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

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. 

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.

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.