Miriam has a much better way of words than I do. Here's a great memory in her words (as shared on Jordan's Legacy):
"The summer after Chris and I moved to North Carolina, we spent some vacation time there in the beautiful Smokey Mountains with Paula, Glenn, Ashlyn. Jordan, and his friend Chad. We were doing some hiking near the App Trail when the guys heard about this place called 'The Quarry" where they could jump 50+ feet off the side of this cliff into the water below. Jordan and Chad begged us to drive them out so they could make this insane jump. It was like these two were on a MISSION. Eventually, we get to the place and it is scary deep in the backwoods (think dueling banjo music). Regardless, the quarry is there and looking over the side of the cliff even I start to feel dizzy! The quarry is dug out of the ground and the water filling the bottom is this surreal shade of teal...really beautiful if it wasn't a complete death trap. Jordan was so excited he was sort of hopping around and rubbing his hands together. He would walk up to the side and look over, then put his hands on his head and look at us for a second. All I could do was shake my head 'no'. Jordan was so resolved though he just went for it. It makes me smile to think of how this jump was so important to him (bragging rights with his friends for sure)...He made the jump twice that day and it is one of my favorite memories of him."
Miriam Douglas, Jordan's Legacy entry
Monday, November 15, 2010
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Wrecked
Wrecked. A somewhat appropriate word for my first post in a long time.
Where do I begin?
I guess it would be fitting to address my writer's block and my lack of desire to blog for such a long time. I have never felt like much of a writer but felt like I should start a blog while on staff in North Carolina to share my thoughts and insights with many of our friends. I guess so I seemed normal and approachable. (I know what you're thinking. Normal? You? But that's a whole other topic for another day.) And also to establish a link with friends and family back home in Louisiana.
Then a huge season of change and heartache came into my life. And I was without words. For myself, much less for writing for a blog. I had a lot of questions and a lot of sorting out to do. There was stepping down from the church staff, the move back to Louisiana, starting a new job, finding a new church, my mom being diagnosed with breast cancer, my brother being in an accident, my dad having a heart attack, among other things that just made me feel emotionally and spiritually drained. How could I blog anything worthwhile during this time? I had nothing to offer.
Then the accident on November 7.
A dear friend, Jordan Gautreau, whom I had the privilege of having in my home on a weekly basis for Bible study when we lived in Baton Rouge years ago, was killed in a vehicle accident. (To get a glimpse into Jordan's life, browse through the entries at Jordan's Legacy.) He was putting a church sign in front of HPC on Highland Road when the accident occurred and one of the cars ran off the road, hitting Jordan. He breathed his last breath on earth and the next in heaven.
This was a tough one. I had so many questions. This was the first young person that we had the joy of serving to pass away. Compounding the sorrow was our relationship with his family. They have been incredible friends to us and are an extension of our family. My heart was broken for them. I cried. A lot. Broken. Wrecked.
As Miriam and I laughed and cried sharing our favorite memories about Jordan, the last day that I was able to spend with him came to mind. Paula, his mom, had put together a reunion for the kids that were in the Bible study and wanted us to come. That day, I was able to share in Jordan's excitement about all of the wonderful things going on in his life. I was able to tell him how proud I was of him. And we dreamed together.
He told me about how so many of his family lived close together. That he would one day buy the house near his dad's that his dad had sold years ago to another couple. We talked about family. And one young lady that he cared for deeply. He joked with me about every time he hears Lifehouse's song EVERYTHING, he thinks about me. When I questioned why, he simply stated, "You liked that song and we must have sung it every week in Bible study." And he was probably only slightly exaggerating.
When memories from that day came to mind, the story about his plans for the house he would one day own kept coming back to mind. I kept questioning God why He would allow a young man that had so much promise and such a bright future to be taken away from us so prematurely. It bothered me.
As I cried, my perspective began to change. If I could go back to that conversation that day with Jordan, I believe God was there with us and laughing. Here we were talking about this earthly house when Jesus was putting the finishing touches on Jordan's heavenly mansion. Silly boys. Sometimes we just don't get it. We don't see the big picture. After all, the house here just wouldn't do. Jordan would be a proud homeowner soon enough.
So one of the questions that I've gone back and forth with and I've struggled with became much easier to answer: Is ministry worth the sacrifice? That's a question I've struggled with but each and every one of us has our own heart questions to answer. Far too often we answer a question like this with the standard, easy, cookie cutter answer without really answering it from the depths of our heart. When you've had heartache and pain, sometimes the situations and emotions cause everything to be murky, foggy even.
So for the first time in a really long time, I felt compelled to write a new blog entry and to answer that simple but complicated question.
Thanks, Jordan, for making the answer oh so clear.
It's worth EVERYTHING.
Where do I begin?
I guess it would be fitting to address my writer's block and my lack of desire to blog for such a long time. I have never felt like much of a writer but felt like I should start a blog while on staff in North Carolina to share my thoughts and insights with many of our friends. I guess so I seemed normal and approachable. (I know what you're thinking. Normal? You? But that's a whole other topic for another day.) And also to establish a link with friends and family back home in Louisiana.
Then a huge season of change and heartache came into my life. And I was without words. For myself, much less for writing for a blog. I had a lot of questions and a lot of sorting out to do. There was stepping down from the church staff, the move back to Louisiana, starting a new job, finding a new church, my mom being diagnosed with breast cancer, my brother being in an accident, my dad having a heart attack, among other things that just made me feel emotionally and spiritually drained. How could I blog anything worthwhile during this time? I had nothing to offer.
Then the accident on November 7.
A dear friend, Jordan Gautreau, whom I had the privilege of having in my home on a weekly basis for Bible study when we lived in Baton Rouge years ago, was killed in a vehicle accident. (To get a glimpse into Jordan's life, browse through the entries at Jordan's Legacy.) He was putting a church sign in front of HPC on Highland Road when the accident occurred and one of the cars ran off the road, hitting Jordan. He breathed his last breath on earth and the next in heaven.
This was a tough one. I had so many questions. This was the first young person that we had the joy of serving to pass away. Compounding the sorrow was our relationship with his family. They have been incredible friends to us and are an extension of our family. My heart was broken for them. I cried. A lot. Broken. Wrecked.
As Miriam and I laughed and cried sharing our favorite memories about Jordan, the last day that I was able to spend with him came to mind. Paula, his mom, had put together a reunion for the kids that were in the Bible study and wanted us to come. That day, I was able to share in Jordan's excitement about all of the wonderful things going on in his life. I was able to tell him how proud I was of him. And we dreamed together.
He told me about how so many of his family lived close together. That he would one day buy the house near his dad's that his dad had sold years ago to another couple. We talked about family. And one young lady that he cared for deeply. He joked with me about every time he hears Lifehouse's song EVERYTHING, he thinks about me. When I questioned why, he simply stated, "You liked that song and we must have sung it every week in Bible study." And he was probably only slightly exaggerating.
When memories from that day came to mind, the story about his plans for the house he would one day own kept coming back to mind. I kept questioning God why He would allow a young man that had so much promise and such a bright future to be taken away from us so prematurely. It bothered me.
As I cried, my perspective began to change. If I could go back to that conversation that day with Jordan, I believe God was there with us and laughing. Here we were talking about this earthly house when Jesus was putting the finishing touches on Jordan's heavenly mansion. Silly boys. Sometimes we just don't get it. We don't see the big picture. After all, the house here just wouldn't do. Jordan would be a proud homeowner soon enough.
So one of the questions that I've gone back and forth with and I've struggled with became much easier to answer: Is ministry worth the sacrifice? That's a question I've struggled with but each and every one of us has our own heart questions to answer. Far too often we answer a question like this with the standard, easy, cookie cutter answer without really answering it from the depths of our heart. When you've had heartache and pain, sometimes the situations and emotions cause everything to be murky, foggy even.
So for the first time in a really long time, I felt compelled to write a new blog entry and to answer that simple but complicated question.
Thanks, Jordan, for making the answer oh so clear.
It's worth EVERYTHING.
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