“Dad, the ways of this world can be difficult and dark but rest in knowing that God’s ways are right and indescribably good. He loves and wants the very best for His children. Keep your heart open and you’ll see!”– Braden

“This will be my song. That You are always good. I’ll sing it all day long and when the day is through I am left with You are always good.” – Braden’s dad

While waiting for my girls to wake today I was also watching the online Sunday service from Hope Fellowship led by pastor John Mckinzie as he spoke a prayer over the families of 9-1-1 and over our world. It moved me and its message struck a painfully familiar chord. God is always good about doing such when we open our hearts and listen. It led us to share the following story which will hopefully speak to someone needing hope today. That’s always our prayer.

It was a Friday night in late May 2018. I remember because May 9th had been our son, Braden’s birthday. I had prayed for weeks that our now 18 year-old stubborn son would accept his dad’s invitation to attend a weekend men’s conference at our church, Hope Fellowship in Frisco, Texas. He had not attended with us for about a year and the odds were very low that he’d accept this time. It wasn’t that Braden didn’t believe in God. It wasn’t that he lacked a relationship with God. In fact, he had accepted Jesus as his Savior just a few years earlier and had made it public in a small baptismal pool at Kingland Baptist in Katy, Texas. He did so after years of thought and reflection about what it really meant to take the step of accepting Christ as his savior.

Braden had an unusually deep sense of relationship with others and with God (especially for a male teenager). However, sometimes the closest and most valued relationships can involve hard feelings while still both parties maintain the deepest devotion. That was certainly the case with the very loyal heart of our son. Ironically, the same God he deeply loved and fully trusted just didn’t seem to be coming through with His part of the bargain. Our Sunday morning routine had slowly devolved from regular attendance to his showing up grudgingly but often leaving when youth group began. He’d sometimes sneak out and go home while his mom and I were still in the worship service at the church we were attending at that time. He just couldn’t understand why he wasn’t feeling a connection especially in “God’s House” of all places, and rather than faking it, he eventually dropped out completely.

A few weeks before the conference, I’d promised not to press him about going with me but just continued to pray for a miracle. Just days before, Braden finally agreed to go along but only if we could leave immediately without a hassle if he desired. That was against my control nature but it was important he return to church so I agreed.

During such events, church auditoriums are packed with Christian men, most of whom are highly motivated to be there. After all, these conferences usually begin on a Friday after work and resume on Saturday. Most of these guys come hungry for fellowship, learning, and worship (mostly singing). In our case, we were a less than motivated father who didn’t really get into such occassions but needed to be the good dad, and a very reluctant/ angry son. We were not quite the match made in Heaven as they say.

After the first speaker, the program agenda had some worship songs before an intermission and I knew it would feel unnatural. As a kid I was not a singer in church. Although I might mimmick the words they were rarely sung out loud. Heck, if someone raised their hands, we’d have thought they were a little crazy. It really wasn’t “manly” to express emotion and the words were usually written centuries earlier with lots of “thee’s, thou’s, and hallelujahs”. The first one that evening was more current though. It wasn’t a hymn at all. The song was titled, “Always Good” and was led by a praise band with guitars and drums. Miraculously, I was half-heartedly singing and tried not to look at him directly so as to keep things from feeling too awkward.

Halfway through the “Always Good” song, I felt a tap on my shoulder. “Dad it’s time to go. I want to leave”. What?? I was at a complete loss. Why, in the very middle of a song talking about how good God is would my son suddenly feel uneasy and wish to leave? Still, I’d promised so we headed home only shortly into the first evening session. As an extension of my part of the agreement, I chose not to explore the reason behind his decision although I had my guesses. After all, this was his personal choice to make, not mine. Five short months later, Braden made another much more life-changing and permanent choice which we certainly would not have wanted him to make.

Fast forward to May 2019. Same church but this time it was a Sunday morning. Again, our son was not with us but sadly this time it was because he had gone, leaving us behind to try and deal with his final choice. Still, Cathy and I were putting in the effort to stay in church. In fact we sat just a few seats from where the father/ son “event” had been only a few months prior. As in most churches, a set of songs began the worship service before the pastor’s message. Trying to sing now was not only difficult for the previously mentioned reason, but now the words physically hurt to express aloud. They felt like fist blows to our chests, causing tears of pain and sadness rather than joy.

Then, without me immediately realizing, the same song I’d heard only months earlier which had moved Braden to turn and leave the church began to play: “Always Good“. This time instead of Braden leaving, Cathy did! The words hurt so much that before I could ask what was happening, she was gone. Moments later, a text from a leader on campus, Mike Martin (now campus pastor at Prosper Hope Fellowship) popped onto my cell phone requesting that I join him in the counseling offices with my wife. He’d seen her in the hallway and invited her in to talk. Upon meeting Mike, we quickly came to hear his own testimony about the loss of his entire family in a horrific car accident years earlier. I still recall wondering in amazement how this guy could still be breathing yet he was now sharing this tragic story and even holding a leadership position of a church? His story was probably the most tragic I’d ever heard and the details were beyond what I can fully develop here. Yet by his choice, this very story had become a miracle and a reflection to others of God’s goodness.

Over time, the mystery of these three separate events began to form into a clearer picture which we believe God wanted to reveal to our family. In the middle of a worship song about the goodness of God, Braden had refused to worship because of his difficulty understanding how God’s goodness could allow such pain and yet not seem to help him on his own timeline. In that very same place, his mom later had a similar response with her heart broken and conflicted about the worship in stark contrast with her personal experience and emotions. Then out of the sky (actually an empty hallway at Hope Fellowship), God would bring us a real-life eyewitness who, even coming from the absolute darkest of place this world has to offer could quickly convince us we are to acknowledge and worship God as ultimately good, always and in all ways.

The song’s words I’d heard before with my ears and even had mimmicked earlier with my mouth now began to sink into to my heart. By our own unwanted/ unexpected circumstances and after coming to learn of this pastor’s own story (and other families to later follow) we were learning that none of us are alone in facing unexpected and unspeakable pain and loss. Unfortunately, such things are too often a way of life in the fallen world in which we currently reside. The good news is, they are not the way of life in our permanant Home which is just around the corner. Thank God for such needed Good News because now I WANT to make a sound when I sing!

This morning I read several posts about the 9/11 tragedy. That terrible day is now 22 years in the past, yet we all recall exactly where we were when it happened. Families still have empty chairs at their dinnner tables and empty places on the opposite side of the bed. Literally thousands of people will never fully recover from the losses of those they held dear and precious. Friends and loved ones taken in a single breath. It sickens me to look at photos of the explosions and imploded buildings, still realizing we can’t deny it happened. Yet, I far prefer to see photos of the blinding white lights beaming heavenward from the ashes left behind. I guess it’s because I know now where hope lies and prefer to look there.

The words in the song I’ve mentioned here talk about how good God always is and I absolutely believe it. However, the hard reality is the world that God made and deemed to be “Good” was terminally damaged by our own choices. In many instances, His “good creation” became downright hellish in its current condition.

Our “planned” little journeys take each one of us on a uniquely designed path, each which vary and at times will become narrow or wide, bright or dark, steep or easy. Some journeys are long and others are sadly cut too short. Many times, our paths lead us off course by choices we make alone. Still others are caused by factors we don’t control at all. Rarely if ever does our ultimate path resemble the one we had in mind at the beginning.

What I can say with full confidence and hope is the words of this and other worship songs are eternally true: In ALL HIS WAYS God is good and He forever remains ready to lead us if we choose to follow Him. Our family prays every day for those who are in the middle of crisis and those who have lost cherished loved ones along their own path. We also pray that we will each choose THE Way which has been freely offered.

Prayer: Heavenly Father, we pray for those who have experienced unbearable tragedy and we trust that you are ready, willing, and able to give the gift of lasting comfort, unimaginable joy, and incomprehenable peace by our simply accepting it. Thank you for Jesus and for those in the world who reflect Him through choosing to serve as examples. Thank You for the promise of eternity with You and with those who have gone before us to a Home where all things will truly be “always” good. In Jesus name, Amen.

I will sing to the Lord as long as I live. I will praise my God to my last breath. Psalms 104; 33

“Dad, remind others that God knows and provides exactly what they need even though they may not realize or accept it. Most of all, remind people to share with others what He provides”. — Braden

“This was exactly what I needed today!” — High School Teen

“I’m new at this, but at least I’m teachable”. Braden’s Dad

I’ve taken a long writing break, not by decision nor lack of desire. Writing has greatly helped me process and heal. Hopefully another hurting soul can find some hope if they are navigating a similar path. God has thrown so many things our way this past few months it reminds me of the saying about water being served from a fire hose. Forming adequate words seems futile. Still, I believe it’s important to at least try to share at least a few drops.

Since October 2018, life has been much like a rollercoaster for our family. The obvious lows are the daily realization that our son, Braden is gone and won’t ever spend another holiday or help make new family memories. Those ongoing lows are becoming somewhat less traumatic since we’ve now experienced most of them at least once. Though we will never become comfortable with the breathtaking drops and twists of this rollercoaster, we’ve now had enough of them to know we will survive. Still, you never fully get used to this one.

As with every rollercoaster, the deepest lows are matched by higher highs. In this analogy, those “highs” have been the blessings God reveals to us each time we think our cart just may derail. God, thank you for assurance that this brief painful ride ends safely in Your arms.

One of the countless “highs” which God has blessed our family with continues to be through the hearts of others. I call it our “Daily Bread” and it’s certainly not the unhealthy kind, but rather the life sustaining variety. If there was some way to physically gather all the words of encouragement, prayers, offers of help and hope , our “Daily Bread” would feed us far more than we could ever consume.

This “bread” comes in various forms: A friend sends daily Bible devotionals each morning. He began serving this daily bread a few weeks after Braden’s memorial service and continues to this day. I know there’s a prayer behind each one. It comes in the form of cards sent on the anniversary of our loss with a handwritten note simply confirming: “We are Staying”. This daily bread has been served by men and women in small groups, mentors and by church ministers who continually remind us we are loved and prayed over. As I type even now my phone is buzzing with “daily bread” of hope and encouragement from several faithful brothers (Is that a blessing or what!)

This past weekend my daily bread came in the form of an invitation to join Grace Bridge Food Bank’s Giving Day. Grace Bridge is a north Texas faith-based community organization formed ten years ago and led by Carter Morris. They feed others who hunger not only for physical needs, but for hope and faith. Carter leads one of my men’s Bible studies at Prosper’s Fuse Workspace location where I currently work (Fuse is another unexpected blessing). Observing Carter and hearing his testimony, I wanted to learn more about what this organization does. I not only got a better understanding, but received more “bread” than I could carry!

Two brief stories stood out among too many to share here. The first occurred when I was helping grill the food. I heard some volunteers saying there were cars jammed in a long line along Preston Road feeding into the church parking lot. Each vehicle was occupied by a single person or more often, a family. “Encouragers” were located under a covered drive-through area and as each vehicle approached, these individuals connected with the drivers, explained the organization’s purpose, and extended a message of encouragement along with a prayer.

Carter asked if I wanted to watch for a while to see how it worked. I shadowed a gentleman named David who told me he’d done this for years and it was his greatest blessing to pray over the individuals and families in these cars. I’d never done anything like this, other than sticking pamphlets on windshields of parked cars or distributing door hangers at empty houses as a teen on mission trips. It always seemed a bit over the top to actually talk with people and I told David this.

After watching a dozen or so times, David was called away to another station so he asked if I would mind just speaking with one of the last drivers waiting in line. I suspected he’d planned this and reminded him that I hadn’t come to participate. He nodded, handed me his clipboard, grinned, and just walked away.

Slowly walking toward the blue minivan, I noticed the young mom had begun rolling down her window cautiously as if I might be packing a bomb. I apologized for my awkwardness, explaining this was my first time but that I just wanted to pray for her and her family. The mom had three kids under the age of eight all smashed together sitting perfectly still in the back seat. An older sibling was up front. The mom looked uneasy but I could tell her family was anxiously waiting for a hotdog or something to eat. When asked specifically if there was anything I could pray, she shyly replied, “Uh. I guess… finances?”. When asked if there was anything else at all, suddenly the flood gates opened. I prayed as best I knew how and opened my eyes. The mom was crying. Immediately it was clear her hunger was in her heart, not her stomach. Somehow, although my prayer was pretty darn weak, she and her family had been fed just a small piece of “bread”.

The next story was a high school teenager who appeared to be 16 or 17. I’d noticed him earlier when Carter first introduced me to David. I’d overheard this young man nearby mentioning that he just wanted to pray with someone. I had been listening to both conversations at once but tuning into this young man’s comment made a deep impression on me for some reason.

After the last few cars had finally passed through the line that day Grace Bridge had served over 450 hungry people. I went to shake the young man’s hand and to introduce myself. I told him I’d overheard his comment and then shared briefly that we’d lost our son three years earlier at just about his age. For some reason, I felt led to share a copy of our Braden’s Voice book since it might be of use in some way. I assured him that I had no idea why I felt compelled to share this with him. His reply is something I’ll never forget.

“Sir, I don’t know who sent you, but this was exactly what I needed today. Did someone tell you to do this?” I replied that I had no idea what he was talking about. He said, “I was in the very same place as your son not long ago. I had reached the end of my rope and didn’t want to live any longer. Someone offered me help and I’m glad I took it. By your speaking with me, I now understand why I was supposed to come here today”. We were now both speechless.

Although I was in shock, I was able to quickly give this kid a hug and tell him that something in his spirit had reminded me of our boy. I asked if maybe he could do me the favor of reading Braden’s story but before I could finish, he interrupted. “I have a friend who also needs this book. Can I share it with him?” I can’t help but believe the Holy Spirit was there in the parking lot that day with me and this young man. Standing right beside me I’d like to think Braden was there too. Grinning ear to ear.

As I left the church that afternoon, I spoke to God. I repeated aloud what this young stranger had asked me because I still couldn’t believe my own ears. “Did someone tell you to do this?” My first thought had been that he suspected his parents but they had not. I’d never met this family. My very next thought was to realize the reason I’d been offered my “Daily Bread” by Carter’s invitation. It had been so I might be fed and that I might feed a couple of people who were also hungry.

Reader: I have come to more clearly understand that every one of us has a personal story and an emptiness. Although each of us is completely unique we share this truth in common: We ALL hunger for true purpose and for lasting relationship. Without both, we’re only taking up space and missing the joy our Creator specifically designed for us to experience. I can honestly say I’ve never felt such a joy until too recently to admit. I guess I’m a bit slow. That’s ok though. It’s not a race, this faith ride. It has to come only when we are ready to get on the rollercoaster!

Prayer: Heavenly Father, please provide to us each day our Daily Bread and give us your eyes so we may see others the way you see your children. May we learn to share with those who hunger in every sense of the word. After all, we may well be that child’s only chance to be fed. We thank you beyond words, which I often find hard to convey. In the Life-giving name of Your son, Jesus. Amen.

If you or your family have physical or spiritual needs or if you feel led to volunteer to provide the kind of “bread” described, the following links are at least a few of thousands of ways you can serve or donate.

https://www.gracebridge.us; https://www.mastercares.org; https://hopefellowship.net/childsponsor; https://bradensvoice.org

“Dad, the two most effective weapons Satan has are Fear and Worry. He knows people are addicted to both and as long as they are distracted, he wins. Don’t let him win. God has His children securely in His Hand”. Love you, Braden

“Thanks for checking me on this. I look forward to experiencing Heaven. No worry. Fear long forgotten”. Braden’s Dad

Ever wake at a pre-dawn hour when the rest of the world is dead asleep? Your mind rolling over and over about something all-important? It’s always around 3AM for some reason for me and it feels like swimming in quicksand. Trying to solve or “fix” something through worrying. Often, it’s some minor thing no one else would give a single thought. I’ve come to learn by talking with others that many people do this. I guess there’s some comfort in knowing we are in good company as members of the 3AM Worry Club.

My twin brother and I got our first guns around age ten. In west Texas, there wasn’t a lot of talk about “Shooting your eye out”. Boys fully expected to get their first BB gun before age 11 and within the next year or so to promote to a .22 rifle, a 20-gauge shotgun, advancing to a 12-gauge, and ultimately to a deer rifle. The progression was almost certain, Every boy got their guns.

Upon receipt of our first gun, the immediate question was, “What can we kill?” Killing in this sense wasn’t necessarily a literal term. It could just be a Coke bottle, a telephone wire insulator, or another inanimate target. Still, after killing so many boring inanimate objects, the next target became something that breathed.

With our brand new Daisy BB guns in hand on a freezing west Texas Christmas morning, we were off searching to shoot. Anything would do. I recall a lone frozen bare pecan tree about a hundred yards south of our house. Inside our home it was warm and colorfully decorated. Outside, the world was gray and freezing, but the warmth of anticipation insulated us from the frigid air. I put the butt of the rifle on the ground while pulling the air pump with everything I had and looked towards the barren frozen tree. A single scrawny little bird sat alone high in its branches. The thing was so small, it was hard to tell if it was a bird or a dead pecan. I aimed carefully and tried to account for the north breeze. “I’ll miss, but what if I don’t? What then? Will it matter to me? Will its parents miss him? What about his brothers and sisters, or his kids?” (Keep in mind I was seven and hunter’s instinct kicked in later).

I closed my eyes and squeezed the trigger. It was just a plain every day little worthless sparrow. No one would ever miss it. The BB’s power weakened quickly in the wind and the lucky little thing flew away, possibly to return to its family of hungry babies or to be shot later by a more accurate marksman. It didn’t matter, after all it was just a sparrow.

First Baptist Church of Brownfield, Texas. I can’t describe a more traditional place of worship. We had one Sunday morning service, unlike many churches these days. Each service began with a carefully measured twenty minutes of hymns. We only sang the first, second, and fourth verses. That third verse somehow got mysteriously lost and trust me, we kids (and I suspect many adults) were silently thankful.

There were a number of traditional hymnal songs which even today bring back instant visual images. “I Surrender All”, “Amazing Grace”, “Oh, How I Love Jesus” and many others. At a Brownfield Church of Christ funeral ceremony for my great aunt, the choir of 90+ year old singers nasally whined the a cappella version of “In the Garden”. To this day, I can’t smell a rose or go to a funeral home without being hit with song ringing in my ears. That would be a sweet sound only a loving Father could appreciate! Still, there were other church songs I recall in a more hopeful way. One that stands out is titled “His Eye Is On the Sparrow”. These lyrics still return when I’m struggling with anxious thoughts, and even sometimes nightmares.

Anxiety is a problem growing with lighting speed in this fast paced, over-scheduled, social media driven world, affecting millions. Recently, a study indicated today’s teens face a level of high anxiety that during the first half of the Twentieth century would have three out of five of them placed under a doctor’s care . Psychology Today recognizes an emerging epidemic of anxiety in today’s children and teens and adults. In all of the “noise” of the world, in the carefully crafted images of social media, in unrealistic expectations, too often we see ourselves as a “sparrow”, without significant value. Not enough, uncertain about our purpose. Feeling isolated, unseen or un-noticed.

Today is Easter Saturday. If you haven’t read Cathy Speed’s post on this day two years ago, I encourage you to do so. It still comforts and amazes me how her message stands the test of time. Last evening marked the day Christ was crucified and before that (perhaps 3AM?) Jesus actually sweat blood while praying in the Garden of Gethsemane. That event and that image of God’s only Son praying for peace and assurance are confirming today. Imploring God to pass the cup from Him for the final task to finish His work here can’t be compared to the worries or fears any of us have today. My belief is the Bible registered that story just as Christ was leaving to return home so you and I can be assured we are not alone, that life is temporary, and we have purpose right here and right now.

Reader: In Matthew 10:29-31, God’s Word tells us that He even watches over the sparrows in this world and how much more He cares for His children. We are invited to “be anxious for nothing”, but instead to bring our worries and our fears to Him, and to find rest.  My prayer is for whoever may be reading this today and feels worthless or lost, that He will be your source of lasting peace and purpose. Amen.

His Eye is On the Sparrow

“Why should I feel discouraged
Why should the shadows come
Why should my heart feel lonely
And long for heaven, home

When Jesus is my portion
A constant friend is He
His eye is on the sparrow
And I know He watches me

I sing because I’m happy
I sing because I’m free
His eye is on the sparrow
And I know He watches me”

“And the very hairs on your head are all numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are more valuable to God than a whole flock of sparrows.”
‭‭Luke‬ ‭12‬:‭7‬ ‭NLT‬‬

“People take relationships as a given part of life when they should count them as priceless blessings. Love you Dad. Hang in there.” – Braden

“Son, you were a rare treasure to us. We thought you were ours but all along God knew you belonged solely to Him. Missing you.“ – Mom, Dad, & Caitlin

The mind is an amazing creation and arguably one of God’s most miraculous. How could the least significant memories sometimes become locked there to reside for years or even a lifetime, only to be recalled at some critical moment. Maybe it’s God’s subtle way of lending us guidance or clarity in an otherwise completely lost and confusing world.

Especially in the past couple of years the most insignificant memories have helped to sustain me. These memories can arrive as a gentle drip and at other times as huge waves.

As kids, “Going to Grandmother’s House” was a big thing to a couple of farm boys living outside a small west Texas town. The phrase meant freedom to pursue adventures beyond those found on a section of dirt and cotton. Don’t get me wrong. Our place out west of town was home. There were endless possibilities to find there, but Going to Grandmother‘s was just different.

It was a change of scene and a chance to hang out with our buddies. Her house had more TV channels, paved streets for bike riding, and a miraculous thing called central air. Mornings meant rising out of bed with our feet meeting a warm carpet without freezing to the floor.

As a child in small town America, riding bikes was complete freedom with no limits. In those days we could set out early morning and not return until late evening.

I could write a book about the adventures we had together with our friends. In today’s tech world those stories would likely bore most readers. Still. There isn’t a video game on the planet that could even come close.

Having grown up during the Great Depression, Grandmother Dickson was a woman of habit and routine. Poverty doesn’t allow much room for risk. They too often end with very serious consequences. We’re largely affected later in life by the adults from our childhood. Through the years, I’ve grown to better understand that and why I took on some similar characteristics. Familiar is safe and her home was that to me.

She had “her” chair. Most grandparents do. A Lazy-Boy rocking recliner with hand-knitted warming blanket draped over its back. To the left of her chair on a wooden lamp table she kept notes and collected memories. Pictures of grandkids, and her Bible, decayed and worn from years of daily use.

Next to her Bible stood a tiny silver plated easel with an old adage in cursive writing.

“Make new friends but keep the old. The new are silver the other, Gold.”

That distant memory was recorded in my memory bank now too long ago to admit, but to me it was only yesterday. I still remember thinking, “Who are my friends and which would I consider Gold?” They’re similar in the fact that both are valuable yet the difference is, only a very few of them are most rare.

The Twenty-first century opened with a wake up call on 9/11/01. Braden was just 14 months old and we were shocked into the reality that our “secure” world was an illusion and not secure at all. In fact, it continues moving deeper towards chaos no matter how we wish it was “going to get better next year”. The year 2020 has been a double dose of reality and even life- changing for many. Some more than others.

In 2020, the world had the first pandemic of our lifetimes. Many laughed off the benefits of protective masks. The world’s economy was thrown off balance and many lost their livelihoods. Others lost their families. Still others lost their very lives not only from physical illness but perhaps worse, mental illness. Depression, isolation, and addiction.

A majority of individuals who contracted the novel virus called “Covid 19” returned to full health with little more than a cough or mild fever. Some of us even wear a badge of pride that it visited our home with no more than a mild fever and that we’re probably immune. Many others with weakened immune systems due to age or health conditions didn’t have it so easy.

This past year, many have been touched closely by the loss of love ones, not just from The Virus but from cancer, heart failure, mental illness, etc. Many of those reading now have personally experienced such indescribable loss. In the final months of 2020, our parents lost two of their friends.

The “Gold” kind. The rarest life long friends. Senselessly and Suddenly. Gone.

Mom wrote a four page letter to all of her children after Anita Hancock passed. It was her attempt to capture how much her friend had meant throughout their long lives together. She recalled memories of them raising their families both as farmer’s wives. Anita and her husband, Donald had two boys and one girl. Mom and dad had three boys and one girl. This common ground and their shared faith in God bonded them tightly through shared trials and successes.

Mom and Anita soaked up every second they shared together, never growing weary of each other’s company. They loved their reunions at our Texas Hill Country home and in many foreign places like the Holy Land where they floated on the Dead Sea, visited the Jordan River, and even rode camels. They shared memories of laughter and tears in a tightly knitted friendship worth more than all the gold contained in Fort Knox.

One of Dad’s “Gold Friends” was E.V. Murphy. He was a guy you really would have to meet to appreciate. He and his wife, Jeanne were like a brother and sister to our parents. In fact, “Murphy” accompanied mom and dad to Lovington, New Mexico as teenagers to witness their elopement and beginning of our family.

I remember E.V. as a work horse, providing for his family. He just never stopped. Always smiling, laughing, and joking.

What made their friendship unique, from my observation was no matter if they had a rare difference of opinion on something, they remained unconditionally loyal. Most times, dad would go visit “Murph” at home or on his job without so much as a call. He always welcomed dad in and they’d talk sometimes for hours. Pretty rare.

I’m not sure why it was important to write about this. Maybe it’s because almost everything I do and observe now is often framed in two questions:

1) How might have Braden and others today dealing with depression be helped by our own experience; and

2) How might I learn to live my own life differently to help avoid the loss of others.

I know Braden had at least two “Gold Friends” in his life outside his family. Sadly, although they remained close at heart, both lived hundreds of miles away and weren’t physically near at the time he was in his worst crisis.

Like gold, these kinds of friends don’t have to be physically present to hold their value. Just by knowing they were in our lives and how that made all the difference is most important. No matter if living 800 miles away or on the next street, no matter if friends here on Earth for 90 years or 18, they’ll always be part of us. That’s enough, for now.

I think a lot more these days about those who have lost loved ones, no matter the cause. Even more, I pray for those of us left behind after they leave us here, even though temporarily. We will never let go of them realizing they remain eternally treasured. We are assured of an awesome and eternal reunion.

Prayer: “Thank you, Lord for Gold Friends, even if just one. May I be that kind of friend, that kind of spouse, brother and son. Where there is one of your children today in search of such a Gold Friend, please help them be found. Most importantly, may they accept Your son’s invitation to be that eternal Gold Friend.”

“Dad, people are making decisions based on false information. They are being told lies by dark, invisible, yet very real forces “. – Braden Speed

“Two years now, son. Has your death meant anything to the world you left behind? God, please say it has.” -Braden’s Dad

October 30, 2020. God has proven loyal in coming nearest when we hurt the worst. The last two years have seemed like twenty. Time’s supposed to heal all wounds and to some extent that holds true. Still, maybe they should rethink that adage and make it time heals most wounds but others you just have to live with (doesn’t quite have the same ring though).

The Library of Congress lacks sufficient space to house the stories that will be written about this year in world history. Of course, there have been far worse years statistically. Some of biblical proportion. Still, every person living on a civilized slice of Earth has faced completely new realities in 2020. Circumstances and choices none of us have ever dreamt of and many which would, under normal circumstances be a nightmare shared in fading detail upon waking. “You won’t believe the nightmare I had last night”. But it’s real.

Decisions aren’t new, but this year we’ve each been presented unique ones, and many with high risk price tags attached about our future. Employment. Education. Safety and security for our families. Who will govern our country. Do we stay the course with that small business/ career or take an uncharted course never before considered. Does a young couple start the family they’ve dreamed about so long or wait until things “get better”. Does a young teenage girl choose to keep an unplanned pregnancy.

In thousands and perhaps millions of real life situations, right now such decisions are being formed. Studies estimate on average, we make between 30,000-35,000 choices per day. The small and large decisions: When or will I roll out of bed? Should I hit snooze again? Do I wear this or that? Breakfast or coffee on the way? How do I react to the guy who just shot past and cut me off? Where do I place my faith? Who are my friends and which of them are to be trusted as true friends? What is my future? Should I go to college or enter the work world? How will we navigate and how will I best serve as a spouse and parent in all this?

Simply said, life is an unending and innumerable series of choices.

Not to be morbid, but let’s get honest. Tragically, in this very moment many today are grappling with the most timely and important personal decision of all: Whether to stay for another day or to check out early. To drive this even closer to “real”, kids are thinking seriously about ending their lives at the expense of not only their hopeful future but that of those left behind.

Within that small secret and dark population, their decision isn’t only if, but when and even how to leave. Today or tomorrow, next week, or perhaps later this summer when it will be somehow less painful or obvious to school peers. Those were the choices Braden faced two years ago on the morning of October 30, 2018.

One literal hell of a choice.

What he chose to do in that moment of mental and emotional confusion will impact our family for the rest of our days. It’s also helped to focus on the most important things which we too often allow to get fuzzed by the noise of a very distracting world. Today, here’s the big question that begs an answer and it’s framed in first person intentionally:

Do I choose to proactively live my brief few years (life) or do I just get through the next day?

As long as I knew Braden in the relatively brief time we breathed the same air, I never fully grasped his view of this world. I really wish I could, because in large part he had it right. Braden often asked the uncomfortable questions: Why are we here and why can’t we just go to Heaven once we’re saved? I had ready “Dad” answers to most every question until those were posed over a dinner table when he was just a little boy.

It’s at least become a little clearer since that day. Maybe I’ll have a better answer next time someone asks.

1. Why are we here? Life is an infinite series of choices and struggles forcing us all to wonder why we’re here. We’d be idiots if we didn’t. The amazing thing is we were created with the innate and unique ability to choose how we think, feel, or respond to any of life’s challenges. If we mentally choose to be victims of circumstance, we will be. Alternatively, if we choose instead to be victors in the midst of even the worst life deals us, we are that as well. This way of living also plays out on a broader scale by positively impacting others around us. Trust me. We’ve had so many impact our family in life changing ways! Each one by a conscious choice made by someone to care, pray, and support.

2. Why wouldn’t we just go to Heaven when we are saved? See answer 1.

Life is exclusively about decisions we each make while we’re here. Our heavenly Father certainly desires his children to make wise choices yet I’ve made thousands of poor ones that fall miles from God’s plan. However, one decision I made which won’t be a regret is the choice to surrender to my Creator and He has infinite grace for mistakes made yesterday, today, and tomorrow.

If one good thing comes from this, we can testify with confidence that Christ has walked every second of every day with us through the worst this world has to offer. We have decided to share our testimony openly about this experience because failing to do so gives Satan a victory and we’ve decided not to allow that.

Parents: Our kids are hungry for real answers in a world that doesn’t make sense to them. Although it doesn’t sometimes make sense to us either, we are compelled as parents to learn, grow, and lead them in the way they should go. They are desperately needing guidance.

Teens: Look around you and learn from the mistakes of others. Don’t allow yourself to fall into traps Satan has set. They are invisible yet deadly. Watch for danger signs because they’re everywhere. Focus on making wise decisions. What some call, “The next right step”. Life will be a never ending series of choices and each one matters. YOU MATTER even when you think you don’t. If you’ve not done so, make your next decision one for your eternity and for true abundant life today.

Isaiah 55:8-9

“For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
neither are your ways my ways,”
declares the Lord.
“As the heavens are higher than the earth,
so are my ways higher than your ways
and my thoughts than your thoughts”

Ephesians 6:13

“For we are not fighting against flesh-and-blood enemies, but against evil rulers and authorities of the unseen world, against mighty powers in this dark world, and against evil spirits in the heavenly places”.