On a Lighter Note










My adolescent, teenage, and early adult years were very typical. I will say though that becoming a mom has brought a whole new light to this story and I have had to process it all over again from the perspective of a mother. My little brother was 3 when he was diagnosed and now that I have a 3 year old boy (whose name also happens to begin with Z) I just can’t even imagine what it would be like to go through what my parents did. I have also been able to talk with my mom as a friend and hear the story in more detail, including some of the medical aspects that I would have never been able to comprehend as a young girl. I can see how God’s hand was on my parents in that season and how he is the strength that has carried them through and allowed their story to be a testimony. It is nothing short of a miracle really. Then there are the what if’s. I believe that God has a purpose for everything and you can’t live in the past, but I would be lying if I said I never ever wondered what it would be like if things turned out differently. J and I have a friend who is like a brother to us and he is the same age that Zeb would be. 



It was on Easter of 1991 that Zeb was admitted to the ICU. I remember being in the car with my dad and two older brothers who were 13 and 11 years old at the time and I was almost 9. My dad turned around and asked us if we understood what was happening to Zeb and in gentle fatherly words made sure that we knew the severity of the situation and that we may have to say our goodbyes. We knew. This was the hardest part for me. Zeb was the most fun loving energetic boy you would ever meet and it pained me to see my brother, my best bud, laying lifeless on his back in that cold sterile room. The Zeb I remember was often in overalls, he had a broad smile with big dimples, and was barefooted any chance he got.
But in the ICU he became swollen and they had to lay extra large tshirts over his body instead of dress him because of all the tubes that he was hooked up to. We still stuck together through it all. I remember reading to him The Runaway Bunny and stroking his forehead, because even though he couldn’t respond much, he seemed to appreciate the tender touch. In April of 1991 I was called out of my second grade class to the school office. When I arrived and saw my parents and brothers with red eyes full of tears I pretty much knew what was going on. My dad told us that Zeb had passed away the night before. I remember him telling us that our ultimate goal was to get to heaven to see Jesus, but that now we have even more to look forward to. Shortly after that we moved onto a large auditorium where they made the announcement to the entire student body of our tight knit private school. Of course people pulled together to support our family, and we felt love coming from every direction. Some ladies bought me a beautiful new dress to wear to the funeral. It’s hard to believe that was 20 years ago. There has been a lot of grieving and different stages of processing, but I feel like as a family we’ve grown closer to each other and closer to God. I will never know why my little brother had to leave us at such a young age, what I do know is that we will not take for granted having such a sweet loving boy as a part of our family. We will never forget the seven precious years that we had with him here on this earth and lastly we rejoice in knowing we will see him again.


If you know me you may know that I have my own opinions about birth. I get frustrated when our culture views it as some freaky, horrible, disgusting thing when it is actually very beautiful. I attribute my openness in part to be raised by a mother that has always had a very open and optimistic dialogue about childbirth. What may come as even more of a surprise is my mother’s openness to talking about death. I know it isn’t an easy topic to just toss around over dinner, and unlike birth it is a time of mourning. I do believe though that having healthy relationship with the reality of our immortality is a positive attribute. This thought occurred to me on memorial day when a couple different conversations transpired. The first was about birth order. I explained how I was the middle child for half of my upbringing, but I’ve been the youngest since my little brother passed away when I was nine. Later that night I was discussing with another friend about how we lost our insurance, and how this was a concern for me coming from a family with a brother that died of Leukemia. There it was again, I was just talking about my life and it naturally included a death within my family. This doesn’t always come up, but to not be able to talk about it would be disheartening. When I reflected on these conversations later I was grateful to have friends who could listen and felt comfortable with the topic. Sometimes it may just be a lightweight tidbit of information, other times I may want to go deeper with my feelings about loosing a loved one, but either way I know that I can talk about it with them. That is why I decide this week I want to share, for the first time, my story about loosing a brother to a terminal illness. I know there will be some tears, but I’m sure we’ve all been effected by death in someway and I hope that this topic can maybe act as a platform for honoring and remembering those that have gone before us.


7. They work at least 40 hours each week– I was at a friends house and her little boy asked where J was. I answered that he was working at the church. The boy said “Is he practicing his guitar”. I thought it was cute. His mom said her boys think that J is up at the church working on music all day. Wouldn’t that be nice? The truth is there is a long list of things included in the responsibility of a pastor like overseeing all of the ministries within the church, working on the publications including the bulletin, ads, or mail outs, counseling people in the church, managing the building. The list could go on and on and it will be different for every church. In our case it ends up meaning lots of over time.
The other day I found this list of “You Might Be A Pastor’s Wife If…” I will put my responses in blue.
Every summer you counsel at teen camp for your vacation.- Nope.
You have shaken as many hands as a politician.- Maybe if I went to a bigger church.
People think your husband works only three hours a week.- I hope not!
You can teach Sunday School and nurse your baby at the same time.- We don’t have Sunday School at our church.
You can sincerely pray for someone’s dog!- I’ve prayed for a chicken, I am sure I could pray for dog.
You spend more time visiting in hospitals than doctors do.- No.
People consider you a walking phone book for church members.- That’s what the internet is for.
You sing in the choir, teach Sunday School, and host a missionary family all in the same day.- No, No, and No*
You’re expected to be a piano player, a “spiritual gift!”- I wish.
I don’t think of myself as a pastor’s wife because I really don’t fit the traditional role. And for those that don’t know me, my husband is on staff at our church and has been for about 5 years as the associate pastor and is also the worship leader. So I may not claim to be a “PW”, but my husband is technically a pastor and I am technically definitely his wife. So yeah, I am a pastor’s wife, but I still like to rock out (i.e. Eisley last night at the Granada Theater. Woo Hoo!)
* We may not have a choir, or sunday school, but for the record we do support and love many wonderful missionaries. None of them have stayed at our house though.
I would like to close this week out with one more post about that crazy son of mine. He’s pretty much a riot. Earlier this week he went streaking through the house and ran out the back door wearing nothing but his tiger tail. Then yesterday he hid all of his stuffed animals under the covers, went to the corner to count, and then spent 15 minutes looking for them. And I just now busted him for making raisin soup (ingredients, raisins and water).
We are always having conversations like this one that I wrote down yesterday
Am I going to get taller and bigger like daddy?
Yes I am sure someday you will.
Yeah, but not Saturday, and not Monday. No… but maybe later.
Of course stories like these are so much cuter if you know his voice so I will leave you with this.