“We all have good days and bad. Ups and downs. Keep mindful that without darkness you won’t truly experience light.” – Braden
“Thanks for this reminder, son. We miss you so much and long to see you in the everlasting light of Heaven”. Dad
We are officially a “Dance Family”. Much of our time is spent preparing or performing. Not me. I just watch… and pay. Confession: I never knew how expensive this was until I had a “Dance Daughter”. Might be cheaper to put her under a private Olympics coach!
Most popular sports have a season. The NFL just closed out their most recent football season with the annual Superbowl, establishing the national championship team. Those players are now in their off-season, preparing for next Spring. Dance is constant. I’ve come to wonder if there even is an off-season.
Cait recently had a winter season “Dance Soiree”. Eighty (80) dances in one day. We love to watch Caitlin dance, but a 77:3 ratio of watching dances our daughter isn’t in is a lot (in one dad’s opinion). Still, I forged through, fighting the urge to play a game on my IPhone.
Sitting at the large white linen-covered round table, I turned our chairs around to face the stage. Having lost one child, one tends to appreciate what too many take for granted. In that mindset, it was more enjoyable to soak in the moment. We listened and watched their routines, enjoying what they were doing as they showed off their very best efforts to a supportive audience of parents.
Modern dance can be… let’s just say… different. During one set, the music sounded like an extended electrical short of hissing and buzzing without melody or lyrics. Still, there were people in the room who were moved to tears because it was their child.
There were sets with jazz and tap. Some with rap, and still others with a slow and elegant lyrical style. They all had every heart in the crowd moved in some way.
As kids, my brother and I were encouraged to take piano lessons. We were much more inclined to riding bikes, playing trucks in the field, or having dirt clod fights. To appease our parents, we took our lessons at the piano. We each alternated 30 minute sessions, keeping a timer. Mom sat pointing to each note and placing our finger positioning for scales, practiced over and over… and over and over. Once more with feeling, playing the scales. Again and again.
Mike and I hated piano lessons and I learned little more than proper posture. Also, we learned the notes on the scales and how they translated to the instrument. Like a puzzle, putting the notes together produced a song. Songs like “Camptown Ladies” and “She’ll be Comin’ Round the Mountain”. The classics.
Later in life, I found this basic training helped me learn to play a guitar which I actually enjoy. Guess it was worth the effort after all.
We also learned the white keys are “whole” notes. Playing only white keys produces a major chord. The black keys are called “half” notes and form a minor chord. Not to get too deep into musical theory, the black piano keys make a flat or sharp sound in a melody. Blended properly, a minor chord makes a sound that is thoughtful, somber, or even sad.
I’m not exactly sure how this works but a minor tone in a song immediately affects the listener’s emotion. Think of the theme for the movie, Forest Gump for example. You know, the feather floating around at the opening. That song is loaded with minor notes to produce emotion with the movie audience. If you recall the plot, Gump had a lot of triumphs as well as many tragedies.
Why would we want to include minor notes in a song? Who wants to feel sad when listening to music, watching a dance “soiree” or a feel-good movie? It’s because when the sad and joyful sounds blend together, they make a beautiful song. Hope is woven into the melody along with sadness. A well written song with both parts can be an amazing thing to experience.
In this life, we all have our ups and downs. Without them, life would be boring and without color. Life is a melody made of major and minor chords. Sometimes they seem like one huge dark minor note but more often they are blended together and balance with one another. As much as I hate to admit it, I wouldn’t want a life without some ups and downs… and the hope that lies in trusting Jesus to bring light in our darkness. Hope in Him sustains.
Lord, thank you for the hope you bring in finding joy even in the midst of despair. Thanks for blessings like a dancing daughter who brings light when things look so dark at times. You provide hope and peace beyond understanding. Be with those today who are in the middle of a very dark moment in their life and remind them You alone should be their song. It is in Jesus’ name we pray. Amen.
“911. What is your emergency?” – Prosper dispatcher
“”Family, we have a choice here. We can either react by going down because of this or we can respond by rising above it. We will choose the latter.
Do you know who that was? It was Jesus” – Braden’s Dad
“Mom and Dad. I’m proud y’all have responded by running towards Jesus rather than reacting and running away. Christ wants you to respond to His call, acknowledging Him as God’s only Son, worthy of your worship even in the firestorm of tragedy. I love you all so much”. – Braden
One year ago, I thought of the local fire department as those Gung-Ho guys who drove through town at all hours of day or night, running traffic lights while blaring extremely loud sirens and honking their horns (Not unlike the typical high school teen when you think about it).
I didn’t realize they lived almost half their working years away from their families on 24 hour shifts three times each week while training every day to become more effective at their jobs. I didn’t stop to think much at all about the impact their job must have on them emotionally and mentally. Especially, calls like ours to 911 that day. I think about it all the time now.
After October 30, I came to better know them as husbands and fathers just like me. Sharing a “trench” of tragedy together, I’m now honored to count several of these men as friends and extended family. We honor these noble men and women and those who have even sacrificed their lives in the line of duty.
This week I watched a Facebook-live feed being broadcast from downtown Dallas on an iPhone held by Prosper Fire Chief, Stuart Blasingame. He recorded almost an hour to honor lost brethren: fallen first responders in the doomed World Trade Center towers on lower Manhattan Island on the anniversary of our country being attacked by terrorists on 9-11-2001. Watching his crew and hundreds of north Texas first responders moved me deeply.
I found the timing appropriate to write our interwoven stories about our son and these heroes who serve to protect as they respond at all hours of the night and day, running red lights and honking horns.
In Prosper on every police and emergency vehicle you will find boldly emblazoned the phrase, “In God We Trust”. We share the very same faith and therefore, we trust in our community servants as well.
God bless and protect all first responders, police officers, and firefighters around the globe. Prayers today over the fallen heroes and their families. NEVER FORGOTTEN.
The following is how this past year’s journey began for our family. We’ve tried to recount as best possible but to be honest it’s hard to do justice in written form to all the “God Moments”. I pray perhaps even a small ray of hope will shine through darkness to readers in need right this very moment.
October 30, 2018
2:34PM. I know the time since it’s etched into my smartphone history. I was in a training class to re-learn a job I’d chosen to step into just 30 days prior.
Cathy knew not to call during the training sessions since I couldn’t leave the room. Texting was our only mode of communication. So why was she calling?
Knowing the call must be time-sensitive, I ran to exit the training room into the hallway with my heart rising into my throat. “Cathy, what is…” The voice on the other end of the line interrupted and was garbled. It didn’t even sound human. “Cathy what is it, what’s going on?” Honestly, I intuitively knew without her being able to verbalize it. Finally, one relatively clear phrase came out as a scream:
“COME HOME NOW!” The phone went dead…
My office campus is in Richardson, Texas. A commute to Prosper is thirty minutes at best and an hour at worst. With pre-rush hour traffic, the drive home at 100mph was less than twenty-five minutes. Yet it was the longest drive of my life. I couldn’t fathom what lie ahead. Cathy wasn’t answering the phone so I called our neighbor, Karla Tinebra who finally answered.
“Karla. Are you with Cathy?” “Yes. Mark, please just get home”.
“Is it what I think?”
Long silence… then, “Yes”.
The question I didn’t want to ask nor did I wish to have answered.
“Karla… is he… gone?”
Long silence… “Mark… Oh Mark.” Hesitatingly and tearfully, the subdued response was, “Yes. Mark, I’m so sorry”.
My mouth was instantly bone dry. My grip on the wheel could have snapped a tree in half. I just kept whispering a quiet scream aloud, “God please let there be a miracle. Make this a terrible nightmare”. But it wasn’t a dream/nightmare like I would have later. It was horrifically palpable and real. How could our 18 year old baby boy be, “Gone”?
I had to mentally prepare for the scene when I turned onto our street. I had to put on a brave and strong mask. To be strong for Cathy and Caitlin. I couldn’t cry. That would only confirm that this nightmare was real. I wasn’t ready for that just yet.
Like the scene at the Brownfield Regional Hospital when I was only ten, watching my brother’s 15 year old girlfriend dying in front of us, there are scenes the memory can’t purge. That’s true of my arrival at our home. Fire and rescue vehicles, and police squad cars with silent flashing lights were lined up for a half block and partially around the next.
I always park next to the garage, but vehicles blocked the drive so I parked in front, as a guest would, and walked up the steps to the front door. No one said a word, but I sensed each first responder was silently praying and thinking, “What would I feel like had I gotten this father’s call?” Yet they are the only people I recall being there. Several of these men stood in respectful silence. Yellow police tape strewn across the front yard and the front porch. This was my baby and they’ve put out police tape. Unthinkable.
Strikingly, as I recall this surreal experience, not one neighbor was there to gawk at our tragic spectacle. Not even one. You see, they were in their homes, discreet and careful to respect our privacy and to not speculate. Primarily to simply pray.
The neighbors present on that dark scene weren’t there to stare at a distance but rather to hold us close and to pray. To bring us into their hearts and weep with us. Each one to this day knows of whom I’m thinking.
Prosper fire Assistant Chief, Shaw Eft nodded a somber greeting at the door as he lifted the tape to allow access. At the top of the stairs with sunlight pouring through the back game room window stood the dark silhouette of a guard posted there to prevent anyone from passing into Braden’s room.
Shaw and his wife have two young daughters.
In the living room sat Cathy, crying in complete shock with three first responders surrounding her. One was the local fire chief, Stuart Blasingame. Stu is the size of a large bear, not only in stature, but I soon came to realize his heart far exceeds the size of his uniform. Chief Blasingame had been first to enter the home and open the door to our son’s bedroom to find him gone.
Stu and his wife have two teenage boys of their own.
The second responder was a chaplain John Herring, who had been on call that day. He was kneeling beside Cathy, holding her hand and consoling both her and the large-hearted fire chief who was red-faced with tears pouring from his own eyes.
John and his wife, Roni have three kids from age 12 to 19. Two girls around Caitlin’s age and one boy, Caiden (18). Braden’s age.
The third presence in that grieving group was the Holy Spirit in human form, manifest through this crew of first responders.
After we prayed together, we were escorted to our next door neighbor’s home. Karla and Joe Tinebra have been our dear friends since we moved from Katy about five years ago. The chaplain confirmed what we knew. We had to get Caitlin off the bus before she arrived at a scene that would certainly generate a lifetime of nightmares.
Chaplain Herring counseled me very specifically on how to proceed. We needed a trusted mom to collect Caitlin before she got on the school bus. With social media probably informing her of an incident on Camden Way, we needed to rush her to a peaceful place where she’d never go again. And the hard part. Tell her straight out. John and I even role played and practiced the message.
We had less than ten minutes to prepare to share this unthinkable news with an innocent eleven year old child: that her only sibling had died while she was at school.
Taking several cars, we quickly headed to rendezvous with mom and friend, Heather Dlabik, who met us at a small community pocket park across from the Mayhard Egg Farm on First Street.
Delivering the news to Caitlin is another memory a father can never forget, yet having prepared with John I soon realized his counsel was wise. Chaplain John then asked if we had a church to hold the memorial service.
Being members at a very large church, Prestonwood Baptist, it would typically make sense to go there. However, we didn’t expect to fill a venue quite that large. We preferred something smaller, though John didn’t know that.
“I don’t know if you have a church home, but I go to a church right around the corner and you’d be welcome there”.
We struggled with the decision of where to hold the memorial service but didn’t want a very large, partially empty space, so elected to go with John’s offer. He went to church there and was such an amazing guide in this emergency, his church seemed a perfect choice. Little did we know he not only went to First Baptist Prosper, but was the senior pastor at that time.
We worked together to plan a memorial for our Braden. The day of the service we had friends and family from all parts of the country. These second responders (the FBC Prosper church family) served us as they would their own family. We were treated to a feast a king would consider worthy. To this day I still see the faces of those in the serving line. They looked at us with love and empathy like I’d never experienced from strangers.
The memorial service was filled to overflow with many standing along the walls. Afterwards, neighbors catered a reception in our home. Never had our home been filled with such love and support from community members, friends, and family. To this day, we don’t know for sure all who contributed but we are so thankful!
After a full day, with the suicide “Walk Out of Darkness” that morning, the memorial for Braden and the evening reception, we were beyond exhausted in every way. Then about 9:15 a man called to ask if he might come over and just talk. Chaplain John Herring was still there after all this. When he arrived, I had assumed he must need payment or some kind of forms signed. After all that he and his church had done for complete strangers, non-members, they would need reimbursement.
Yet as our last guest departed, John remained with us. I asked if he needed anything. His response was, “No. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t need anything else for now”. With that, he and I talked and shared some stories. Mostly, he was helping me gear down and it worked. As Cathy hugged our last guest and said good night, John remained. He was last to leave our home late that evening.
We hugged and I thanked him. As I locked the door behind him and he drove away, I returned to the living room couch where Cathy and Caitlin were waiting. Suddenly, it became clear. “Girls. Do you know who just left here? This man came into a totally dark and uncomfortable place. He counseled us and guided us. He invited us into his church, loving us. And he was the last to leave. Do you know who that was? It was Jesus”. And then we just cried.
I’m certainly no expert but when asked, “What do we need to learn from your experience?” Life is about relationship with Christ and with others. These connections make life worth living and without them people ultimately come up dry with no meaning. In hopelessness, more and more are opting to leave this life early.
The pieces of this story may seem fragmented as my writing skills are lacking. However, to this writer the message is clear as crystal. What Braden needed, what we all need, is meaningful and lasting relationship. A sense that we have value.
Life without a true and lasting relationship with Christ has no value. We find temporary satisfaction at best, but it fades. People are conditional. Christ is eternal. Life without Him is not life but rather existence.
Readers: How to have an impact
If you’ve followed this blog you know through our experiences over the past year we’ve tried to piece together some practical helps which others can put to use in their own lives and in parenting our children.
This may seem a little corny, but acronyms are easy to remember if they tie with a concept. The following acronym can work if it’s tried and modeled by moms and dads. After all, aren’t we all first responders? Shouldn’t we continually train to be better at what we do?
U.C.I.S.: “You’ll See, I’ll Stay”
Uncomfortable places. Step INTO them rather than avoiding;
Connect with the hurting. You may be next;
Invite the hurting into our lives, homes, and churches; and
Stay, even when it isn’t easy.
This story of first response aligns with our Lord, Jesus Christ and the way He lived each day. He was born in a dirty stall and throughout his life, walked boldly into the darkest places on earth to find relationship with many who were “uncomfortable” (think leprosy colonies, a demon possessed mad man, the temple/ den of thieves). Christ ministered, counseled, taught, and healed people in those dark places. He invited those lost into relationship with Him. Most importantly, He STAYED. And He remains with us eternally.
Prayer: Lord, I ask that you open my mind to the fact I’m a reactor. Knowing that truth, I pray I will break old habits and learn new healthy ones. Train me to be a responder. I love how you speak truths into my life. In my darkness you shine your light. You are THE one true and awesome God.
I pray over every reader and their families right now, whether they are on a mountain top or in a dark lonely valley. We pray they will be encouraged in finding relationship with their unconditional and perfect loving Father. Grant us peace beyond understanding. It is in Jesus’ name we pray. Amen.
5 Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; 6 in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight.