The homeschooling blogosphere has been filled with the news of Dozer's death. I don't know Marsha or David and haven't been following their blog very long. Even so, I keep bringing them up in morning prayer.
Every morning, employees here at Sonlight gather to pray together for unreached people groups, things going on in the company, our lives, the lives of those we know, and our customers who submit requests. We mourn with those who mourn and rejoice with those who rejoice. But sometimes it is hard to go back to work after a particularly sobering morning.
But we go back to work because life goes on, even if life will never be the same for those for whom we have prayed. Yet despite the pain, the changes, the gaps or lasting aches, life doesn't change all that much for them either.
And that's the thing that is tweaking with me today: Life isn't the same, but it isn't that different either. Like graduation, marriage, a new job, moving and many other major life events, life permanently shifts but doesn't change that much. We still go to work, spend time with our family, eat, sleep... we're still ourselves, just slightly altered by our experience.
And so it felt odd today to write about the trouble we have been having with Sonlight's website. I mean, that is such a small detail compared to death in a family. But, on the other hand, with the website down, families cannot get access to the materials or help they need. And while it makes perfect sense to pray about both, it feels odd to write about them both as well.
Sorry. This post has been mostly my musings and jumbled thoughts, and I felt I had to get them out there. It has taken me three tries to get to this point.
So we're praying for you and your family, Marsha and David. And we're also working on getting our site back up. We would appreciate your prayers as well--especially for Kurt, our IT guy who has been up almost all night.
~Luke Holzmann
Filmmaker, Writer, Expectant Father
Thank you both so much for your comments. I greatly appreciate your thoughts.
Will definitely keep praying for Marsha and David. The pain continues, even after the initial shock is over.
~Luke
Also praying for Marsha and David. May God grant you His comfort in your loss.
After thinking about Luke's post, I am reminded of the array of emotions I felt on September 11th, 2001. A nurse informed me that I would miscarry my baby - my miracle baby that God had blessed us with after three years of infertility - as she looked over my shoulder at the television. We both watched the second plane crash into the WTC only seconds after she gave me the news. I drove home numb with grief.
Surprisingly, I felt...selfish. How could I mourn this little one I would never see when so many others were mourning those with which they were intimately connected? But I also knew that mine was a justified sorrow. Life is precious, even a very small life. Insignificant to the world, my baby still had a God-given purpose. Some of this purpose was revealed to me as I leaned heavily on God during the next few months. Other facets of His plan I may know when I see Him in His glory, face to face. And some, by God's wisdom, I may never know. But the purpose of that tiny life was, and still is, great.
Fast forward seven years.
I am preparing for Katie's sixth birthday. She is such a special child. I cherish every moment that I have with her, and thank God that He has allowed me to be home with her. She would not be here if her older sibling had been born. My life would be so different without my Katie.
God is sovereign. He is in control of all things. When the consequences of sin pull us down to the depths, He reaches in and pulls beauty from the ashes.
Nothing hurts like losing a child, praying for Marsha and David.