"Something To Remind You" #32

So this is it

I say goodbye

To this chapter of my ever-changing life

And there's mistakes

The path is long

And I'm sure I'll answer for them when I'm gone

So when the day comes and

The sun won't touch my face

Tell the ones who cared enough

That I finally left this place

That's been so cold

Look at my face

All the stories it will tell I can't erase

The road is long

Just one more song

A little something to remind you when I'm gone

            When I'm gone

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I consider myself a “Man of God”. I am a Christian. Michele and I were married in a Baptist church. We have attended a handful of great churches over the last 14 years but have never really stuck. It’s not that we’ve felt un-welcomed or out of place. We just never made it over that long-term mark that made the Sunday expectation a true family habit. Neither of us was raised “in the church” but we’ve grown together in our own personal faith. We pray with our children over meals. We pray with our children at bedtimes.

I once told a story of “Boot Camp” Christians, attending regularly and finding God just to escape the Drill Instructors. If that’s what it takes to bring you closer to Jesus, than who am I to judge?

On I35 I tried to pray each morning on my drive to school. I tried to start each prayer off with how thankful I am – first for my wife and secondly for my children. Now that my commute here in Kivalina is less than 20 yards, it’s a shorter prayer. So I’m sure to pay close attention during my bedtime prayers and usually try to squeeze one in in the a.m. before I toss off the covers. 

I’ve always been a believer.

I also believe that God’s presence can manifest itself in what I sometimes see as odd coincidence. But through faith, I believe and eventually realize that it’s the hand of God showing me He’s still in charge.

If I’ve lost you, I apologize. I know we’re not regularly supposed to talk about Politics or Religion.

*Obama’s Cargo Plane landed in Kotzebue today. There, Politics have been covered. 

*My roommate is an Atheist. There, Religion is covered.

Now let me talk more about COINCIDENCE.

Last night an old friend posted a YouTube video on Facebook. It’s one of my favorite songs. It’s actually the last song that I remember from my time in the Lower 48. I recall belting it out at the top of my lungs while driving alone somewhere west of Pine City just before I left in July. Aaron Lewis and his band, STAIND, penned the lyrics and like most good songs, they can mean different things to different listeners. Some may hear a song about moving on in life or even death. My personal take on the tune is as a song of recognition and a road that’s been hard traveled. Regardless, it sounds good when you sing it loud! I’ve listened to it 17 times in the last 24 hours.

It’s means the same to me today as it did in July and as it did when I first heard it…but I’m afraid I might associate it with something else now. The song came back to me last night. I applied it to my life today. Stay with me.

Yesterday I got a care package from my family. They sent pillowcases and books, magazines and painted rocks. Among other things in there was a re-supply of some of my favorite DVDs: “Mystery, Alaska” – “The Green Mile” – “Shawshank Redemption” – “Full Metal Jacket” and even “Oh, Brother Where Art Thou”.

“Oh Brother Where Art Thou?” – one of my favorite movies on the fringe of religion. I can quote this movie to no end and I love every song on the sound track. Didn’t figure I’d watch it until the snow flies. Didn’t think that I’d think about this movie again for a few more months. I was wrong.

There was a suicide in the village today.

A woman in her 30’s hung herself at home, after school.

A mother to kids in our school.

She has relatives spread all over this small village of less than 400 residents.  There were 17 people living in the house. There will be kids at school tomorrow missing a family member, at least one child in my class.

We were pulled in to the principal’s office and given preliminary news in order to not be blindsided by the potential fallout tomorrow morning. What we didn’t realize was that two of her sons were in the gym for Cross Country practice and had yet to find out.

After the staff discussed our reactions, our official stance and response of support, I left the office and headed to the gym to check on Bill – my roommate – the cross-country coach. I wanted to be there for support if the boys on his team were still around and grieving.

I have to remember – I am a guest on this island and in this culture.

One of the young men who now knew that he lost his Mother was sitting on the floor of the gym, back against the wall and laptop open. He was mindlessly scrolling through his music downloads while his coach stood nearby. People were giving him respectful space. I stood by Bill.

As the 14 year old boy stared at his computer, he stopped when I began to sing along with Alison Krause and the most beautiful version of “Down in the River to Pray”. His external audio speaker made it audible over the other kids still playing in the gym. He never once looked at me, at least that I noticed. But he did leave it on that song. And I sang every word. Every word from a great song – from a great movie. And when it was done, he just started scrolling through the playlist again. Never stopping for more than 20 seconds on a song.

I don’t recognize this form of grieving. I can’t fathom his loss. I don’t understand why I held that DVD and thought about that song LAST NIGHT. But I gotta believe that I was supposed to be there. If not for me, then for him.

Half an hour later I took a walk to see the State Trooper plane and check on the attitude of the village. It’s subdued.

10-1….10-1…10-1…10-1... Ten to One

My son, Logan is 2,876 miles away and starting his first year of Youth Football. I have coached football for longer than he has been on God’s Green Earth. But ironically, now that he’s tearing up the practice facility at Bill West field, I’m nowhere in sight. At this time last year, I was commanding the Varsity Football Program in Small Town, Minnesota. Today I am the commander of this keyboard.

I miss my little jock sniff.

I’ve seen a couple of pictures. Caught a glimpse of a few short video clips. And have listened to the excitement in his voice over SKYPE each time he tells me about a drill that his team does that he knew I did with the big boys in the past.

There will be many more football games in Logan’s future. This I know. After this season, I don't plan on missing one. But I’ll be honest, it hurts a little to be missing now. It’s probably for the best though. I was never too excited about him starting playing football so young. Even as the Varsity Football Coach – I felt that 8 and 9 year olds could still be playing flag football and having just as much fun. 

But man do they LOVE IT!

Logan was on vacation in Bemidji with Michele and Emma last week when the rest of his teammates got their jerseys. Tonight he got his.

There were no special requests other than to put his name on the back. No Number requests…no possible way that anyone could have ever known that #32 was the number that I wore as a running back for the Warroad Warriors.

The Bear is a #32 Jr. – I’m blown away.

I’m in Alaska – living in a world that is completely foreign to me right now. The hand of GOD is on my child. It is not a coincidence and you will never convince me otherwise.

Sorry I gotta go – I’m crying my eyes out.