You are probably wondering at this point, what happened? The story begins in 2003, September 3rd, I was at cheerleading practice when we received the call, it's a boy! My youngest brother had finally escaped my mother's womb and entered into this big scary world!
This bundle of joy, such a blessing to our family! My Pops had plans for him and Buzz once the older two boys graduated, he would still have two boys, and they would do chores, and look out for each other. Four years passed, four years of complete and utter bliss with this little blonde-haired blue-eyed boy!
On July 2nd, 2008, later in the evening, sometime after 5 or 6 or so, I get a call. I was working at the elevator (during crazy wheat harvest time) a few blocks down and across the railroad tracks from my parents' house. My boss had seen ambulance lights in front of my house and told me my brother had wrecked his bike, and if I wanted/needed to go I should. WELL, selfish me wanting to make more money, and knowing if I leave, I will not be getting paid for my time, thought, "it's a bike wreck. I'll drive to Oakley after work in a few hours. Everything will be fine." (Oakley is just 20 minutes away so this seemed alright for me.) I called my older sisters and let them know what was going on since they are out of town and didn't figure calling them was my Momma's priority at the time. My Mom rode in the ambulance on the way to Oakley and my older brother drove there following, and ended up riding in the helicopter wit my Mom to Wichita as they flight-for-lifed my youngest brother, just 4 years old at the time.
He ended up dying from internal bleeding in Wichita at around 3 am that morning, almost to have surgery, when the doctor came out of prepping him for surgery and told Mom to go in and say goodbye because he wasn't going to make it through the surgery so they weren't even going to start.
I tell you what, I screamed at God. I cried. I questioned. I hated. I was a very angry (yes angry) person there for a while, a long while actually.
BUT I was strong (mostly). I kept it together when I was around anyone. I didn't cry, I held them and let them cry on my shoulder. I assisted with tasks that others were trying to do. I cooked, I cleaned, I did anything to distract me. Maybe that was my initial way of coping, keeping myself busy helped me not dwell on what was happening around me. Then came the funeral, and trust me I definitely cried there. I cry so much at every funeral, but that was the hardest day of my entire life. I don't know if you have ever buried someone very close to you in your lifetime, and I am incredibly sorry if you have, but it is hard. I never wanted to let them close the casket, even though I knew he was dead, and looked a lot different. I just wanted to sit there and stare at him and memorize everything about him, but they had to do it, then he was lowered into the ground. I see that picture in my mind everyday.
I finally can tell this story without crying for an hour afterwards. I remember the last conversation we had. I have many pictures from that summer, I look at a picture, and I don't see a picture, I remember the place, the time, what we were giggling over, why we were dressed that way, why he was making such a cute silly face, who we were with. As much as I want him here on Earth with us, because simply his presence was a blessing, his joy all over his face all the time, and that smile, as contagious as the common cold.
Now. When I look at the person I was before the accident, (typically a blessed and content girl) I see a stranger.
I was naive, yet all-knowing, weak, but a hard-worker. Life wasn't all about me, but I made it that way as often as possible. I enjoyed helping the elderly, but even more when earthly rewards were involved. I loved being involved in extracurricular clubs and events, but mostly when they got me out of school. I worked my tail off to start on the varsity volleyball and basketball teams and enjoyed spending time wit friends, who usually outranked time with my family.
Now, I am completely and honestly trying every hour of every day to be devoted to His way, His plans, His pleasure, His hopes, His attitude. My family is second only to Him. I know with all my heart that God has a plan for me today, this hour. That He is my lifeline, my best friend, my Father. The One who gives and takes away.
"But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us." ~Romans 5:8
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