The Revs. Metheran (or, "Confessions of Metheran-aholic)

Jess: We have been incredibly remiss about keeping up with our blog. We'll try to do better, if only for Brad Johnson's sake. :)

In the span of two weeks, Wes and I were both ordained (not that we're keeping track, but I was first). This is a goal that both of us have been working for for more than a decade. We entered college as theology majors, knowing that we would go to seminary afterward. When we got married, we almost immediately moved to New Jersey so that Wes could start seminary. Then it was my turn. Our married lives have always in some way revolved around our calling, our vocation.

And yet, being ordained--getting to be The Revs. Cain--is really just a beginning. Although we have been working toward this for years, although so much of our married life has been spent working out the details of being double seminary students, fitting in CPE and internship, when to move and when to stay, we are not done. While this was a goal, it was a goal with a purpose: serving God and serving others through ordained ministry.

To be ordained means to be "set apart." Methodists and Lutherans firmly believe that all of God's children (all the baptized) are called to live lives of faithful service. Being ordained means to be a servant leader, giving one's life over in service to God and others. Being ordained means being ministers of Word and Sacrament. We are called to study and learn, to teach and preach, to reach out into the world and do God's work. We are called to carefully use God's living word and God's gifts of bread, wine, and water. We are called to marry and bury. And through all this, we are called to point to God rather than ourselves, working for God's Kingdom rather than our own fame or gain.

Many people have asked over the years how Wes and I would be able to pull off being pastors in two different denominations. Now that we have arrived at this new beginning, we have reached what seems to be the easiest part of this journey so far. We no longer have to navigate the challenging waters of candidacy, we no longer have to tread lightly while honoring our commitment to this family, and we no longer have to take turns so that one of us could work while the other studied, etc.

The most difficult part is--and always has been--spending Sunday mornings apart. Not only are we challenged to truly worship while also leading worship. We are also challenged by missing our spouses, by lacking joint experiences of worshipping God. We are bound together and yet stretched apart, responsible for our own congregations as well as juggling an almost three-year-old. I doubt this will get any easier. However, I look forward to continuing to navigate this path together.

Wes: Forgive me readers, for I have failed you. It's been... I don't even know how long since my last blog post.

But today's topic is well known. I feel like I've talked about this a lot, but I'm going to share with y'all a truth from my inmost being. If you don't feel like we are close enough for secret-sharing, then I have two things to say to you:

1. Why are you taking my confession if you won't allow me to confess?

2. Please stop reading here. The following is only for those close enough to allow me to secret-share all over the place.

I can only assume that, since you are still reading, you and I are the best of friends, and what I am writing will probably not be any big unveiling for you. We're best friends, so you already know all of the skeletons in my closet. (The ones I stole from the biology classroom!)

But here it is anyway. My secret. You see, I have been pursuing ordination in the United Methodist Church for a long time. Like the majority of my life, this has been my vocational goal. I have immersed myself in the life of the church, both local and connectional, joined (either by invitation or sheer force of will) different ministry teams and councils, endured a rigorous theological education to attain two pieces of card stock paper with my name and a degree written upon them (one of them in Latin!), and jumped through all of the fiery hoops of candidacy. And I'll be honest with you: my intentions were not always pure.

You see, clergy get special parking spots at hospitals.

That's right. I put myself through all the rigamarole of this process for a parking spot that might be a little bit closer than the public parking when I need to go visit people who are sick. Sure, most of them are my parishioners, and sure, I wouldn't need the parking spot if I had chosen a profession that didn't bring me to such a place on a regular basis, but that doesn't change the facts. And, included in the facts is the truth I have already stated in the above paragraph: special parking spots.

This might not be the only reason I felt that this was the calling for me, but it's somewhere up there. There was another reason as well, but then I found out that not all clergy get to wear Pope Hats. Apparently that's just... the Pope...

Oh well.

That's all the confessioning for now. Until next time, you stay classy, World Wide Web.


-jess and wes

Breaking the silence

Jess: So I already have a blog written about miscarriage. I expect to write many more over the years because it is an experience that just doesn’t go away. But I just found out that this week in National Infertility Awareness Week. So let’s talk about that.

There are all kinds of ways to be infertile. You can simply be unable to conceive, period. You might only be able to have a baby with the help of a surrogate. You might only be able to reproduce through IVF. You may already have one or three or six children but have been actively trying to have another and its just not happening. Or you can get pregnant (easily or otherwise) only to have one or three or six losses.

Ever since losing our second child in October, I have been on several boards dedicated to connecting people who have experienced losses in pregnancy. I don’t know where I would be without that kind of support. And yet I had to actively seek out that support

Why are we silent about fertility issues? We are overjoyed when we get to share in new life. Yet we don’t know what to say to those who want, but cannot seem to produce, their own children. We don’t know what to say when we find out that our friends have been trying for over a year and cannot get pregnant. We don’t know how to respond when we find out our neighbors will never have children of their own. And we certainly don’t know how to comfort those who become pregnant only to miscarry, or have a stillbirth.

Approximately half of all pregnancies end in miscarriage. At least one third of known pregnancies do not result in live children. This is not some rare disease or issue that affects a few people in every 100,000. It’s more common than the flu. And that’s not including those who are struggling with other infertility issues. When a loved one has the flu, we know how to respond: we are careful about our own hygiene, we bring them liquids, we allow them to rest.

How can we respond to those with infertility issues?

1) Listen. Listen if they want to share about infertility or not. Let them know that you are there. Sometimes talking about fertility challenges is impossible. I still get choked up talking about miscarriage. Listen to whatever they have to say.

2) Express your sympathy in writing. We received a handful of letters/notes from people after our miscarriage. Some people simply sent a gift with no note or reason. What a beautiful way to acknowledge our need for community and also our need for privacy.

3) Ask what the individual and family need. We have friends who had trouble conceiving who didn’t want to be around pregnant women. I cannot get enough of babies, even when I’m struggling with my own inability to have another. Figure out what they need and do your best to get it for them.

4) Continue to check in. My miscarriage was over six months ago. But the due date for that baby is only about 6 weeks away. I should be fat with child and miserable right now. Instead, I’m looking at June 15 with worry and sadness. Even when the due date passes, even if I get pregnant and have another child, the one who was supposed to be born on June 15, 2015 won’t be here. That date will feel much like the day my grandma died, or the day that I broke up with my high school boyfriend. The pain might ease with time but we will never get to know that child. For those struggling with infertility, each month without getting pregnant is a reminder. The pain is real and constant. Be there.

Wes: I don’t know much about anatomy and physiology. I don’t know really anything at all about biology. But I can honestly say that I know way too much about T.V.

Growing up, and even through college. I used to wonder why so many of my favorite shows had storylines at some point in their multi-season run that had something to do with having problems getting pregnant or with miscarriages. The one that comes to mind immediately is Scrubs. Turk and Carla try for so long to have a baby, and nothing seems to be happening the way it should. Carla wants Turk to be tested to see if something is wrong with his “swimmers”, but she wants to it secretly, because:

Carla is afraid that Turk will view a chanced infertility reading as an attack on his masculinity. And she’s right. He does:

Even Carla won’t talk about it with just anybody. She only broaches the subject with one person, her best friend. So embarrassing is this issue that it immediately makes one person feel like less of a man and the other feel like she has to act in secret.

And Scrubs is not alone in broaching this subject. Friends does it. Boy Meets World does it. Smallville. Lost.

The list goes on. And I couldn’t figure out why these shows would take airtime, budget, and entertainment risk to deal with such a… personal… and… rare… thing.

Then we miscarried.

And it was just awful. And in the midst of the pain, and in the midst of anger, and in the midst of the loss, I found myself thinking back to Turk, in his underwear, curled up in the fetal position on the bathroom floor. Rocking back and forth and questioning himself, the pain and the heartache present even in the midst of a comedy show.

And I can honestly say that I’ve never felt more thankful for courageous, real television.

There is a reason that these shows touch on such harsh, uncomfortable moments of life: because they are life. Problems of infertility and miscarriages are all around us. I am sure that if I were to take a blind survey of everyone in my community—and the people were to answer honestly—I would find that almost every family in Kyle has been impacted in some way by this issue, either personally or indirectly by someone close to them. I am sure that I would also find out that the majority of these families and individuals don’t talk about it at all, either because it is too painful, too embarrassing, or, more likely, a mixture of both.

But we have to talk about it. It’s life. And we are meant to live life in community. Strength is found in numbers, and by leaning upon the support and encouragement of others in our times of distress. Because the truth is that we are not alone in this pain, and it is time for us to stop acting as if we were.

Let’s learn a lesson from Scrubs. Let’s be courageous enough to talk about this, and find support in each other.

Lent, 2015 Edition

Jess: Lent is upon us. If you want to take two minutes to learn a little about Lent, here you go: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m3L3c23MfC0

As the video states, fasting is a big part of what Lent is about. In the Roman Catholic Church, this means no meat on Fridays. In some traditions, it means literally fasting on certain days, in particular Ash Wednesday and Good Friday. Many Christians have changed the meaning to fasting from something that holds an important place in their lives--chocolate, meat, swearing, judgment, etc. The point is to redirect our thoughts from those things that are not God. I have given up many things over Lent: junk food, TV, Facebook, etc. 

Increasingly, Wes and I have seen Lent as a way to establish good, faithful practices. During our marriage, we have...studied the Bible, gone through a marriage renewal book, established a Sabbath time, deliberately reduced our possessions, and refrained from spending money on non-essential items. Each of these practices was a recognition of how rich we are, how we are called to use our blessings to be a blessing to others, and to develop habits. Some of these habits have continued. There is still much work to be done, and we definitely have lapses. There are times when we find ourselves eating out several times a week; at this point, we reconsider what we are doing with what is God's. These practices remind us that we are stewards of everything God has given us. Nothing, not time, possessions, bodies, or even talents are ours--they are from God and are to be used for God's work. 

This year, I will be doing a combined Lenten discipline for the purpose of better using the time with which God has entrusted me. First, I will not be on Facebook until after James goes to sleep at night, if at all. I see Facebook as a great tool that has the potential to take over our lives. There is so much good that can come with interacting with others on social media--I have given and received advice, recipes, challenges, news, and much more. I want to hone in on that, rather than entertain myself with reading about other peoples' lives. 

Second, I will be consciously reinstating our Sabbath day on Saturday. This means no phones, no internet, and no homework. I won't be cleaning the house or doing laundry. Rather, I will focus on renewing my heart, mind, and soul and on being truly present with my family. The practice of Sabbath has been greatly beneficial to our lives. When I forget to practice Sabbath, I forget that six days is enough time in which to complete my work, and I start to convince myself that I need more and more time for work and less and less time for rest. 

Wes: Lent is a great time of prayer, study, and introspection. It is a reminder that from dust we came to dust we shall return. When used properly, it should work to refocus your life on Christ each year through intentional practices that may even continue after the season is over. 

This year, I am working to be more aware of how God has blessed my life with so many wonderful people. I am going to try to be more vocally grateful for this in general. As for a specific practice, I have decided to show my appreciation and gratefulness to God by writing a letter a day to different people from my past and present who have helped to make me the person that I am. There are many more than 40 of these people, so I am certain that some will be left out (so don’t get mad when you don’t get one). My hope in all of this, though, is to become a more outwardly-thankful person and to improve at telling people how much they mean to me and how my life is different because of them. 

I don’t have the greatest track record of keeping to my Lenten disciplines, but I’ll strive to stay on top of this one. For my sake, and for the sake of a God who has called me to engage all of creation with a thankful heart. 

So what are your plans for this Lenten season?

2014 Year-End Review

2014 was a year filled with activity in the Cain household. We started off the year with a bang, celebrating with friends and then going off to celebrate our anniversary. In late January, Jess’ dad had surgery, so the whole family traveled up to the frozen tundra of Michigan. James and Jess spent two weeks helping to take care of Papa while he recovered. Although it was freezing the entire time and Papa had some struggles, we mostly had a good time. Jess hasn’t spent that much time with her dad in a row since I was in high school and lived with him. It was great to have a chance to be with him, and we have promised ourselves that we will visit more often. Plus, James loves Papa because Papa spoils his grandson.

During the rest of the late winter/early spring, we fell back into our regular routines. Momma and Daddy worked Monday-Thursday as well as Sunday. We all went to TLC for church on Saturdays, which was a nice time to have as a family. Jess’ internship progressed well and moved into the second half of that year. James got to spend the days with his Uncle Corbin, who lived with us through the beginning of May. It was really great to have child care in our home, and there are times when we wish we would have the funds to do that in the future. We could schedule the days/times we actually needed care. See, two pastors don’t have two 9-5 schedules, much less two matching schedules. It was nice to have someone who could be there at 8 some days, 10 others, and in the evenings on still others. James loved Uncle Corbin and getting to stay at home.

The spring got hectic quickly as Easter approached. We each had multiple services each week, and Holy Week was so busy that we had to have Jess’ mom come out and help us. No one complained about extra time with Grandma/grandson, though! Between the two of us, we had 10 services from Thursday night through Sunday morning. Five were on Easter itself. On top of the craziness of the week, Wes’ church was struck by lightening on the Monday of Holy Week. We’re certainly looking forward to the chance to not do that this year, and hopefully deal with a little less electric fallout!

As the rush of Easter faded away, we moved on to the summer activities. Jess headed up a retreat at TLC for the young families It was such a success that they are planning a second one this year that will be bigger and better! Both churches had VBS, and Jess attended Confirmation and elementary camp. Wes went to Annual Conference, a giant church meeting that happens every June, and Jess attended Synod Assembly, the same thing in the ELCA. James started a new day care with a lovely woman named Diana. It was not as convenient as having a live-in nanny but James loved Miss Diana, too!

Then, in July, our college friends were dealt a pretty painful blow. Our friend (and former nanny) Corbin committed suicide; we have a wonderful group of close-knit friends from college. When we gather (like at New Years’ Eve), we have at least 15 people every time, and we consider all of these very close friends. They’re the first ones to find out about important life events like engagements, new jobs, babies, etc. We have been together through a lot of ups and downs for the last eight years. Losing one of our own was extremely hard. Even six months later, we are still reeling—and honestly the group will never be the same without Corbin’s wit and pop culture knowledge. He was a wonderful man and will be dearly missed.

As we moved back into “normal” life, the summer began to wind down. Jess finished her internship with great joy and great sadness. Although she is still glad to be home with James each day, working at TLC was wonderful. Her internship was a great asset to her future in ministry and has honestly made her spoiled in terms of working on a staff! Wes finished his first year of residence in ministry in July, and is plugging right along toward ordination. James was overjoyed to get to spend every day with Momma, although he still points out Miss Diana’s house when we drive by.

The last few months of the year were packed with activity, as well. Wes’ church is going full-steam ahead, Jess completed her second-to-last-semester of seminary, and James turned two! Although his newfound independence, rapid growth, and vast intelligence can all be challenging at times, he is a sweet-hearted boy. He is sympathetic to those around him, whether people or animals. He knows all his letters, can count almost to ten, knows how to break through any toddler-protection device and LOVES TRUCKS AND TRAINS! We are constantly amazed and overjoyed to be his parents.

The fall also brought some tough times. Jess’ great-uncle was diagnosed with prostate cancer (making the cancer count 2 in less than a year for Jess’ family) and will be undergoing surgery in February. We discovered Jess was pregnant in October, only to find out that she had miscarried a few weeks later. We were devastated and will lament the loss of this precious baby. There was a lot of travel and James’ patience got stretched a few times.

Overall, the Cains had an interesting year. It has been one of the most challenging for all of us, and perhaps the most difficult in some ways since our marriage. Yet through it we have also become a closer-knit family. We have cheered for Wes as he has passed milestones in his ministry and worked to become healthier. We have celebrated with Jess as she was approved for ordination and moves closer to finishing school. We have jumped for joy with James as he has learned to walk, talk, and be an ever more independent person. Life will continue to throw curveballs at us, but we know that through faith and with each other, we can persevere and thrive. What a wonderful time to be the Cains!

Why We Need the Christmas Spirit

Jess: On Thursday, we went to see the Trans-Siberian Orchestra (TSO). This is the second time Wes and I have had the opportunity to do this, and it was just as awesome as the last time. 

Many of you probably know that TSO's fame revolves around its Christmas music and "winter" (Christmas) tour. You might also know that I'm pretty bah-humbug about Christmas starting before Thanksgiving. Despite all of Wes' begging, I don't listen to Christmas music, put up decorations, or prepare for Christmas in any way until the weekend after Thanksgiving. Most of the time, that means the day or two before Advent begins, which is still a little early for me. 

But at the TSO concert, I had a Christmas epiphany. Suddenly I realized why people, despite complaints, want to put up their decorations, have a little snow, talk about presents, and plan gatherings earlier and earlier. We need Christmas spirit. We live in a pretty scary, messed up world. People are rude, mean, and downright cruel to each other. But something changes at Christmas. Now I'm not saying that everything magically gets better, but there is a magical quality of the Christmas season. People are different, and they stay that way until New Year's Day. We need Christmas. 

The problem is that the feelings, the happiness, the joy that we have at Christmas because of parties, food, and presents is artificial. It doesn't last. It can't last. And every year, it seems to wear off a little earlier. And every year, we want to get started on it earlier so that maybe everything will be alright in October and November as well as December. But singing "Frosty the Snowman" and "Baby it's Cold Outside" can only get us so far. 

That spark of Christmas spirit is great, but it's the message of Christmas, the story of Christ's incarnation that we really need. We need to know that God stepped into this world for us, and that God cares for us. We need to share this message with the world. Because the true joy of Christmas isn't (as the Grinch would say) isn't about ribbons or tags, packages boxes or bags! The joy of Christmas is that God birthed something new in the world--something that would save us from ourselves and bring us into right relationship with the Creator of all things. And THAT is a Spirit that sticks around!

Wes: Jess wrote her part of this blog about three weeks ago, and I’m just now getting around to writing mine. Usually, this leads to what Jess wrote needing to be tweaked just a little bit, because my laziness has meant that her post isn’t as relevant as it could be.

This time, though, I think the opposite it true.

This time, I think her words might be even more important, for very different reasons. You see, last night, a grand jury in Missouri decided not to indict a police officer on charges for the murder of a young man.

You know the story. It’s just about everywhere on the news right now.

And my Facebook home page seems to be split into three groups: those who don’t care at all about what happened, those who want to make sure that everyone knows why what happened was the absolute correct thing to have happened, and those who want to make sure that everyone knows just unjust a thing happened.

Wow, do we need Jesus.

We are living in an Advent world right now, one that is full of apathy, extremes, and brokenness. One that is unjust, painful, and desperately seeking salvation. One that needs Emmanuel.

And this is where the church must step in and be the Christmas spirit. Not the Walmart-branded, holly-jolly-sing-a-long spirit, but the spirit of joy that comes to a world in great need of it. In the midst of death, we need to hear again that unto us a child is born. In the midst of injustice, we need to be reminded that unto us a son is given.

We need more than Buzzfeed articles about the “12 Best Holiday Bacon Recipes”. We need more than heavily subjective editorials toting one side’s ideals over another’s. We need more than a social media. We need Jesus.

This is why I love Christmas, and I love Christmas music. I crave so badly the manger scene, the star in the sky, and the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes because I know how badly this world is craving it.

We crave it in places like Ferguson, MO.

And we as Christians have been called to prepare the way for Christmas. To make straight in the wildernesses of the world the paths of our Lord. In this Advent world, I pray we will engage in this task with love.

Because we need Jesus. We need Christmas.

O come, O come, Emmanuel.

Walking with James

Jess: James and I take a walk almost every single day. Sometimes we take several walks in the same day. And every walk goes the same way:

Me: "James, do you want to go to the (library, park, store...)?" 

James: Runs to the door and leaves. 

M: Quickly run out the door to stop James from fleeing without socks, shoes, or sunscreen. Wrestle James back into the garage and get these things on him. 

J: Runs out of the garage, but "patiently" waits at the end of the driveway.

M: Alright, let's go to the (previously determined location)!

J: Takes three steps, then, "TRUCK!!!!"

M: "A green pickup truck, that's right!"

J: Stops to pick up a stick, then proceeds to scrape the dirt out of every crack in the sidewalk for the rest of the walk. "BUS!"

M: That's right, a school bus!"

J: Wanders off the sidewalk into the grass, discovers it is wet and then gets mildly frustrated. "TRUCK!"

M: "A concrete mixer!"

The rest of the journey goes pretty much the same. Usually, it takes us 4-5 times as long to reach our destination as it would if I was by myself. Sometimes, when we finally make it to the park, James doesn't actually want to do anything there. 

Sometimes, I get frustrated with James when we're making these excruciatingly long journeys. But most days, when I think about how fast he is growing or about how precious he is, or just how much fun I have with him, I treasure our walks. This time is short. In fact, it's almost gone. One day, James will be in a rush just like the rest of us. I hope he'll occasionally stop to think like I do--"What in the world am I rushing for? This walk is the point. It's time to enjoy it."

Letter to Corbin

I regret that I will never be able to talk to you about T.V. shows anymore. I never told you, but I would silently refer to you as my own personal T.V. Guide. You knew when was on, if it would be worth watching, and could even schedule for me an entire evening’s worth of programming. I trusted my viewing pleasure to you implicitly. I regret that I will never have to feel shameful about watching guilty pleasure shows anymore, because you won’t be there to roll your eyes at me and remind me that there are so many better series I could be watching instead.

I regret that we didn’t spend more time together one-on-one. One of my most cherished memories of adulthood was us going to TJ’s Burgers in New Braunfels, eating lunch, then driving over an hour round-trip to and from my house to get tubes so we could then go float the Comal River. It was an unnecessary trip in the car, but our conversations and time spent catching up after years apart was just what I needed.

I regret that we will never again get to re-enact J.D.-and-Turk EEEAAGLE moments in crowded places. I will never forget the awkward, uncomfortable look on the faces of those two women who were trying to eat a nice, quiet meal outside in downtown Philly as you ran up and I lifted you above my head as if we were some figure-skating duet. Jess, Russell, and Mary-Ellen laughed so hard, and so did we.

I regret that your time living with Jess, James, and me was so short, and that there were so many tense moments as we tried to figure out how a single guy was supposed to share space with a family of three. All of us got annoyed and frustrated at different times, but it truly was a blessing having you play such a pivotal role in our lives, especially in James’ early life.

I regret that James, who loved his Uncle Corbin and had so much fun with you, has probably already forgotten you entirely. He will not have the chance to get to know you as a little boy, as a growing adolescent, and as a young man. You had such a strong influence in such an important developmental stage, but now you are gone from his life. I regret that this is true not only for my son, but for your true niece and nephew as well. They will never know their Uncle Corbin, and that is so, so sad, for you were absolutely worth knowing.

I regret that every time our group of friends gathers together, there will be a noticeable and impossible-to-ignore gap. You were a major part of our lives. Even though you chose to hold a supporting character role in most of our group functions, you were always there, and we will not be the same group without you.

I regret that, over a month removed from you taking your own life, I still feel guilt and shame. I regret that I didn’t do more to tell you that you were loved and needed. I regret that—as a trained pastoral counselor—I didn’t see any signs that you were this far gone. I regret that I didn’t do anything or say anything that could have stopped you from killing yourself. Even though I know this was no way my fault, I still feel that shame. I still find myself asking, “What should I have done?” I still wonder how it might have been different.

I regret that I am still so mad at you for doing this. Even in the midst of the shame and guilt, I also cannot help but still be angry. What you did was selfish. What you did feels cowardly. What you did shows a lack of hope that I do not want to believe you experienced. And what makes this so hard is that you were none of these things. You were one of the most selfless people I knew, and I don’t know of a single person who could honestly say you were at all cowardly. And to believe that you had lost all hope—in God, in your loved ones, and in yourself—is heartbreaking in and of itself.

I regret that so many of our friends are feeling this shame, guilt, and anger as well. I have read enough about survivor's guilt to know that it hits harder for those who encounter suicide than maybe any other type of death. There will always be the question of "What if?" that plays through our minds, and even though we will strive to remember you lovingly, the feeling of abandonment will be present with us forever. 

I regret that you felt like you couldn't seek help when any of us would have done anything for you. If you could only have known how loved you were, you might have realized that there was still hope, that there was still a reason to go on. If you could only have known how much we cared, maybe you would have said something to someone—anyone!—and maybe you would have received that help that you so obviously needed. You might have felt like it, but I can guarantee you that were not alone. We would have dropped anything to be there for you, and we would have done anything to help you find healing. 

I am thankful for the time we had together. I am thankful that you loved my son and treated him like family. I am thankful that for a few years at least, I had the blessing of calling you friend. I will miss you dearly, Corbin, as will Jess, Ryan, Russell, and the rest of our giant group of friends from TLU. I look forward to the day that I get to see you again, clothed in the glory of God and completely restored to wholeness. I sincerely hope that you have found in death the peace that you were missing in life, and I pray that God will reveal to you the impact you had on so many lives, mine included, in the short time you were with us.

I love you, my friend.

-w