Joy and Sorrow

Yesterday marked one year since Rick's youngest brother, Bryan drowned in Lake Michigan. One full year without our family feeling whole. One full year without hearing Daniel and Bryan play music together. One full year of eerie disbelief. The day came like other days. And though we've been sensing it's approach for months, it still seemed to sneak up on us somehow. And the ordinariness of the day-- the regular rising of the sun and moving hands of the clock was somehow offensive and comforting at the same time.

It has been a long, tiring year of devastating sorrow and tremendous joy co-existing together. A full year and an empty year. On Saturday we moved out of our house into the upstairs apartment in a brick two-flat with Rick's Mom. For a lot of reasons this move has the potential to be good all around. For us, for Alice, and for the refugees we will be able to help with the money we're saving. Sunday after church we spent time just being together with Alice and Daniel. It was good to have a long slow day together. It seems like we haven't had one in awhile. And there are no slow days ahead. Rick has finals this week. We have to finish moving and unpacking. And sometime between this Friday and next Tuesday we will be closing on a five unit apartment building that will become BRYAN HOUSE, a living memorial to Bryan that will help countless refugee families move into homeownership and break the cycle of poverty. Refugees are people who know sorrow and loss. And in the midst of that they have this uncanny ability to teach us about joy.

I continue to be amazed at what happens and changes in one year. We miss you, Bryan. I pray that remembering you will push us to be better people, more generous and more aware of the value of each day.

BRYAN HOUSE COMING SOON!