Your Half Cup of Coffee

Good mourning!

Welcome to your mourning coffee! My heart is broken and the hurt of losing my friend, my brother, my uncle, my father, my grandfather, Garry Naberhaus is greater than I could ever possibly handle, unless God would help me. He can and He will. Because that is who He is. Garry saw and now sees God in this same way. Willing and able. Not because we deserve His love or that He needs to love us. God loves both Garry and I because He wants to, because He chooses to. And as Garry is with our Lord and Savior, Jesus, and I now wait apart from him, I do not wait without hope. I do not mourn without hope. I will not despair. Though the hurt still stings sharp, filling my spirit like lungs filled with cold, mid-winter Iowa air. I will not despair. But instead, with God holding me close and comforting me in my grief, I will wait. Until I see Garry again. I will try to be patient. Jesus, please help me. Amen.

Your Morning Song: "Mercy's Shore" by Needtobreathe

Your Morning Scripture: 2 Corinthians 5:6-10

So, we are always of good courage. We know that while we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord, for we walk by faith, not by sight. Yes, we are of good courage, and we would rather be away from the body and at home with the Lord. So, whether we are at home or away, we make it our aim to please Him. For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, so that each one may receive what is due for what he has done in the body, whether good or evil.

...

I remember when I first met Garry. With his intense sunglasses, his cane, and his stumbling walk. I didn't know what to make of him. I'm not sure that I'd ever met someone some frail that spoke so firmly, so bluntly, so deeply.

I didn't know him before he got sick.

I can't remember exactly what it was that set Garry and I on such a close walk in life these last few years. But it was very like the Louis L'Amour westerns I so deeply enjoy. Two strangers meet by seeming chance on a trail headed west. There might have been a moment of virtue, or an action to protect the weak, but the two wanderers would see in the other what L'Amour called "a man to ride the trail with."

Garry was and is a man to ride the trail with.

But as he got sicker and weaker and he reached new depths of frailty, his faith seemed somehow stronger, his trust in the Lord somehow greater.

I've worked and walked closely with people dying, with those losing loved ones to death. From newly born babies with only hours to live, to those who have lived long, full lives and are now at the very end, I have seen it all. And though I do not regret it, I have noticed an interesting truth that exists without exception.

Death crushes us all unlike anything else. And when it does, whatever is in our hearts cannot help but come out. Crush an orange and you will get orange juice and pulp. Crush a Christian, a true believer, an actual child of the one true living God, and you will get Jesus and all the fruit of the Spirit come rushing out.

So many faces, names faded, rise up in my mind. Some became bitter and vulgar and almost wild in their desperate anger. Others became what I imagine Stephen was like as he was being stoned to death, filled with peace and rest beyond human comprehension (Acts 7:54-60).

Other than the occasional barnyard word for cow manure, Garry was not vulgar. He was not bitter. He was not wild in desperate anger at the crushing weight of his slow, creeping death.

When the crush of death came crashing down on him, Garry found unexpected joy in his daily and desperate dependance on Jesus. It was a struggle, and he was not perfect (he'd want me to say that twice, but I'll do once, and you can read it again if you like).

But Garry struggled! I was there! I was a witness with my own eyes. Who among you could be so strong as Garry was before he was sick, and then still be so faithful to God and family, when sickness robs you of your strength, down into your very bones?

Who among you could be dying in slow motion, for years, and still come to be with us, his family in Jesus, on so many Sundays and Thursdays? His voice still echoes in my heart when I asked him how he was feeling one Sunday morning, "miserable, but I'd miserable at home, so I might as well be here." And then he smiled at me.

Who among you could have open wounds lingering on your legs, skin of your arms tearing at a touch, eyes blurry and burning, mouth dry, and still try so unbelievably hard not to be short with your wife and children? I mow the lawn on a moderately hot day, and I've got to be careful with my tone.

Who among you, days before you died, would welcome people from the church into your home to feed them and love them and care for them? May our own excuses of inconvenience and discomfort have died with Garry.

Death came crashing down on Garry. From my time with him it was crushing in agonizing slowness, but also a repeated, horrible set of waves washing over him. And he remained faithful. He stood firm. He was weak in the arms of His faithful savior. God's joy at Garry's obedience and trust, was Garry's strength in the eye of the storm.

God allowed His son Garry to be tested in a way that still chills me to my own bones. And Garry remained true. Garry passed the test. Garry did well with what he was given. And I know that at the moment of his death, Garry heard his savior say, "well done my good and faithful servant."

Well done, Garry! Well done!

The pain of losing you as my brother and father in Christ is so great that, in my weakness, I sometimes have to come up for air and try not to think of you. I would be more ashamed of that if I wasn't so bad at not thinking of you. Because I love you. And I can't wait to see you again.

I don't know if they have coffee in the new heavens and new earth. But if they do, I'll pour you a full cup.

I will see you again.

This is not the end.

There are no goodbyes between God's kids.