Missing Z

Rachel's post today hammered home a lot of good, emotional points. I miss him so much sometimes. There are days when I'd give just about anything to be able to call him up and talk about sports. I remember breaking down (in public) this past summer when I was considering (after the Indians resigned Travis Hafner) if they could afford to keep Sabathia and Sizemore around, and if not, trying to figure out which one would be the better keep, and knowing that if I could get JZ's opinion on it, he'd know exactly the right and most sensible answer.

But it goes beyond sports. Beyond any single topic we ever talked about, and Lord knows we covered just about every spectrum of conversation we could. I just ... miss him. Rachel's right. We're supposed to be getting together to watch the draft in a few months, having children grow up together, and all that stuff. That's how it was supposed to work. I still get angry with God because it doesn't work that way.

I offer two things today, in this post, in memory of Joshua Wayne Zickefoose. A song and a joke. If you don't like sick twisted humor, and/or you might find offense to certain types of jokes, I'd warn you not to read the joke at the end of this post. It's the one alluded to in Rachel's post.

This is a song that brought my a lot of comfort a couple of years ago when in the span of a week I lost a dear friend who was also a peer and my grandfather during Christmas Break from ONU. Some of the details of the song don't really apply to me, but the overall feeling and message of the song does bring me comfort and hope.

Thinking About Forever
P.O.D.


[Time goes by and God knows I try to carry on with the life]
Decide not to hide feelings inside, even though they hurt
Sometimes, I forget to remember you
It’s easy to lock away these pains, don’t want to relive it through
But I stay strong, you taught me how to move on in this world
I married my sweetheart, even got a little baby girl
I wish you could see her, I swear she looks just like you
[If you can hear me, show me a sign, please send a butterfly or two]

chorus:
[I’m thinking about forever missing you (I'm thinking about forever)]
[I know you’re so much better we made it through (I know you're so much better)]

Now I know what it means to live for someone else
To give up yourself
[Things have changed, and times it gets kind of strange]
Your love remains the same
Do I make you proud? Mama, can you see me now?
Whatever is good in me is because you showed me how to take love by the hand
And so now I can share you with my baby
So that she can understand

chorus

ending chorus:
[I’m thinking about forever missing you (I'm thinking about forever)]
[I know you’re so much better we made it through (I know you're so much better)]
[I’m thinking about forever missing you (I'm thinking about forever)]
[I’m tripping on whatever hearing you (I'm tripping on whatever)]

This was one of JZ's favorite jokes. Mandy didn't let him tell it because it was so awful. I don't particularly like it, but it reminds me of him, so I tell it, because it's like having a part of him back when I tell it. I'm sure this will offend some of you, but I'm sorry ... I have to do it.

So, a woman went into labor on the first of April. She went to the hospital very early in the morning. The birthing process was long, painful, and complicated. But, finally, after several hours in labor, the baby is delivered.

Immediately after the baby was delivered, the doctors took it from the room. An hour goes by, and they still haven't returned the baby to the mother. Two hours, three hours and still no baby. Finally, six hours after the baby was delivered, the doctor enters the room, dribbling the baby like a basketball. He chest passes the baby to the mother who is laying in bed, and she ducks in horror and involuntary reaction and the baby flies through the window and plummets to the ground.

In horror and grief the woman yells at the doctor "Oh my God, you just killed my baby"

The doctor replies "April fools! It was born dead."

I miss you. You bastard.

Widowed by the Church

So, last week at jOURney, we looked at Acts chapter six. We looked at how the early church took care of their widows, and we asked who the modern day widows are that we need to look after. I suggested those who have been "widowed by the Church". Those people who no longer feel welcome as a part of the body of believers because of an action, inaction, attitude, or words of someone acting (knowingly or not) as a representative of the Church and of Jesus.

This week, we looked at Acts chapter seven. We looked at the final speech of Stephen's life, and Trevor asked "why do bad things happen to good people". This seems to be a common theological question debated ... well, probably since before Moses. More specifically, he asked us to ponder why certain people die at times where it seems as if they had more to offer, more to give, more ... life.

One suggestion offered is the answer that "we're all deserving of death, no one is really that good". Before I continue, let me say that I understand the theology behind this. Romans, we are all sinners, worthy of death, no one is good, etc. I get the theology.

But this line of thinking is exactly how someone becomes a "widow of the Church".

It's perhaps the easiest way to get someone there.

Think about it. A young woman just lost her husband in a car accident. A mother lost her 22-year old son at war. A two-year old loses a battle with cancer.

And the people affected, The young widow, the hurting mom, the confused family ... they go to the Church, or to someone who represents Jesus, and they ask them about their tragedy. It could be as simple as "why", or "how could a 'loving' God allow this to happen", or any form variant.

And imagine the reaction you get when you answer the question with "everyone deserves to die. no one is actually a good person. we all sin. want to pray and accept Jesus as your savior?"

Now, I can't speak for you, but I would not want to be associated with the person who gave me that response at all. And I certainly wouldn't want to worship the same God they do, nor would I want to hold on to the hope they hold on to. Anyone who ever associated themselves with that "Jesus" would always bring back bad memories, and possibly even repulse me. This person has effectively been widowed by the Church, no longer feeling welcome, or loved.

(As a tangent, do people with this point of view feel hypocritical when they talk about abortion? My experience teaches me that most folks with the above point of view, where we all just deserve to die because God is perfect and we sin, are also anti-abortion. But, if that living being that is a fetus is just a sinner (original sin, right?), then what tragedy is there if it dies? It's just there to die, so there's no tragedy right?)

Are we (and I'm including myself here, I know I've said dumb, hurtful things in the past, and done so when representing Jesus) so ignorant as to never realize the impact of our words to a hurting person, to a person in need, to a person we are to love? Are we unaware of how we widow people away from us?

The flood of emotion I get from this sort of behavior and thinking is a wide range. There's anger, confusion, embarrassment, and so many others. Why do we get so focused on the eternal, that we lose sight of the here and now. Why do we get so focused on "winning people for Jesus", that we lose sight of loving them. And not just loving them because Jesus says to, but loving them because that's what they need, and what we'd want if we were them.

I'm rambling now ... hard to do when you're typing and not talking, but I'm doing it. So, I guess I'll cut this off now, but might add another post on it later.

It's Not A Sprint, It's a Marathon

I'm not one for clichés. Sometimes, however, they prove to be important. And the cliché referenced in the title of this entry is a lesson I'm currently learning in a couple of places.

First and foremost is with my career in Aflac. I'm off to a pretty slow start. Myself, my district, my regional, my wife, and just about everyone I know would like to see my writing more premium at this point in time. But it hasn't happened. For a number of reasons. Bad luck, bad timing, sometimes bad technique. And it would be easy to get discouraged.

Today was a good day, though. I saw six employees at an account in Tiffin, and we signed up five of them. The first time I can actually call something a "good day" in terms of premium production. And I was able to reflect on my previous endeavors. And I noticed I'm typically a "slow starter". My first five semesters at ONU, here are the grades I got in core courses for my major: B, B, C, C, B. I didn't get an "A" in a computational mathematics course at ONU until Spring Semester of my sophomore year. Maybe I'm just an optimist, but I like to look at that and say that pretty soon, I'll break through and start succeeding at Aflac, too.

The ONU mathematics courses aren't the only thing that indicate me as a slow starter, either. I got two "C"s in my undergraduate Real Analysis courses, before breaking through for a "B" and an "A" in my 500 level Real Analysis courses at BGSU (just don't ask me about the 600 level stuff). I got a very low grade on my first Abstract Algebra course as an undergraduate, before turning that course into the highest "A" in the class, followed by that professor taking me under his wing for two independent study courses in Abstract Algebra that followed that, and two "A's" in my 500 level courses at BGSU. Heck, it's laughable how many times I screwed up early on trying to court Rachel!

So, I'm encouraged that I can take a step back, look at my Aflac career, and recognize it for what it is: a marathon, not a sprint. I want to be in it for the longhaul. I want the 10+, 20+ year career with Aflac, not the 2-year cash flow, followed by burn-out. I want to learn the good habits that will get me through slow months later on.

Oh, right ... I said there were a couple of places I was learning this lesson. The other is dealing with grief.

I initially thought this was a sprint. I moved on quickly a couple of years back when Grandpa and Erin passed away. I pre-dealt with the death of my grandmother. And I thought I mourned and quickly moved on with JZ, too.

I've recently found out that it wasn't so easy with JZ. I've had plenty of "rough days" recently, with memories flooding me, and emotions overwhelming me. It's opened up the floodgates to grief from Grandpa and Erin, too, that I thought I was past.

Rachel and I were working on the office over the weekend, trying to get it set up for reorganization. I stumbled upon the bulletin from Erin's memorial at ONU, and then almost broke the plaque my mother bought for my wedding that was in memory of Grandpa. I couldn't even identify all the emotions that swarmed over me, I just know I didn't like them.

I guess this is good though. I guess the first step in really dealing with my grief is to recognize that I have to give it some level of priority and actually deal with it, not expect it to pass because I want to move on. I just hoped this would be a sprint, but unfortunately, I'm learning it's a very, very long marathon.

It might even be a triathlon.

I hope not. I don't know how to swim.

Replacing an Icon

Been busy lately. This past weekend was Sigma Theta Epsilon's National Conclave of Chapters. Leading up to the meeting, I was National Secretary, and coming out of the meeting, I'm now National Vice President.

It's odd. I was elected National Secretary three years ago (in 2004), and I had no timidity about my ability to do the job, even though it didn't exactly match my skillset. I was a wide-eyed kid, about to be fresh out of my undergraduate studies, but I knew what I needed to do, and I knew I could do it.

It probably helped a great deal that I had a checklist of tangible measurable things (like getting out newsletters, membership records, and the such) that I could measure my success against that would help me. It also helped my confidence that I walked into the office with its standards not exactly the highest, and simply catching up on the past two guys' lack of work would be a success.

Now ... I'm National Vice President. Charged with being the programming and spiritual leader of the fraternity. Something much more suited to my skillset. And yet, I'm much more tentative about having success. Some of that is the success in this office is less tangible and less in my full control. Are there programs available? Are people using the programs? Part of it also has to be that I'm replacing someone I consider an icon of the fraternity, and a mentor of mine, in the position.

I think I'm off to a good enough start. Lead devotion Sunday Morning, encouraging us as a fraternity and as men of God to not limit ourselves to trying to do what is good, but try to do what is better. Introduced a programming theme, "Made For Love", and using a key verse of Micah 6:8, encouraged our members to be made for love, and to love loving others.

And now to follow through.

The weekend was amazing, but difficult to get through at times. And not just for business stress. Also for emotional baggage. Shan lead worship on Sunday morning, and the beauty of my brothers singing in my voice moved me, and brought me memories of JZ. I almost doubled over, overcome with emotion, and had to leave the room, but was able to make it through. The image of JZ looking down on conclave from heaven, and smiling as we moved forward as fellow workers with God was almost too much for me to bear.

It's not as though I shouldn't have seen it coming. I've had a string of bad days recently where thoughts of JZ have just rushed into my head and overwhelmed my emotions. About ten days ago, I was out shopping with my wife and her mother, and just got this urge to talk to JZ about the Indians ... get his opinion on if they could only keep one, who should they keep: Pronk or Hafner. I could hear him arguing both sides, just trying to put all information out. And I missed him so much. And I still miss him so much.

I finally figured out on the drive home why this weekend was so difficult for me in regards to JZ memories. One, JT was the alumni delegate for my "home" chapter, and JZ's best friend. Two, of the two events I had no control over that pushed me to National focus, JZ was integral to both. He nominated me for Epsilon President way back in February of 03, and he organized the first multi-chapter STE Bowl game, which lead to my desire to see more of the same, as well as some recognition for me as chapter president, when the game was a great success.

I can credit my national involvement and my ascension nationally at least in part to JZ. And he's an icon in my life that none will ever replace.

I think I should look into getting some grief counseling. I've been overcome by emotion often recently. I've stared into the heavens and longed to talk sports with JZ. I've stood in department stores holding conversations with JZ. I've closed my eyes and asked Grandpa if he's proud of me. I've driven down 30 and wondered why I didn't do more to be closer with Erin.

It's not that I don't like to remember. I love to remember. It's not even the tears I don't like, because they remind me that I have great joy in part because of those I miss. It's just ... I feel like I'm not making progress, and I don't know what else to do.

I knew I was lucky when I got through 22+ years of life before I lost someone very close to me to the icy hand of death.

I guess I never realized just how lucky.