, I have not. Since his passing, believe me when I say I am ready! But, in all honesty, do I live that out? Clearly I have not completed my purpose here. Most days I even wonder what it is. I was reminded at the Austin Stone on Sunday to live out the Gospel as though I'm God's poem, not a seat warmer on Sunday mornings. 

Why do some of my prayers go unanswered, especially those on April 19th? I prayed from the bottom of my soul out through the top of my lungs that afternoon that my child be spared. I prayed and begged God. Begged. Pleaded. And begged more. And, in the end, before we ever even talked to the Trooper I knew the answer to my question. I knew my prayers were in vain, yet I still had to ask. I still had to ask. It's not fair to say God didn't answer my prayer. He did. I just didn't, don't and won't ever, at least here on earth, like His answer. People have actually said I cannot be mad at God. Well, I can prove otherwise. Just ask Him. 

And it's always so odd to me that others feel they know the answers! Many people in trying to provide comfort have said "he's in a better place" and "he wouldn't come home if he could." Duh. I'm not that naive. I know my child is in a better place. These aren't answers to the questions I have and they bring little comfort reminding me what I already know because the comfort I long for is my child's smile, the warmth of his hugs and the non stop chattiness in my now very quiet world. You don't have the answers any more than I do. I know you want to help and be a comfort, so cry with me, hug me, tell me stories about my son and know its okay not to have the answers. 

But, from a conversation this week in Bible Study, I began to wonder (yes, in vain, tried to find another answer) if Ian had been given the choice at the moment of impact to survive and stay here on earth for another 70 years or to go be with Jesus in person for all eternity which would he choose? 

If you knew Ian and the compassion and empathy that is in his heart it would seem he would instantly answer that he would stay here. He would never intentionally cause so many people grief and sadness, especially his momma! It seems he would stay simply so he could keep on loving people. 

But that conversation challenged me to really consider this question of choice. Challenged me, because Ian loved God first and foremost and that for him it would most likely not even be a choice.  Christ, for Ian, would be the only choice. (MercyMe sings it - Finally Home).

Truth be told, once we turn to Jesus we are adopted as sons and daughters. Ian went Home. I keep saying that, but he really did. He left his temporary home to go to his real Home. The one he was chosen by God, in God's perfect timing (clearly not mine) to join. He was invited by the Holy of holies to enter Glory! 

Heaven. What must it be like? Walking hand-in-hand with the creator of the universe as a full time worshipper, getting all your questions answered--questions that are now burning in me. I would want Ian to choose here. The mom in me wants him to choose based on my selfish desires for grand-babies and daughter-in-laws, well one daughter-in-law, and to watch Ian growing and learning and being. I want him here to fill this big gaping void in my heart and in my mind.  

But God, ever so gently,  keeps whispering in my soul - Ian would have made the better choice, the only choice, to come Home. 

While I wait to go Home I pray that others can lean on me, that I live like a child adopted by the King, like His poem, living out the Gospel in my life just as everyday since Ian's Homecoming has been proof that's what he did. May I be ready. 

"Homesick" by MercyMe



Monday, September 2, 2013

Pride and Prejudice and Winnie the Pooh

Dearest Butthead,

"You have bewitched me body and soul, and I love, I love, I love you."

Ok, so you know as well as I do that was a romantic line from Pride and Prejudice since you were the only male to read it for 9th grade English AP, but, nevertheless it is a true statement from me to you. And because it's true I have been mad with you and calling you "Butthead" for two weeks. Why didn't you pull over if you were so tired? Why?

So, Butthead, let me tell you what's on my mind as if you were right here (as I know you must be). We all make choices and they have consequences and, except on rare occasion, those choices/consequences impact others. Yes, I know we have had this conversation before, but it feels worthy of having again, if just for myself.

And, I know of what I speak. When I was seventeen and thought having a baby would provide me ALONE with love, my choice had lifelong consequences for myself, his dad, Danny and all of our family, all of our friends and even your dad and his parents and their friends, and the list continues. Some of the consequences of my choices have been negative, as you know. But so many God has used to bring glory to Himself, redeeming what could have been a most disastrous choice on my part.

Over 19 years I have watched you make choices that have consistently put others first. You listened and absorbed what others said, but more importantly, felt what their hearts were saying and the consequences were always the same; a new, deep and lasting relationship that made others feel safe, important, understood and loved.

You have also made some choices that cost you time, energy and money; for example, losing your car for 6 months and then later after making an even more stupid - yes, stupid - choice, having your car sold as a consequence! That was a pain for all of us - not just you - giving you rides or you just missing out on things. But in the same year, you chose to give your six month old XBox 360 to a nine year old boy because he didn't have a play system, a boy you never met.

You chose to carry a Hello Kitty backpack your senior year of high school, the consequences of such I can only guess....but I'm sure it allowed you to connect with others, even if just spurring a new conversation which would become a new friendship.

You made so many good choices and so many great choices and so many sacrificial choices along with plenty of moronic choices most teenage boys make, that when you chose not to make one of the simplest choices--by pulling over when you were sleepy--it is so hard to stay mad at you. But dang it, that one simple choice has impacted so many people.

People all over the world are weeping for you, weeping for us, weeping for our family, weeping for friends (FYI - you had too many to count), weeping because no one else can make them smile like you did, weeping because they will never have their personal space invaded by that big "curvaceous" behind of yours and infectious laugh, weeping because you loved unconditionally.

But many have turned to God because of your ministry here and clearly, God has used even your choice that day to bring glory to Himself, redeeming what will always be the worst day of our lives.

So, today you are lovingly my Butthead and as I read this quote by A. A. Milne who wrote Winnie the Pooh I thought of you: "How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye [for now] so hard."

Ian, I love, I love, I love you.

Mom

p.s. Every moment we miss you.


Sunday, August 25, 2013

Yours Alone


In the Day of Trouble I Seek the Lord
I cry aloud to God, aloud to God, and he will hear me. In the day of my trouble I seek the Lord; in the night my hand is stretched out without wearying; my soul refuses to be comforted. When I remember God, I moan; when I meditate, my spirit faints. You hold my eyelids open; I am so troubled that I cannot speak. I consider the days of old, the years long ago. I said, “Let me remember my song in the night; let me meditate in my heart.” Then my spirit made a diligent search: “Will the Lord spurn forever, and never again be favorable? Has his steadfast love forever ceased? Are his promises at an end for all time? Has God forgotten to be gracious? Has he in anger shut up his compassion?” Then I said, “I will appeal to this, to the years of the right hand of the Most High.” I will remember the deeds of the Lord; yes, I will remember your wonders of old. I will ponder all your work, and meditate on your mighty deeds. Your way, O God, is holy. What god is great like our God? You are the God who works wonders; you have made known your might among the peoples. Psalm 77:1-14 (ESV)
I have been both anxious to tell of God's miracles in our lives, but also scared to blog some of them for fear of judgment as a whack job who is reading way too much into things. Well, let me set all naysayers straight, I believe in a God who can do miracles, a God who works wonders. I believe in a God who is bigger and better and beyond my limited imagination. I also believe that through the loss of Ian I see God in my life in new ways to me (not that He has changed!). I believe He has been there all along, but I have new eyes to see His miraculous touch in my life in particular. So, to God’s Miracles for the Pogue Family and others that we do know of firsthand.

The Parting of the Red Sea MiraclesThe ones that come along once in a lifetime.
On Mother’s Day at 6 am Greg and I were lying in bed talking as we had for the past two weeks every morning. These talks allowed us to share what was on our hearts and we both wanted Ian home…we wanted to be with him…and then I heard “Mom.” Greg and I both stopped in the middle of our conversation and looked toward the bedroom doors. We waited and waited. I finally said, “did you hear someone call Mom?” Greg looked at me and said, “No, I heard someone call Dad.” We laid there for a few minutes soaking it in. Then Greg got up and checked the house. All five pets were sleeping as was Caylea. We believe without doubt, God opened Heaven so we could hear Ian call our names. Thank you, thank you, thank you. May we not forget.

The day after Greg’s birthday and Ian’s one month Homecoming anniversary I was taking a mid-morning nap and had a vision – a glimpse of Heaven – not a dream. I rarely recall a dream and it always gets fuzzy within minutes of waking – always. Well, this particular morning I was dozing in and out of sleep and found myself walking in a place that had silver sidewalks and silver water that flowed through the streets but no one seemed to be wet. I then saw one of my sisters with beautiful short dark hair working with a clipboard and she was filled with joy. Shelley, work and joy have never occupied the same space, sentence or thought! I then saw my sister who was not blessed with the most hair in the family – albeit beautiful – but very thin. Mandi was sitting and brushing her hair that swept thick, beautiful and long (all the way to her ankles) and she just looked up at me and smiled. (I did notice a very attractive man sitting next to her as well with dark hair.) I then was walking around and as I turned I saw Ian. Ian just as he had looked the last time I saw him except in his El Salvador shirt, but still wearing a beany, jeans and smiling ear to ear. He said “Hi Mom” and hugged me. I was so astonished I pushed him away at arms length, grasped both of his ginormous biceps and said “I thought you were dead.” [Not my most eloquent moment.] He replied, “No Mom, I am okay. I love you.” And my vision ended. For a brief moment I saw into Heaven and was able to touch, listen and talk to my child. I wish I had said more, but I know Ian knows my heart.
  • The leap from dream to vision was not difficult. I never thought it was a dream, but to confirm I believe God caused my cortisol levels to increase just as much as they had done when we initially learned of his death and Greg and I were extremely dehydrated for many hours. I “woke” extremely dehydrated just as though it were that first day. I have never experienced that kind of dehydration except that first day and the morning of my vision.
  • The leap from dream to vision was also not difficult because with my prescription for Ambien I have not had a single dream, not one.
  • Also, both a book and a friend confirmed the “working” in Heaven thing which threw me for a bit. Still need to read more about that.
  • Lastly, if it had been a dream I surely would have said something more fitting for the occasion…like “I love you and miss you.” Or if really a dream…“Come home.”

Others have chimed in with their own visions and dreams where Ian has said with a big grin “I am okay and I love you” while giving those big bear hugs he was so good at for both family and friends.
  •  In Caylea’s words: My dream/turned vision of Ian was odd. It began with me watching a cartoon similar to Courage the Cowardly Dog, although the cartoon was interacting with me and talking to me incoherently. I was in the room with Lucy (our puppy), who was dominating my attention with her excited state. I felt someone was watching me, but did not give any mind to it. I decided I wanted to leave the room and had to ‘trick’ the cartoon to get out the room by giving it a piece of candy. In the new room, I noticed Ian was standing there (~8-9 years old) wearing one of his (really Dad’s) large red shirts and large khaki shorts. When I saw Ian, I ran to him, hugged him and repeated “I love you” three times before waking. 
  •  One was a vision a friend had where Ian said he did not recall the accident, all he knew was fell asleep and woke in Heaven. 
  • I am in awe how God uses dreams and visions to bring comfort to those who need it when they need it.

My “wounded healer” and her family. On Mother’s Day we arrived home after 20 hours of bringing Danny to Austin to find a condolence card in our front basket. I didn’t know who Emily and Nancy were, but the card held the perfect words for the day I had experienced and even after only two weeks I could begin to feel healing. I learned through Facebook within an hour that Ian carried Emily’s books for her in the dorm, that was the extent of their “relationship”, but more so I had learned that Emily lost her precious brother 4 years before and offered her mom Nancy’s phone number and email address should I feel a need to reach out. My friendship with Nancy and I, Greg’s with Richard, Caylea’s with Emily, and maybe one day soon, Danny’s with Kester, (and no doubt Ian’s heavenly relationship with Josh) have been an ongoing miracle for us personally, as well as families as we struggle living out 1 Peter 1:3-7:
Born Again to a Living Hope: Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you, who by God's power are being guarded through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time. In this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, so that the tested genuineness of your faith—more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire—may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ.
On our way home from Europe in which we cried and cried and ended as soon as Greg finished work rather than staying for another week, I was beginning to feel quiet anxious about coming home and not having Ian here to greet us. He was supposed to take care of the house and animals while we were gone….
  • We came home and as we unpacked, Caylea opened her mail and left it on the kitchen counter. I glanced over and saw her license plate (not preordered!) and it was Ian’s birthday – “BTY 12/28!” It was as if Ian were home greeting us. Thank you Lord.
  • The very next morning Danny sent me a photo of his license “BYT 9319”. Ian was born in ’93 and went home on the 19th when he was 19. In fact, Caylea pointed out that the 3+1=4 for April – April 19th, his Homecoming date!
  • Each of our earthly children have our heavenly child reminding them he is with them all the time.

Last year at Texas A&M fish camp Ian wrote a letter to himself regarding his hopes for his first year, as well as his fears. It was then sealed and self-addressed. The leaders then mailed them this summer to the students and the person who was Ian’s leader wrote to us the directions for the letter and that he hoped it also brought us comfort. The leader also shared that he very much enjoyed having Ian in his group and felt Ian was an awesome “man of God.” I cried when I read what he wrote, but with much trepidation I read Ian’s very short letter to himself. The first sentence was about making the most of his first year (and from the sounds of it, he did). His second sentence was his fear – becoming the “man of God” he was called to be. Clearly, he accomplished this as his own words were repeated not only by his leader a year later, but by so many over and over throughout the weeks following his Homecoming.

Mandi…a transcript from my conversation with my beautiful sister.
  • “The beauty I saw that day…even with all the sadness, I saw beauty, and I believe that was the first time my eyes were truly opened to see God twinkle before my eyes.”
  • The day of Ian’s Celebration Service had many trigger points. The complete surrender of everyone interlocked and praising God with hands raised was the strongest. Witnessing young men comforting Danny, Caylea taking advice from a nine year old Ian regarding “owning” their own faith and Greg and I holding raised hands praising God. Mandi knew she was missing out on something watching the “sea of kids raising their hands at Ian’s Celebration” and not only wanted it for herself, but for her children. She began praying (not even realizing that was what she was already doing) to believe in something bigger than themselves.
  • Strengthened a journey she had already started on. Desires a quarter of the faith she observed that day at Ian’s Celebration Service for herself and her family.
  • Began attending a church after quite a bit of research and started attending with Shelley and was very nervous about all aspects of going, including what to wear and whether even to go. And, then she was there! The service was on Mother’s Day and there was a video that was very impactful – including an auto accident in the video causing all to cry and not much else was remembered.
  • After returning from the second Sunday service the kids wanted to know how many more days until church! Mandi’s heart was filled with joy seeing that her prayers were already being answered. Keeps going over and over to church each Sunday whether with others or by herself and cries the whole time – a good cry.
  • Believes more and more in the Gospel, and each day that her faith is stronger than the day before and has begun to pray about baptism and the courage to overcome anxiety to really make a public profession of faith, for herself and for her children because it is a journey they are on together.
  • Mandi shared that Ian would have added so much to her family's life whether laughter, smiles, stories, and music over the years had he stayed here on earth, but instead he added something eternal to their lives – the opportunity to go Home, too.


The Water Gushing from a Rock MiraclesWhen we are parched and need God’s presence in undeniable ways.
In prayers answered as we are in the middle of praying (sometimes without even realizing what we are saying is a prayer). This is just several of the very first examples:
  •  I did not want to see any of my children lifeless. The accident was bad enough that I did not get a chance or have to see Ian.
  • That Ian was unaware of the accident as it was about to happen. Autopsy, donation information and conversations with the professionals at the scene have confirmed he was asleep, not alert, not aware. So even though all of this information was overwhelmingly difficult to take in and it brought us to our knees, we know our child did not suffer physical or emotional pain even for a moment. [Side note, Greg’s mom did not want us to be alone when the autopsy information came in. During the two weeks it was due we were alone, however, it did not come in for five more weeks and when I received the call there were six people who loved on me in our home.]
  • No one else was seriously injured.
  • He had not used his phone to text, web search or make calls in the hour prior to the accident according to phone records.

Jeff Mangum, a pastor at The Austin Stone Community Church, was on sick leave for several months and was cleared just one week prior to Ian’s Homecoming. Caylea had babysat for Jeff and his wife and when Jeff heard about Ian he immediately volunteered to do the service. He did not know Ian prior to volunteering, but as he learned more in just a few short days he discovered he and Ian were kindred spirits. They each had suffered from sleeping disorders, each had been filled with the gift of extreme empathy, each loved talking and doing and not staying still…In fact, the morning Jeff came to visit us he was awakened at 3 am to read about Stephen and God confirmed this was the message he was to deliver. We cried as he talked to us because we heard God’s voice clearly coming from Jeff and we were comforted. Bonus blessing – Jimmy McNeil was able to lead the worship – E’s favorite (and the Pogue family’s favorite) worship leader, no disrespect to the others who we also love.

Ian’s full time ‘ministry’ was people.
  • See Mandi's story above!
  • One of the things he was doing was preparing his mop on his head for a donation to Locks of Love and it would be at least two years before that was to be accomplished – a long two years because his hair grew out rather than down! Within a week of his Homecoming 13 people had donated 9” to 20” of their own hair to Locks of Love with others planning to do so as their own hair hits the right length!
  • Ian gave what he felt was a meagerly $40 a month to Austin Stone’s intern program – but he mentioned to me that he knew God was faithful even for the little things and could multiply them – and God did – the latest donation was $7,400 to the internship – more than Ian would have given in 15 years!!!
  • Ian was hyper concerned with people being healthy and wanted to spread his own love for health with others. Since his Homecoming there have been regular donations of blood and platelets by his family and friends. But even more so, his own donation of tissue and bone will most likely help more than 100 people!!!
  • I am so proud of my son and his ministry that has allowed God to show miracle after miracle to prove Ian’s life had more significance than we could have imagined that would have followed after only 19 years.

In finding 72 voice and guitar/bass recordings after his Homecoming. We did not know he had ever recorded himself! The first time I have ever heard him sing as an adult was the night before Mother's Day and the first voice recording I heard was “How He Loves Us.” We also found a full version of a guitar solo song he wrote. Praise God - Greg was devastated that he never learned the song himself, and now he can.

Tobi, my friend, my sister and my mentor. For six years I have known her as Tobi. You may recall her standing next to my sister Heather (taller blond/red head) during the Celebration Service on stage with me. Well, on a really tough emotional day in which I had to figure out how to get Ian’s car into the junkyard’s ownership I asked Tobi to lend a hand and fill out all kinds of paperwork establishing heirship. When I first saw the paperwork I stared at it for a long time and then the tears flowed. “Tob-ian-na” had completed the documents as necessary with her full name. I had always felt Tobi and Ian were kindred spirits and now I had proof and a bit more healing. Six years…proof God’s plan is perfect, even if it isn’t the one we would choose, He shows us daily (if we have the eyes to see) that He is in every detail. 

The Daily Manna MiraclesWhen we need sustenance to keep our emotional energy turned toward God.
Although changes are not easy for many of us, Danny has never been one to embrace it and poor guy had change slammed down his throat this year. On Mother’s Day he moved to Austin to be close to us (praise God!) and began looking for a job that would take him out of his previous lifestyle of cash and empty pockets and no evenings or weekends available. Without any previous experience, and with some prompting from a friend to apply, he was able to earn a position as a paralegal that is Monday through Friday and optional overtime on the weekends only one mile from his own apartment [another praise]!

Caylea was planning to do a study abroad this Summer in Spain, but with Ian’s going Home, well, things changed. UT was willing to refund her full trip and American Airlines refunded her ticket completely. Without this trip, Caylea considered summer school to accelerate her graduation date or an internship in a company. Being several months behind in the application process, getting an internship was very unlikely. But through the assistance of her Uncle Kurt and grandfather, her resume was put before the hiring managers at Mustang Engineering. They recognized her potential and invited her for an interview. At the interview, she impressed the manager – but a position was unlikely, since he already had his “fill” of interns. So, Caylea began attending summer classes. Then the call came – she had an internship at Mustang! The value of the internship was clear – so she headed to Houston to stay with the Gross family – a blessing on both sides. And once again God intervened and UT fully reimbursed us her for classes well after the deadline! 

We received more life insurance money than expected to fund missions (especially Brendan’s trip to Africa – see separate amazing legacy blog) and school loan forgiveness to fund therapy and resources for coping with deep loss – including family tattoos to honor Ian by a Christian tattoo artist who has become like family to us.

Texas A&M has a tradition, along with others in the Silver Taps process, to dedicated a book in the Sterling Evans Library to the fallen Aggie (using a silver dedication page). The book Texas A&M sent as “Ian’s book” was one they hand selected for his major (he had not moved from general studies to exercise physiology yet) and Caylea thinks they selected the book by eeny-meeny-miny-moe and it was a ‘pre-automobile park and landscape book,’ including the intriguing chapter on “The Reconstruction of Plath National Park 1930-1935.” Clearly, Ian would have only cared about this topic if Frisbee were involved! I spoke with the library group and in a 2 minute search found a book dealing with strength and conditioning training for team sports. A&M agreed that this book would be an excellent addition to their library and purchased the book basically as a remembrance to Ian. Here is where God stepped in...I sent the book as an example, I had no idea if it was a good selection! However, God knew and great reviews surrounded the book – with the exception of one that said it “had too much research.” That would have excited Ian as he habitually searched out the best manners for exercise and would teach all who would listen the best practices. The paperback book also had the cool action shot of a basketball player doing a hammer dunk – one Ian wished he could do on a 10 foot goal! We think that many exercise physiology, athletic training and pre-PT students will find the book interesting and also see this fitting memorial to what Ian loved – health, fitness, teaching and training.

In July many of Ian’s friends were coming for a week to visit with us and bring us encouragement. I was very anxious about the bittersweet times I anticipated. That Monday morning as I was running errands for the six visitors to begin arriving that evening it started to rain…This was a miracle! I had been waiting for it to rain for two months since Ian’s passing so I could participate in his favorite activity – walking in the rain barefoot. It was as if he said – I am here with you and will be there with you all the time. So, as I walked barefoot on University of Texas campus in my Texas A&M shirt crying and thanking God for His timing, I am sure the t-sippers thought I had not only lost my mind, but my way too as an Aggie.

Nathaniel Cole Gross had a middle name randomly chosen because it sounded nice – unlike his brothers who were named after family members. After Ian’s Homecoming, Nate, E’s younger cousin, asked us if he could change his middle name from Cole to Alexander to honor Ian. The answer was a resounding “YES!” Nate, Shelley and Kurt went before the judge and tearfully and with much joy took on this name linking these loving cousins together in a more intimate manner. At this same time, Nate was engaged in a contest with other football players in Katy to sell the most tumblers to raise money. The top prize was an iPad mini. Nate called us Saturday night to tell us that he had won the contest and a second prize existed. They were going to name a football field after the winner for the coming year. Nate deferred having his name on the field and suggested that they name the field after Ian. So, for the 2013-2014 school year, kids in Katy will play sports on the “Ian Alexander Pogue” field – thanks to the care and generosity of his cousin Nathaniel Alexander Gross! God loves children and calls them to himself and clearly has Nate’s name on his lips.

And these were only the miracles we have witnessed. Daily we receive text messages, email messages, pictures, stories, and visits from family, friends or adopted children that keep us standing when we feel we will surely fall – all signs of God’s good and mighty deeds.
My mouth will tell of your righteous acts, of your deeds of salvation all the day, for their number is past my knowledge. With the mighty deeds of the Lord God I will come; I will remind them of your righteousness, YOURS ALONE. (Psalm 71:15, 16 ESV)