July 20, 2008

From: Gary West
Sent: Sunday, July 20, 2008 2:55 PM
To:
Subject: 5 gallon bucket (sat 7/19)

I was looking for a five gallon bucket to put my cast net into.
I spied one in the garage that was full of junk and decided to
clean it out.
I noticed it had some folded drawings in the top and I pulled them
out.
They were of the proposed subdivision and I knew immediately that
this was stuff from Allen's truck.
The drawings had a lot of blood on them.
They were probably on the dash. I guess it could have been either
of the boys.
The bucket had several personal items, a pocket knife, one that he
showed me when he bought it. A small new testament, a grooming kit. I
stopped before I could look at it all.
The crying is a thin representation of the deep sorrow that
circulates in my life now.
I can fake it for a while but seeing that blood on that particular
set of drawings was like a knife slicing me.
Just today I blessed our food and asked God to "keep our family
safe." I then looked at Benita and said "How many thousands of times
have I prayed that prayer? Meaning it every time"
We both cried in the restaurant.
When we pulled up to the mail box we had several cards in the box.
Benita made the statement "you are not just an average person"
I told her in tears that "All I have ever been is average. I would
give everything to have them back"
Then I walk in looking for a bucket.
The blood is the exclamation point for the finality of the loss.
I know that my life as I had it planned is wiped out. I can't
function properly. Sometimes I can't think at all.
As I encounter Allen's things, I see myself, my taste, my dreams,
my hopes, my family cut off.
I want to never forget but I can't constantly remember. I am stuck.
I ride along roads and see ball parks that we played in.
I ride along bay ways and rivers, remembering teaching him to fish
or steer the boat or trolling motor, bait and set a hook.
I look at the man toys that I have and wonder why? Why? Why?
I am so desperate for understanding and yet none is on the way.
I don't know what I am to learn from all this. I don't know what
the purpose is. I am confused at the logic. Confused at the method.
I am tired of the maze. I cannot find my way out.
I am sure that my life has a purpose...
What if that purpose is to endure loss and still be faithful.
Then that is what I do. Without fail, without falter I must please
Him.
Is that my talent, is that the one that he gave me, the talent of
endurance in pain.
I had thought myself of some more noble and grand example.
Now I find every day is an obstacle course set up by my enemy and
aided by the loss.
The loss allowed by my maker.
When Allen and Leslie would stray I had an example that I would use
to enforce my sermon.
I would ask them, "Do you know how special you are? Do you know
what a prized possession you are to God? You are like no one else on
earth. You alone can serve as only you can, your service to Him is
unique from all others.
I would then paint the picture of Satan holding them up in his
fist and shaking them at God saying " look what I've taken from you,
your most prized, your treasured, one that knew you and was raised for
you belongs to me now".. Laughing in Gods face as he tricks you into his
ways and away from God
I would tell them not to be the one that Satan uses to taunt God.
It would usually have the effect that the moment needed and they
would see the image of themselves in Satan's grasp, being used to harass
God.
Now the sermons are echoing back out of the box canyon of time.
They bring me comfort and despair at the same moment.
He is my Lord, if not in Him, who can we trust? Who can satisfy?
Who can fill me back up?
I can't let Satan use my reaction to taunt God. I must hang on.
G