I love Jesus Christ. Sometimes it just feels good to say it. I know that he loves me and that feels even better.

Today is my anniversary. I have been married six years to a woman I absolutely adore. It is strange to lay here in the hall with her during a thunderstorm so large the power went out and probably won’t be back on for sometime. The reason we are laying in the hall is I am deathly afraid of tornadoes and I want to be able to grab Alyssa quickly if needed. I hope it never comes to that. Situations like this always remind me of God’s awesome power and the amazing majesty he has created.

I always knew Julie would be a good mom. The kind that would lay outside her child’s door all night long in case he or she woke up scared. The kind of mom that would hold a child all night until the fever broke or the vomiting stopped. The kind of mom that would endure pain or hardship while singing praises to God. In fact it is one of the traits that makes me attracted to her. Her unwavering commitment to her family, her children, and to me, but never putting us before God.

When I repeated our vows six years ago, and I don’t remember exactly what I said, the line for better or worse was probably there. Its part of many vows but probably one line that people don’t pay alot of attention to. The in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer are pretty easy to grasp. But for better or worse is so broad, so ambiguous I suspect I didn’t give it a second thought. But today I get it. The broad category of worse contains many things: divorce, death of family members, loss of a job, and lots of others. Worse is the season where neither of you know what to say. Confused about how you feel it is easier to muddle through the day and hope that tomorrow brings about better. And if better doesn’t come tomorrow that’s okay, because I know that it will come some day.

There are hundreds of reasons I love my wife, but today I know this; my worse days are always better because she is with me. Even in the midst of our grief there times to laugh and talk, times to steal a kiss, times to share a meal, and times to enjoy being parents. I could not have imagined the blessings God would bestow upon me at my wedding day. The blessings of both my children and the blessing of my wife of faith are just the beginning. God is so good to me.

Today didn’t feel like a day of celebration but everyday has been a walk with God made richer, fuller and better because of my wife. For better or worse I love you Jugi. – Ethan

I went for a jog the other day. Exercise always makes me feel better, but I also need to be in shape if we want the summer soccer season to go better than this spring. Since we moved to our new home, I have been walking down a side walk that goes through our neighborhood. It is hard even 3 weeks later to walk down that path. A path I had walked down so many times while pregnant with Noah. Walking to either get in shape for delivery or walking to encourage delivery. Seems ironic to me now. Why would I want that day to come sooner? And of course I had expecting to now be walking this sidewalk with our new double stroller with Alyssa showing all the things she recognizes to her new brother. Whatever I had expected, there I was running down the sidewalk alone, consciously trying to think of nothing. But as I got to the end of the path, I realized the weird analogy that I was in. The sidewalk ends at one point. I was running and see this end in sight. I see that my current path is coming to an end, and I must make a decision. Where am I going? What do I do when I get to this end? The other interesting thing was the cars on the street. I wondered what they were thinking. “Where is this girl going?” “Doesn’t she see the path ends?” Why did I care what they were thinking? All of this is a nice analogy of my life right now. On this path of life that clearly has an end, that I am just not recognizing yet. That end has actually already come, Noah’s death. I have reached the dead-end and must decide where to go from here. And I am concerned about the people watching me run. Concerned with how they think I am handling this. Am I going to right way? Am I living in the past or am I moving on too soon?

A wise woman has informed me that grief is different for everyone. There are stages and there are things that can be expected, but I have to find my own way through this. And the only way that is right, is my way. It is okay for me to think about Noah everyday, and it is okay if I try to find normal. (Which of course does not exist anymore. What was normal, will never again be normal. So I must find out what normal is now without Noah.) It is okay if I want to talk to Alyssa about her brother. It is okay if I want to make memorials for Noah or hang his picture on the wall. It is okay if I need to protect myself from things or people that may cause me more saddness, like new babies or pregnant women. And it is okay if I just don’t want to smile today. The hardest part about this is that the only thing that is normal or okay is what I make it. It would be easier if I could just read a book and someone tell me how to get through this. But I have to live each day and see what works for me that day. And that is where I am now.

Grief tonight is my soccer team going 0-8 for the season with a goal differential of 56-10. That hurts. I certainly could have had a better season. Oh well.

Another picture of grief is my two-year-old not sleeping during nap time the last two days. You can just picture the grief on Julie’s face; I didn’t have to. I’m guessing I am part of the problem. I’ve been off work for most of the month of May which means almost everyday is Saturday. And Saturday’s are great when they only occur once a week, but now Julie and I are little bit confused. Alyssa might be as well.

That is the hardest part of all this. What the heck is normal supposed to look like? Is normal merely a daily routine that you get up and complete without incident or real exertion? Is it trying to go back to the way things were before he Noah was born? I am not sure that is even possible or desired. I know I have been changed by this experience, but it pains me to think that we might slide right back into the old routine before Noah was born. Noah’s life should mean more to me. It should change my life. Things should be different in some profound way, and somehow it doesn’t really feel like it. But why not? I know that I have tendency to be short sighted and like most people do not want to for God to reveal his full plan. I think time will only reveal the path that God has laid before us.

So what happens in the meantime when I go back to work and things return to “normal”? Julie and I anticipated for so long the change that a new baby would bring. New adventures, new opportunities to learn and teach. Someone else for Alyssa to play with. I think Julie and I both agree that life with siblings leads to a richer and fuller experience, and we are saddened for Alyssa. We hurt when she says she misses Noah, and that she loves him. Such a sweet child that it breaks my heart that she might have to wait for those experiences. Oh how I long for the new normal we anticipated.

So maybe normal will just have to reshape itself everyday. Lord we are clay and you are potter. Maybe God will continue to mold us back to normal. I suppose that’s what I really want… to feel normal. Lord, today I need to believe your words from Ephesians 1:11-12 “In him we were also chosen, having been predestined according to the plan of him who works out everything in conformity with the purpose of his will, in order that we, who were the first to hope in Christ, might be for the praise of his glory.” – Ethan

Read Ethan’s blog below first.

I love the fact the Ethan thinks of me as his “Senior Editor.” He wants to make sure that anything he types, especially late at night, is okay and sounds right. Usually I am just pointing out sentences that are missing a verb, but tonight I told him that his thought process seemed to end rather quickly in his “To Blog” post. He said that is just where he ended, he didn’t know what else to say. That of course led me to want to leave a thought … or two.

Why did Ethan not have an emotional reaction? What would mine have been? We have discussed several times how blessed we are that God took Noah so quickly. Yes, I would have loved one more day, one more week with him, but it would have only made letting him go harder. I belive that God used Noah on this Earth long enough to serve his purpose, and then he quickly called him home. He was here long enough for all of us to know him, love him, but short enough to let him go. I still feel a peace, a peace that surpasses ALL understanding. Why does seeing a tiny baby not make me fall apart? It is the peace of God. However, seeing older boys hits me a little harder. As we were leaving the house today, I saw a young boy, maybe 7, riding his bike. I told Ethan, THAT is hard for me to see. I saw Noah as a baby, I even held him, but I will never see him as a toddler or grow up and learn to ride his bike. That reminds me more of what I have lost, and what I will never have with Noah.

A week later, I have realized that few of you probably know the miracle of Noah’s death. Is that an oxymoron? To prove that God took him home quickly when his work was done, let me tell you a few details. The 6 days that Noah spent at TX Children’s, he seemed to only get better. His lungs were clearing up, eventually breathing on his own, and increasing in movements. He had always had a steady heartbeat and high oxygenation (87-100 out of 100). Meaning his body was getting enough oxygen. Even Tuesday before he died, he seemed stable. His heartrate started to rise from 140s up to 170s, but nothing anyone was too worried about. Wednesday was a different story. It started with a phone call saying he seemed to be getting an infection and they wanted to put him on some antibotics, and it all ended 8 hours later. When I went to see Noah about noon, I could immediately tell something was wrong. He was pale, the beds of his nails blue (from lack of oxygen) and his stats were just off. Heartbeat up to 180s, oxygenation in the 80s. The nurses had him on antibotics for an infection, which turned out to be pneumonia, and had put him back on a respirator at full throddle. He went from a respirator to help him breath to a ventilator to completely breathe for him. We were basically waiting for Ethan to get to the hospital to make our final decision about his life. The miraculous part of his death was how quickly it came. His doctor had said he assumed that Noah would eventually die of something similar to this, pneumonia, but not until much later – 6 months or even 2 or 3 years. His nurse that day told me, when she came in that morning she never would have thought he would die that day. All signs to me that God just took him home.

I think that the details of his life make letting him go easier. He was always God’s child on a loan to me. This world was not his home, and he just passed through quicker than most of us. And I WILL see him again one day. 2 Peter says that with the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day. That comforts me because what may seem like a thousand years to me on Earth is only a day with the Lord, and only a day for Noah. He will only wait one short day for his Mommy to hold him again in Heaven. And if a thousand years is only a day, imagine how many “days” there will be for me to hold him. Right now I am just practicing patience.

A friend asked me last Saturday if I was going to continue writing on the blog. My initial reaction was, why? What is left to say, he’s gone. Six days later I still don’t have a great answer for that question, but I have decided to continue. The reasons I want to continue are the same reasons I started writing in the first place. I want to know what I was feeling when things happened and how have things changed. For me, and maybe Julie, this is a journal of the next year of my life without Noah. For those on the outside my hope and prayer is that somehow this makes sense to you and that despite my ramblings you will continue to pray for my family. Besides Steve really set this blog up to inform immediate family and a few others. Maybe it will continue to do that. Trust me when I tell you Julie and I were trully suprised how far it went.

It’s been a long week. It’s been a long month. There is sadness in my house, but strangely not a palpable sadness. It’s like the surface of a lake perfectly still until someone comes along and skips a rock across the surface. And once the surface is disturbed it’s hard to get the water calm again. Julie and I are trying to define what life without him should look like and feel like. It’s hard to know having never done this before and I think so far we are handling the ripples on the surface okay. What I am afraid of is when something comes along to throw the first rock, or boulder, into the lake displacing the sadness in all directions. It should have happened this week when I went into James Avery to pick up something for Julie while she waited in the car. I was standing in line behind a new mother with her baby boy. Now even before Noah I probably would have noticed, but this time it hit close to home. The little boy wrapped in a blue blanket was 3.5 weeks old; so tiny, so perfect. He sat in the exact same car carrier Julie and I use. His mother was there to get a set of boys shoes for the same charm braclet Julie wears. I look back now and think for sure that should have been a boulder. I wonder why I didn’t have more of an emotional reaction. I wonder what Julie’s would have been? – Ethan

As you may have seen, I have put some links on the right hand side of this blog. It contains comments from myself and Brad from the funeral services, as well as quick links to Julie and Ethan’s letter to Noah.
I am posting Papa’s words he spoke from the funeral here. They are encouraging and hopeful, yet give us a glimpse into the mind of a hurting father.

Noah’s Day – May 14, 2005

While I can still talk, I want to express to this church family at First Colony, to the our church family that meets at Sugar Grove, and to believers from lots of corners how wonderful your prayerful support for our family has been. There have been cards and calls and personal visits, food and monetary assistance, blogs and private prayer sessions all combining to hold us up. A simple thank you falls way short, but it will have to suffice until we can return the kindness.

We’re not going to dwell on the sadness of this day, but on the unimaginable joy that comes to parents through the lives of believing children. There are age groups and varied family make-ups present today, but I’m interested in presenting the perspective of an old grandpa to the parents who still have children in your home.

With the birth of Noah, the tradition of verbally placing the new cousin into God’s hands was continued. Really, well before his birth, every family prayer was for his well being; that he would grow up into a servant for God. Little did we know how very tall he would grow in nine short days. Noah’s life has served to lift up the Savior so the scripture that goes “if I be lifted up, I will draw all men to me” could be experienced by more people than just our church families. The out pouring of people all around the country testifying of their willingness to speak to God on behalf of Noah and our family is evidence of the uniting power available through prayer.

I’m pretty amazed at what I’ve seen in my children throughout this time. Their faith in God to take care of and finally receive their son and nephew Noah has been a blessing any parent would be overjoyed to see in their children. The question has arisen several times about how they could hold up in the face of such a tragedy. My only conclusion is that’s the way they have always behaved. Trusting God starts way early in a Christian home. Through the examples and teachings of family and Christian friends and teachers, children see and experience God in the lives of those who love Him. They realize that they themselves were placed in God’s hands when they first arrived on this earth. It is comforting, uplifting, and steadfast for them to know that Jesus really does love them. Like many of you, Donna and I started our kids out on a walk with God from the earliest time it was safe to bring them to church and even today with our encouragement. We insisted on their attendance on Sunday nights before we knew it still counted even if you didn’t come to the building.

Family traditions are an important part of raising and teaching children. I was so very fortunate to raised by Christian parents and lots of “church” parents. It got to be a pretty awesome family environment. However, at the time, it felt like everyone was watching me…I guess in fact they were.

The words found in Proverbs 22 “Train up a child in the way he should go and when he is old he will not depart from it” keep coming back to me. At one time it loosely meant that children would come back from their adolescent sojourn to rejoin the flock. After the events of these past two weeks, the way in which I’ve seen that scripture come to life in my three children and their spouses far exceeds my wildest expectations.

The blog site was started because our kids knew of only one way to begin to handle the challenges of Noah’s condition. Reaching out to other Christians was not a sign of strength, but a plea for strength that comes from the combined prayers of the community of believers.

There is such an extreme of emotions at this time in our lives, but what I cling to is a joy and peace that fills my being with thanksgiving because of the Christian example my children are to me … and maybe a few others. I acknowledge that all things work together for good to those who love the Lord, but it’s been a real stretch these past few days to understand it.

That’s why I’m up here…to tell you of the good things that await faithful parents. I want you to know that you have in your job description the charge to raise Godly children. You will model a lifestyle founded in the belief that God can do anything. Your children will grow up watching you turn to God for both the celebrations and the problems.

But the gift to accomplish that task will not come from your perfection. I speak from experience! They will hear some phrases slide out of your mouth that you later can’t take back, they will see frustrations that almost wear you down, sorrows inside your family and in the families of your friends that seem so unfair, they’ll see you kick things, throw things, break things, cut off other drivers in unmanageable traffic, they will even hear you disagree with the preacher, get mad at the elders, and sometime change churches all in an attempt to cope. But most of all, they’ll see you continually seek God for His guidance and direction for your family. They’ll see Christian friends rise to be the hands of Jesus in times of crisis and sorrow and they’ll receive the love and care from those friends as though from family. Your job as a parent will be difficult, so appropriate all the assistance you can by associating with other God-seeking believers. Start before your children are ever born introducing them to the Father.

The last few times I sat with Noah, I would lean over his crib, kiss his head, and whisper in his ear for him to ask God to make him whole. I told him I was sure God would listen to him. I believe God heard and honored that small prayer. You see it came naturally to begin training Noah in the way he should go. It’s a family tradition…a family of God. Make it yours.
Papa Eller

I have been telling Ethan that we need to write a Thank You note on the blog. I think the reason neither of us has done it, is because I do not think a simple “Thank You” is enough. We have been so touched by all the comments on the blog, the emails, the flowers/plants, the gift cards, the food, the hand written notes, and the monetary gifts that we have received. Noah sure woke up the body of Christ.

I know that the peace I feel right now is a result of all of you that have been praying for us and our family. There is definitately saddness. I found a small pillow today that Noah had in his bed at TX Children’s. As I brought it to my face, I could still smell his sweet scent. And though things like this will continue to remind me of reality, God’s peace still resides in me. Throughout this journey, I have been brought back to prayer as have many of you. And I know that it works! I hope that we can return the gift of prayer in your life some day.

Julie

I am certain that this would have been easier to write if only I had listened to your mother. She asked me repeatedly to write something in your journal before you were born, and like most husbands I foolishly disregarded your mother’s sentimentality. It probably would have been a letter filled with hope and the promise of things to come, but now you have come and gone so quickly I almost don’t know where to start.

I’d be lying if I said it didn’t thrill me to find out I was having a son. I think deep down inside every man dreams of it. Finally, someone else in the house who can communicate in grunts and groans. Someone else to make messes your mother can’t recognize. Someone else who might actually enjoy watching endless hours of sports. I really only mention these because I am sure that your mother is rolling her eyes just as my mother is doing. I would have enjoyed teaching you that skill as well.

I’d like to think that you had enormous potential. Maybe you would have worn the Chelsea blue or played in a World Cup. Maybe a businessman with the highest of acumen and skill. Maybe a minister with a gift for speech and God’s insight. Or maybe a father who faithfully served God and loved his wife and children. But all those dreams seem insignificant compared to everything I know we would have done.

We would have fallen asleep on the couch together during your sister’s nap time. We would have kept your mom up later than she wanted. We would have delighted your grandparents with each of your new words or skills. As you grew older we would have driven countless hours to countless soccer games. We would have done tons of homework around a kitchen table where we would have shared dinners with your mom and sister. We would learn to use tools, learn to shave and tie a tie; things a father should teach a son. The same things my father was able to teach me.

I wish I would have been able to teach you how to be a man of God. To love your wife as Christ loves his church. To pray for guidance and wisdom from the Lord as you lead your family. To teach you about sexual purity in the face of overwhelming odds. To use scripture as the cornerstone of your life. And while I would be the first to admit I lack in these areas, maybe just maybe, we would have made each other better. And once all the arguments and words about why some clothes, behaviors, girls, and friends are just inappropriate you would be able to stand on your own and make Godly decisions. Your mother and I would be able to stand before our God as stewards of his child with the knowledge that we set you free with your own faith and love of Jesus Christ.

Somehow it never worked out that simple, as God had bigger plans for you. The story of your life spread far and wide in a matter of days. People began praying and calling on the name of the Lord for healing in you; healing that never came. But before you left us, relationships with the Lord were renewed, hearts were softened and Mommy and Daddy were able to share our faith. I hope that we were your voice reflecting the glory of God as Paul describes in 1 Corinthians 2:

“When I came to you, brothers, I did not come with eloquence or superior wisdom as I proclaimed to you the testimony about God. For I resolved to know nothing while I was with you except Jesus Christ and him crucified. I came to you in weakness and fear, and with much trembling. My message and my preaching were not with wise and persuasive words, but with a demonstration of the Spirit’s power, so that your faith might not rest on men’s wisdom, but on God’s power.”

Noah, I will always consider myself blessed when you opened your eyes as I carried you in your final moments, as though to give Julie and me one last message “Mommy and Daddy I can go home now”. My son, now I know that you can and I am proud to be your father. -Ethan

To My Noah,
Hello, Goodbye. Those words from a Michael W Smith song, have played in my head since the day you were born. I remember hearing the song for the first time, but I did not understand the emotions that were behind the words I sang. Today is very different. Though I have thought of that song everyday for the last week, I did not play it until today. This IS the hardest thing I have ever had to face. You and I have barely met, and I just don’t want to let go of you. I want to wake up to your beautiful face everyday, I want to see your smile, I want to see you run around with Alyssa, and I want to hold you for more than just a while. But that was not God’s plan. Though I will not experience many things with you, God blessed me with so many precious memories. Sitting by your bedside everyday whispering in your ear, kissing your sweet face, the smell of your skin, holding you in my arms, singing to you, wrapping your tiny fingers around mine when you could not hold them there alone. I look back at our 8 days together and treasure every moment I had with you, and I pray that your sweet face will always stay in my memory.

Noah, you were a sacrifice for this world. God sent you for a reason and you served his kingdom well. Our Lord used your life to bring families together, to strengthen the Body of Christ, and to bring others to their knees in prayer. I truly believe that because of your life, heaven’s population has increased. And when your job here was done, I was finally able to hold you in my arms and see your beautiful face – no wires, no tubes, no nurses. Hold you and pretend that everything was okay for just a moment. We stared at you and talked to you for an hour. We sang Alyssa’s favorite bedtime songs, we told you we loved you, and I gave you some advise for Heaven. Go find your Nanny Conner, she will be waiting for you. If she falls asleep, help her hold her cup of coffee. And Pappy, I am sure he has found his brown recliner in Heaven, and well just make sure you don’t sit in it. There will be so many welcoming you with loving arms. And when you get there, save us a place.

I kept a journal for you while I was pregnant, and tears came to my eyes today as I read what I wrote 2 days before you were born:

“Pregnancy is a wonderful thing, and in the long run I really don’t care what I have to experience to bring you to this world. I want to see your beautiful face, and I just want to hold your tiny body next to mine. I want to teach you all the things that I have learned in my life so you never have to be hurt or sad. But I have to settle for giving you to God, and letting Him lead and guide you.”

I am amazed that the simple things I wanted, God provided. I was finally able to see your beautiful face, and even if just for a while, I held your tiny body next to mine. Free of this world, you will never have to be hurt or sad. God is good.

The time with you passed too quickly. But I am comforted that when it was time to go, you were at peace, you felt no pain, and you went from my loving arms directly to the arms of your Savior. There is no other place I want you to be, but safe in the arms of our God.

I will never forget you,
Mommy

In leiu of flowers Julie and I hope that you might be willing to make donations to any the folllowing not for profit organizations:

Ronald McDonald House at TCH
6621 Fanin AB485
Houston TX 77030
Attn: Nanci Allen

Lifeline Chaplaincy
1415 Southmore
Houston TX 77004
713-524-1055
http://www.lifelinechaplaincy.org

First Colony Church of Christ
2140 First Colony Blvd.
Sugar Land, TX 77479
281-980-7070
www.firstcolonychurch.org

Thanks, Ethan and Julie