Today is 11 years ago when we buried my oldest brother, Len. It was the most brutal end of the year and the most difficult New Year’s Eve and day.
I remember it like it was yesterday. I don’t enjoy remembering this day, and I don’t ever want to forget it. There is something about the whole experience that is always with me, and life has moved on with such fullness and goodness that it is hard to put words to. Many people have lost family members and people dear to you; I write this tonight to remind you of the importance of remembering. As we close out this 2023, please do not slam the door closed on the hard memories. Hold them with tenderness and set them aside if they are too painful, but I believe there is power in remembering.
Remember what you wish you could forget, journal about it, put words to it with a trusted friend, or perhaps take time to remember occasionally. Perhaps in remembering, you will recognize spaces where something needs to be offered: kindness, apology, grace, understanding…be curious in your remembering…
In remembering Len, I have come to understand the complexity of his life. I have recognized the places I missed speaking into, spaces I wish I would have. I have cherished the laughter we have shared, and I have loved remembering his love of family and his crazy ways. I wonder what life would be if he had lived and grown older with us the last 11 years. I wish I could celebrate him turning 60 this year. But then again, we didn’t even get to celebrate 50!
It is good to remember Len…I am sharing these words from his obituary with you. They are good remembering words that feel like they capture his personality and share our deep love for him!
Len loved to hunt crayfish and play with his children and 17 nieces and nephews. Len graduated from Grand Rapids Christian High School in 1982, enlisted in the United States Navy in 1982, and was nominated by Congressman Harold Sawyer and Senator Levin for admission to the Naval Academy in 1983, from which he graduated in 1987. Len served as a submariner until his retirement as a Commander in 2009. Len enjoyed camping, boating, golfing, and spending time with his wife, children, and extended family. In his own words, “The funeral of an “old man” is not a time for sorrow. Instead, rejoice in the varied color of my life and in the tremendous variety and texture of this family.” Len was deeply loved, sincerely liked, truly unique and will never be forgotten.
Till we meet again, ❤️
rehearsed possible conversations take so much energy that when the gathering arrives, individuals enter their family time depleted and ready for it to be over before it even begins.
If I reflect on 2023, I can tell you about the goals I did not meet, the habits I did not establish, and the money I did not save. But I can also tell you about the joy of people who showed up for me and encouraged me in ways I did not expect. I remember gifts I found that felt perfect for someone dear to me. I can tell you about sweet moments spent at the lake, drives to Starbucks with my niece before school, marveling at my nephew playing tennis in his senior year, and enjoying the life of my grown-up nieces and nephews and how they are establishing their own lives of faith, family, and work.
grateful for my Church (Eastern Ave, CRC), our Pastor (Pastor Lindsay Small), and the beautiful community that dwells together in the Word and the world!
One of my favorite seasons in my career was when I was doing adoption social work. I would meet with the prospective parent(s) for 15 to 20 hours and talk about everything from home layout and neighborhood to faith, fears, and hopes for their adopted child(ren) and family. We would talk about the child’s country of origin, homecoming, and entry into a new family, transitions for everyone, and how adoption can and should be a recurring conversation 
over the years. How an individual or family embraces adoption when a child is 5, 15, or 25 will look very different and will bring about different conversations. We would converse about conflict management, conversation patterns, and how loved and supported family members in the household felt. We ventured into areas of struggle, 
accountability, self-awareness, and addiction history. A home study is not for the faint of heart. And I always assured the families that when the child comes home, there will be lots of transition, questions, struggles, wonder, joy, and mystery! 🙂
What I love about Christmas is seeing pictures of “my people.” It has been 15 to 20 years since I sat at their kitchen table and wrote their home studies. The families I embraced when they welcomed their children home have grown up and navigated many spaces. I see their pictures and stand in awe of God’s goodness and provision through good and difficult days. I admire the parent(s) who stepped out in faith and journeyed a road that can be one of the most
unknown and life-rewarding. As we wrap up Christmas 2023, I want to tip my hat and open my heart to all adoptive parents. I see you and am so thankful for your commitment to love deeply and with abandon. To all siblings who woke up one day to an extra sibling or two, you. are more understanding of the world, which is beautiful and complex. I see you, and I thank you for all the times you had to step aside while your new sibling was getting used to so much new! To all the families who have journeyed adoption, your pictures tell a beautiful, rich, deep, meaningful story! May we all be privileged to hear just a bit of it someday.
