I Got To Be Bart Phillips' Big Brother!

10 years ago today, my little brother, Bart, was called home from this Earth by His Creator. I can't believe it's been ten years.

His three boys were 6, 8, and 10 when that moment came. Most of you know it was a brain aneurysm that ruptured and caused his death. Today, I want to look forward, not backward. Of course, there's no door shutting on the past...we remember it all. But here's the forward part: I want you to know that those three boys have absolutely thrived in the years since their Daddy passed.

I guess they're 16, 18, and 20 now or thereabout and each in his own way is seizing the day. Gabe is on fire at ORU, singing, songwriting, and learning to be a Pastor. Luke, talented keyboardist, had his gap year cut short, but made it to South America where his curiosity and joie de vivre brought a smile to everyone with whom he crossed paths during those few months. Stay tuned for his imprint on the world...it's coming. Nate excels in his high school musicals in Colorado Springs and can wail on lead guitar. (Plays lots of classic rock solos, so Uncle Wes digs that big time!) Lest you think that's all, our beloved Suzi , the boys' mom, met a guy named McCormack that we love and he brought another son, handsome Liam, into the mix - and then there were SIX! It is truly amazing how God takes our mourning and turns it into dancing - isn't it? (in His time, of course.) Yeah, it took awhile for us to accept this sad turn, but we decided to work on acceptance instead of persisting in our grief. I can't wait to see what unfolds as this story continues to be written. I miss you today, little brother, but I will see you again when I am called and I look forward to that sweet reunion with great anticipation. Thank you for the absolute blast we had growing up...and for being the aroma of Christ in our lives for the 40 years you were here! One of these days! ☺

This was a moment when we buried the cremated remains of our father just off the Rainbow Trail in Colorado.  My dad taught us to love the mountains and took us there all our life.  Thanks, Dad!  (Bart sporting his 'Superman' boots.  SO awesome they were!)

You Make Me Cry

I've noticed something recently.  I seem to be going along, scabbing over nicely, until one of you asks me how I'm doing...or how the family's doing.  In those moments, I feel a jolt of emotion connect all the way through my wiring, down to my heart in an instant...ZAP!  Then, when I begin to fumble for a way to answer on 'auto-pilot", trying to skirt the issue by repeating something rote I've been saying to a few people, I make eye contact with you and realize that you aren't going to accept a rehearsed, Sunday school answer from me on this.  You are asking because you REALLY WANT TO KNOW HOW I AM.  It's love...the kind we've been developing and growing for years together...and now you're asking for the REAL stuff.  I check my system resources and while that little flashlight is wagging back and forth trying to decide if the information you seek is indeed inside the heartfile you're polling, my little diagram pops up and shows that the CPU Usage is 100%.  Overtaxed.  I'm on overload.  I can no longer disseminate the info you seek without a quick reboot.  I am so shared out, so emotionally wrung out, ultimately I guess...left feeling numbed out, that I want to spare my heart the hit.  But because Don Phillips was my dad, (might as well blame it on him - he ain't here to speak for himself) I can't go there.  Not because I don't WANT to, mind you, I mean I CAN'T go there because I can't do it.  My autopilot quit working a few years ago when it didn't get used for awhile.  So, I stumble along these days - authentic and open to a fault - heck, I've cried in front of total strangers.  Yesterday, this guy I haven't seen in ten years stood there in the pouring rain in a parking lot and prayed for me...and it wasn't some short little cliche' prayer.  I mean, he put his strong hands on my shoulders with a grip that was almost scary and he proceeded to really PRAY for me...and it helped.  I think in that moment, I could feel that flashlight disappear, followed by the system resources screen showing that my strength bounced back up to about 90%.  And I walked away knowing I could live with the pain and loss for another day.  It was about 1 o'clock and I had a transfusion that would carry me through the afternoon and into the evening, where I met up with my home group, who stepped in and took over the supporting role.  Amazing.  The resources are YOU...God's gift to me and my family while we get to carry this grief. 

So how AM I doing?  Hmmm....God, you got anything?  OK, OK...here's a short answer:  I think I'm RIGHT where I'm supposed to be in this long, arduous process.  And for me, tonight, that is enough.  Thanks, God.  

Level 6 Adventures in the Life of a Grieving Big Brother

I felt better today - in general.  More like about a 6.  Does that mean it was a better day overall on a scale of 1 to 10, in the "how's my grieving coming along sweepstakes?"  Well, compared to the other day when I thought you were going to "flush" my blog for being so angry that I hollered at God, that's pretty good...cuz I'd give that day about a 3: 1 being the worst and 10 being the best...gauging a day in the life of a grieving big brother.  Hmmm...so why was today better?  Well, I have my hunches:  For the past couple of days, I've done something really good for myself.  Yesterday, at a big monthly celebration meeting, I stood up and received some accolades from a fellowship I love to be with for accomplishing something that this group of friends really likes to honor, and then hung around for the two dozen hugs that come with that moment.  (Actually...just between you and me, the BEST moment was when the big room cleared and one young, fairly "new" guy approached me and thanked me for my transparency...and told me that it "gave him permission" to be the same kind of "open" as I'd been when he looked at his own feelings of inadequacy and struggle.  Then I got a huge hug while he told me my favorite tie-dyed shirt was "killer" [and he meant it!] - and he's one of those young, hip, shirt-tail out, plaid pearl-button-wearing dudes from California that those young hot chicks REALLY dig.  I bet he has NO idea how good he made a 50-plus guy feel about himself in that moment.  I bet I looked like I won the lottery walkin' outta there!) 

Then, as if that was not enough, I did it again tonight.  Went to my favorite Monday night Men's Group that met at my buddy's brand spankin' new custom home, where, after a hot, delicious plate of Rudy's barbecue, I got to bawl and snort my way through an emotional check-in from my private grieving life...wide open and vulnerable to this safe, loving group of guys who KNOW my stuff stinks and STILL love me.  So, they listened to me pour out my heart and then proceeded to share their own stories of loss and pain...after which we prayed ourselves out, and then they hit me with a bunch of honest to goodness manhugs.  All the way from the "chest bump" to the "point n' go" to the "bro hug double back tap combo"...and these guys, they freakin' MEAN it.  If I said, "dude...I need you to come with me to my house, sit and watch Spike TV with me eatin' Funyuns and drinkin' YooHoo until midnight, then sleep in the extra bedroom, just in case I wake up sad, havin' a bad dream...they'd come do it...in a second.  And don't even GO there.  These are the kind of men's men who would kick your tail for even making a joke about someting as sacred as that...except they've all learned healthy boundaries now and would quickly "play the tape all the way to the end" and realize you aren't worth getting all wrapped around the axle for...and they'd blow you off.  These guys are my defenders.  They'd go to bat for me even if I had willfully gotten mySELF into some huge bind.  Because they LOVE me.  NO judgment allowed.  That's right, John Wayne!  Roll on over in your grave now, because I've got a whole pack of manly dudes who've GOT MY BACK...and they're not afraid to show it.  Hell, a handful of 'em shared a few tears with me tonight when I read my "randomly assigned" reading as it came my turn in the circle to read and the text discussed how we sometimes have a hard time with God when we lose someone we love and in trying to process it, find ourselves blaming God for it...even tho it's probably irrational.  (WHEW! That was a freakin' LOOONG run-on sentence.  Sorry, Miss Walker...you tried really hard...but now that I think about it, you're probably hanging out with my brother and my dad about now up there laughing about that sentence...so I'll retract the apology.  I might need it later for another infraction.)  Back to the "co-incidental reading topic deal".  I've got a question:  Are you going to stand there and call that a co-incidence that it was MY turn to read and that Grief and Loss just happened to be the subject matter in THAT paragraph?  I didn't think so.  (the chapter is about coming to believe in God...not "On Death and Dying")   It's called a GOD-incidence where we come from and it happens MORE frequently than you'd THINK it would.  Way to go, God.

So, I guess you could say me and God sorta worked a few things out since our little talk in the workshop on Sunday.  (Sounds like it, huh?)  Oh, I haven't told you about that deal yet?  Well, somehow in the process of repairing the laundry room door that goes over at my rent house, I was sanding down a blob of hardened wood substitute, preparing to drill out a new hole in the bottom of the door for a new spring loaded peg-thingy that holds the door on it's axis, I guess I slightly OVER-sanded the door during a rather intense GRIEF reaction and now the door is shorter than the other one.  However, because of the aforementioned grief-driven-I-don't-know-my-own-strength episode, I had enough gas left in the tank to even out the longer door...and now they match.  How nice.  I had never noticed the reluctant byproduct of mixing salty tears and sawdust together, but they do make kind of a weird paste that could probably be used to improve the planet somehow...but then, I'm one of those wackos that doesn't have the arrogance to think that I'm powerful enough to destroy one of God's most powerful, resilient, self-preserving objects of creation as this planet...but has the gall to think that Global Warming is a hoax, devised by some crooked, granola chompin' people who's sole aim and end in life is to suck in the largest pile of jack ever grifted by one group of yayhoos, while disguised as honest, caring, GREEN, planet-loving humans ever crammed into one corn-gas guzzlin' Toyota Prius.  But I digress. 

Perhaps I'll be given some "emotional leeway" in my grief as I occasionally skate over into a bit of self-justifying, somewhat judgmental, slightly prejudicial voicing of my political opinions...since we all know that I'm under stress and need to "vent" now and then.  So, thanks...and don't take it personally.  I'll let you do the same when it's your turn to grieve.  And believe you me...your time is coming.  Because this grief thing is NO respecter of persons....and it ain't for sissies.  It's comin' for all of us, like the locusts were comin' to all of those Egyptians while they defied God with their unbelief.  The good news is...if you're as lucky as me, God's gonna surround you with a group of loving, accepting, nurturing friends who have your back while you divert your gaze from your usual hyper-vigilant pursuit of happiness and joy in life...and who will hold you while you tend to your broken heart for awhile...until it mends.  And when He does and they do, you're gonna write over-the-top stories about it, and maybe even pump your score up to a 6 that day...because compared to those grueling level 3 days, a day spent feeling like a 6 is better than a quality first-run movie that lets you disappear into the characters and the story long enough to forget about your grief while you enjoy a huge Mr. Pibb and some of those Nibs ice cream deals that ring up at about a DOLLAR a NIB at your local multi-cinema.  But, hey...life is short...on a level 6-worthy day, shouldn't you just go ahead and eat your NIBS first?

Not tonight...God...not tonight...

OK...so my purpose in writing this blog was to work my way thru the emotions of the moment and discharge thoughts and feelings so that I will move through this in as healthy a way as possible. So, tonight, I ain't feelin' so spiritual and I ain't got nothin' happy to write. I just drove up in my driveway, pulled the mail from the rock mailbox a ways from the house and noticed I had a "sympathy card" in the pile of bills. I've gotten at least one of these a day for the past two weeks, it seems. Some days, I read your sympathies and your honest gut level condolences and I feel grateful to be loved and glad you're helping me bear my burden. NOT TONIGHT. Tonight I tore open the envelope and read the sentiment - quickly acknowledged it - and then realized my MOST prevalent thought in THIS moment is this: I don't want a bunch of F'in sympathy cards DAMMIT! I WANT MY LITTLE BROTHER BACK RIGHT NOW! I don't WANT to be the charity case for whom everyone feels sorry and pats on - NOT TONIGHT! I WANT BART BACK!!!!! He's MY brother....and it just AIN'T RIGHT that he's gone! Dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit D A M M I T ! ! ! ! This is supposed to happen to SOMEBODY ELSE...I don't care WHO! Just somebody else! I'm SICK of tellin' the story. I tell it so much, I've gotten freakin' GOOD AT IT! I can make it sound like I'm just molded right into God's plan...so neat and clean. Well it ain't NEAT and it ain't CLEAN!!! It's MESSY and UGLY and SAD and it SUCKS!!! I can't stop thinkin' about the boys and what they need...how young Suzi is and how unfair this all is. Is JUST ain't RIGHT!!!! God, are you LISTENIN'???? HELLOOOOOO?????!!!!! (If you stopped by hoping for some clean theological exposition that winds it's way around to happiness and resolution, I'm afraid you picked the wrong day to stop by. I'm all out of bows to put on top of this one. But I'll promise you this: I will always strive to be real here. I'm not going to shine you on. So, when you get lucky and it's one of those nights with clarity and encouragement and joy, then maybe you'll buy into it more readily...when it's coming from the same guy who's willing to tell you what he's really feeling. I hope so.)

I need some windshield wipers. I can't see the damned monitor thru the streaks on my eyeballs. I'm thinking about where Eugene Peterson translates Psalm 77: David is completely out of gas and torn up over his feeling of abandonment by God. In the process of his whinin' and spittin' and kickin', he writes, "Great! Just about the time I need Him, the High God goes out of business! Perfect!" I hear you, David. I hear you BIG TIME tonight. I have heard you LOTS of times when I was trying to accept what this Life throws at us on some days. Well, God, this one is JUST TOO BIG!!! I wish I could sound all spiritual and willing....but this is JUST too big.....tonight. I need to sleep....I need some Blue Bell...I need an embrace from somebody who knows...I need some water, I'm dehydrated from sitting at a football game...(so I could try and think about something else for awhile...it didn't work :( ) I need, I need, I need....I need my brother back. God, you got a miracle up your sleeve???