My Best Man

Here's a video tribute someone did about my friend JR. It brings tears to my eyes to hear his voice again, but it's bittersweet. I am truly blessed and loved to have had this man as my friend.

Olympic madness

The Olympics start this week in Beijing, China. I am SO glad that I did not go. The photos of the air over there shoudl give us pause. Like this one by Kevin Dooley. That's not fog - it's smoke. SMOKE.

The Chinese Olympic organizers have instituted a policy to cut down on the crud in the air, but it might be too little, too late. The Chinese government has an even-odd license plate policy to reduce the number of cars on the road. China has also shut down or temporarily closed some of the factories that belch the toxic mess into the air.

The air is so bad, that there has been talk of issuing MASKS to competitors so they won't ruin themselves by competing in the toxic soup. Christine Brennan of USA today said today that it was "pea soup" out there. It had been clear the past two days, but not today.

The IOC, because they want their party to go well, has said that the air quality should pose "no significant risk" to competitors. But some American track cyclists arrived there wearing face masks, something they later had to apologize for.

For my part, I will be writing about the Olympics from here - DC. I have no plans to go to Beijing any time soon, especially not to work 16-18 hours a day for three weeks. Nah, that's not what I call fun.

But I look forward to the competition. I hope Michael Phelps can win his 8 gold medals. It's a Herculean task, but he could do it. Whether the Chinese or the USA or Russia will top the medals table is not really of importance to me. I hope to see a good competition. I do want Americans to win, but I know we can't win everything.

Reflections

I haven't posted in a month.

It's been that long since my friend J.R. died.

I miss him.

I miss being able to call him on the phone and talk for hours; I miss getting together for coffee or breakfast. Everywhere I look around me I see reminders of him. Even writing this post, I see a small mixer board next to my computer that I was going to use to do a podcast with him. We never did it. We wanted to, but somehow "life" crowded it out.

I haven't been overwhelmed with the waves of sadness like I was at first. I served as an usher at his funeral last month. My prayer that day was "God, get me through this day." He did. It wasn't easy, but we got through it.

The World Keeps Turning

I stopped by to see J.R.'s widow Candee a couple of weeks ago. I dropped in unannounced, but she seemed glad to see me. She is not the kind to ask for help much. But I hope she will take it from those of us who loved her husband so.

This month has been like being on the end of a whip held by some invisible hand. I can't act as presumptuously as I did before; life is too fragile to me now. I find myself thinking that if a good man like J.R. can die young, what about the rest of us who aren't as shining an example of following Christ? David says in the Psalms that "all my days were written in your book before ever one of them was." But none of us has read that book. We only see the pages as they turn.

I didn't think fear would be part of this process. Fear of bad things happening, things out of my control. I find myself wanting to hold my wife tighter now; sometimes I feel scared to let go of her. I want to get more richness out of life because it could be over so soon. I also went back to therapy.

Victory in Jesus?

Sometimes I hear people talk about how triumphant they are in Jesus, how they have the victory in everything, how they can do "all things through Christ who strengthens me!" I'm not sure they're reading that verse right; Paul was talking about how he could handle all the horrible things that happened to him as well as the good things through Christ. Right now I just feel shattered, like someone who survived a plane crash or a car wreck.

I find myself wondering about people I read about or hear about on the news, people who were killed in car wrecks, in the war in Afghanistan, in storms or floods or earthquakes. Do their relatives feel the overwhelming sadness I felt? How are they living? What do they do to cope with the pain of loss?

What on Earth am I here for?

I also find myself asking whether what I am doing is what I am supposed to be doing. Is the work I am doing what God wants me to do or am I just occupying space? I read an article about five signs of a lousy job on MSN's careers page and I have four and a half of the five at my work. Kind of made me wonder.

I've had that thought too, since J.R.'s death. Many people try to console themselves by saying he 'died doing what he loved.' I even said that. But what if tragedy befell me? Would they say that about me or would they say "He died doing what he had to do." What an awful thing to have written or said about you. There's no life in that, no love, no joy, no peace, no kindness. Only neccessity. And for what? For money? For the praise of others? Because I don't know how to do anything else? I know there is more. I have to find that life that my friend talked so much about. The abundant life he always pointed to. That's what I need more than anything.

There is a friend....

that sticks closer than a brother. I have lost such a friend this weekend. He was my best man, he was my best friend, and I don't know how to think of the world without him in it.

A new friend

J.R. Davison and I first met when I was one of his clients at Grace Ministries in Manassas, Virginia. He had a gentleness of soul and a kindness that I have found in very few people. Most of all he was always pointing me to Jesus as the answer to all of life's problems.

He was the kind of friend you could call at 3 in the morning and he would be there. Now he's not here any more. J.R. died over the weekend from a massive heart attack while doing what he loved to do - talking with men about Jesus.

Ordination

J.R. - an ordained minister, though he held the titles that go with that lightly - was instrumental in starting the Northern Virginia Tres Dias Community. He attended Reston Bible Church, and was a friend to everyone who knew him. When my wife and I sang at his ordination, I joked "am I going to have to call you the Reverend Davison now?" In his typical style, he smiled and said, "no, I just want to be called your friend."

Last good byes

The last time I saw J.R. was at Fairfax Hospital. My wife and I had just suffered a miscarriage, and I called him to talk to him. In his typical style, he talked to me at length in a gentle and reassuring way. Then later he called me back to say he would be there when my wife had surgery.

And he was. He was there. I cried on his shoulder and he sat with me for hours while my wife was in surgery. He later went into the recovery room with me and talked to her. He was an extraordinary man. When talking about the whole thing later, as we cried, I told my wife "Jesus knew whom to send, honey. He sent J.R."

I write this through tears because I can hardly believe it. The experts say the first stage of grief is denial, and I'm in it. I can hardly believe that it's true. I knew this day would come some day. I just didn't think it would be today.

Semper Fidelis

J.R. was a former Marine. He served as a forward observer in Vietnam, and said his job involved strapping on a 12 foot antenna that said "shoot me." But he survived.

I thank God that he did. I would never have known him as a friend. My life has been enriched because of him. He was a priceless friend in every sense of the word. I will miss him terribly.

I know J.R. would smile - that smile that always seemed to say "it's good to see you," and you knew he meant it - and say "why are you making such a big deal? I'm where I have always wanted to be. I see now the source of my life, and I celebrate His grace." I guess I should envy J.R. more than cry for him. But the world is a poorer place without him.