I'm pretty sure one never completely recovers from the death of a child. I'm not even sure if recovers is really the right word. Perhaps continues is the word I'm searching for. That seems like a better sentiment on what happens after a child is taken out of your life. It has been two years since eight year old Trevor's death. Trevor, a second-grade student of mine, was killed in a car accident that snowy day in late March of 2007. His aunt, who was 28 (the same age I was at the time of the accident) was killed in the same horrific crash.
I had been preparing for my normal Thursday morning choir when a disoriented looking man was trying to find someone to talk to in the front office. I asked him how I could help, and he proceeded to inform me that his son had been killed in an accident, and he wasn't quite sure what to do next. I asked him who his son was, and he tells me it's Trevor.
Our Trevor. Eight year old Trevor. I was hit with a stunning numbness, methodically taking down his name, what details he had to offer, his contact information, things like that. After a quick embrace and what I'm sure was a weak attempt at words of comfort on my part, he left to attend to his family.
I was left alone in the school office - alone with the information that
broke my heart. For what seemed to be an eternity, I stood in that empty office - unable to move or return to my waiting choir. I just stood there, knowing Trevor wouldn't be coming to school today. Or tomorrow. Knowing his classmates would never see him again. Not knowing quite what to do. Just crying.
As the office ladies began to file in, I told them what had just happened. I looked across the hall to my overflowing room of choir children - over 80 children, all around the age of 8 themselves, just wanting to sing. I couldn't just stand there staring - I had to go to them. I knew there would be crisis teams from the school district put into place throughout the day, and they would know what to say to the kids. I had to act as normal as possible. Everything they did made me cry that morning. I smiled and told them it was tears of joy, which for the most part, it was.
They could do no wrong that day.Trevor's grandmother contacted me, and asked if I would play the music for his and Kelly's funeral. I had done so many funerals in the past, yet most of them were for older adults. A child? I had only played for a child's funeral once before, and that had just about done me in. Yet, here was his grandmother - a woman who had just lost a daughter and a grandson - asking for help at the church service.
My answer was an instant yes.Allison (Trevor's second grade teacher) and I drove the 3 hours to Gunnison where the funeral was to be held. I remember driving around a corner, and having the town appear between the mountains. It was like being in another world altogether. I would not be exaggerating when saying the entire town showed up for that funeral. Trevor's relatives are key players in the town of Gunnison, and everyone there felt this loss. Allison and I entered the church, said our quick hellos to the family, and I headed to the piano. The pastor and I had worked out which hymns to play when. I'm not quite sure how, but I sang "It Is Well" during the unbelievably packed service, along with many other family-requested hymns.
The presence of God in that gathering was overwhelming.I have always been a person that is able to distinguish the difference between body and spirit. Meaning, I know that when a person dies, their
spirit goes to Heaven, and what's left behind is their ph
ysical
body. Trust me, that makes the funeral process much more bearable. That being said, I think the one thing that made the service a bit less painful was the fact that the caskets were the same size. Two white caskets of equal length. I know that might seem like a small detail, but there is nothing more aching than seeing a child's casket. I also keep this difference between body and spirit in mind when at the graveside. Without that difference, I would never had been able to drive away from Gunnison, and leave a child behind, buried in the frozen ground.
So many moments are etched in my memory of that day: the slideshow of Trevor and his aunt, the physically and emotionally injured family members who were also in the crash sitting in the front pew of the church, watching some of my own second grade students placing roses on the caskets and saying goodbye, seeing kids just be kids at the luncheon, the conversations with a then-pregnant Allison that will forever bond me to her.
Trevor's grandmother sent me the most personal of thank you notes a week after the funeral. I had told her a story about Trevor was always popping up in my classroom window, and waving hello to me on his way to the gym. She mentioned how many times she had gone back to that story during the week, and how it had made her smile. She also said how much she was comforted by the music during the service, and how she would forever feel a connection to me.
I know that the music at the service was both my way to grieve, and to celebrate the life of a little boy. It was my way of saying goodbye.
I think of Trevor often. I watch his classmates growing up without him. I think of the one year old son his aunt left behind.
I also think of Easter. I'm certain this tragedy occurred during Easter to remind me of the power of the Resurrection. The death of a child would be unthinkable if it weren't for the thought that Trevor and his aunt were safe with God. This was one of the most intense, faith-forming moments of my life, and as Easter approaches, I can think of Trevor and smile.
Mr. Plow, finding the sidewalks again. And again.
Rather picturesque, wouldn't you say? Cold, yet quaint.
Twilight picture of a Plum Creek Parkway in Castle Rock.
The Brendamobile, unearthed.
Free at last! My little car could now escape! DRIVE!
I have some fun tambourines/percussion instruments in my classroom. Apparently, this one wanted to look just like its one-eyed owner. It broke in the classroom, and the kids though it was absolutely hysterical. First graders are so easily amused!
In yet another moment of classroom excitement, the 528-pound upright piano decided to release one of its base wheel sets. My über strong 5th graders and I guided the injured piano to a nearby corner, where it sits, resting pathetically out of commission. At least it didn't fall flat on top of me this time...you've seen enough X-rays for one week!
"Say hello to my little...pedometer." Accelerometer, to be more accurate. It clips onto my shoe, and uploads all my movement and activity to a health and wellness website in my school district. I sure hope it can keep up with me!
Here is my view of my little 2nd grade friends, peeking from the top of our (at that time) still functioning piano.
Introducing Calvin Dunn, the babe of a high school pal.
Mr. Robin, enjoying some quiet time last Sunday. 
I'd like to think that this was the same little bird,
So, I'm at home, icing my brilliant injury. I am thrilled that I didn't need to be casted or put into a splint. Still, that didn't make typing this blog entry with one hand any easier!
Palm Sunday services allowed congregation members to take a quick study of the 14 stations of the cross. The stations were brought to life by the needlepoint group at my church. I so enjoyed the service, that I attended both the 8:00 and 9:00 am services, thus the two palm branches!
Good Friday set the true tone for the coming of Easter, and the stripping of the altar was a powerful experience. To lose both light and the visual decor was a reminder of why this was such a commanding day in history. It was great to meet Marie's mother, who attended 
this solemn evening service. Both the cellist from Ash Wednesday and Bethany's Chancel Choir added their skill and artistry to the night.
What wonderful music - The Aries Brass Quintet played Mozart's Alleluia with speed and precision, a truly wonderful prelude to what would be a musical morning. The church was PACKED, as in 'everyone, please move to the center of the aisle' kind of packed.
Bethany's choir again added to the musical ambiance.
For those of you who might have missed this exquisite anthem, here are the words:
I had been preparing for my normal Thursday morning choir when a disoriented looking man was trying to find someone to talk to in the front office. I asked him how I could help, and he proceeded to inform me that his son had been killed in an accident, and he wasn't quite sure what to do next. I asked him who his son was, and he tells me it's Trevor. Our Trevor. Eight year old Trevor. I was hit with a stunning numbness, methodically taking down his name, what details he had to offer, his contact information, things like that. After a quick embrace and what I'm sure was a weak attempt at words of comfort on my part, he left to attend to his family.
ysical body. Trust me, that makes the funeral process much more bearable. That being said, I think the one thing that made the service a bit less painful was the fact that the caskets were the same size. Two white caskets of equal length. I know that might seem like a small detail, but there is nothing more aching than seeing a child's casket. I also keep this difference between body and spirit in mind when at the graveside. Without that difference, I would never had been able to drive away from Gunnison, and leave a child behind, buried in the frozen ground.
My kids and I had some GREAT conversations during the day about what it means to go to college, whether or not you have to go to college, and what to do after college.
The sweetest moments came with my first graders, who shared what they thought college would teach them, and what they would be when they grew up:
I'm really glad tomorrow is April 2nd. I don't particularly enjoy the first of April, other than to remember that it was the first day of piano lessons! THAT is a good thing! Mom checked on the exact year I began lessons with my next-door neighbor: 1986. Wow! That's 23 years of serious piano playing, although I certainly sat down at the piano before the age of 7 (see photo on the right, circa 1980). I can honestly say I play the piano everyday - not just because it's a part of my job, but because it is such a passion of mine. I adore the piano! It is by far my very favorite instrument - versatile, expressive, comforting. Yeah, piano!
Oh! Allison is back in BlogLand, too! She posted a video of her daughter making her son laugh! There is something so WONDERFUL about listening to pure joy! Look at the eyes on these two! Yeah, Zelems!
Well, we are on Day 2 of no school - isn't snowy Castle Rock quite the sight!? I did get some time in on the elliptical, which always makes me feel better. Nothing like walking and striding to Bon Jovi to start your morning! I went outside after that to dig out my car - not too bad. Ended up shoveling the sidewalk of our apartment complex, too. I had energy to spare!
harps.
Oh, I can count the number of people who are going to think I made a spelling error on my blog title today. No worries - it's only a play on words!
Castle Rock at 9:30 am
Castle Rock at 12:00 pm
Castle Rock at 5:30 pm
...keeps Brenda really, really happy! I came home tonight to a caramel apple in the fridge! The Herrells left me a happy surprise upon returning from their trip to Estes Park! WOOHOO!
Yesterday at church, we dedicated 500 new Bibles that were given as memorials in honor and memory of Arnie and Melba, Pearl and Janet. These were four faithful people who died this past year. Their families were willing to direct the memorials so that we might be renewed, a people who are all about Bible Book of Faith.
rking my tail off, putting the finishing touches on the yearbook. There are over 100 additional candid photos in this year's book, so it's taken a bit longer to digitally assemble than usual. The company, however, has been amazing, and their speedy online software has allowed three people to work on the book at once. Nicola and Kelly were my partners in crime this year, and they were awesome!
ll those pictures were uploading this afternoon, I decided my still-living fish deserved a clean bowl. I was completely done with the first bowl, and had just about completed the second, when I scraped my middle finger on some raised bump of glass at the bottom of the bowl. Big ole gash. Lots of blood. For a moment, I wondered if I should be driving myself to Sky Ridge, my friendly local hospital. Thankfully, it finally stopped bleeding, and while I certainly had enough strength left to grab the camera (you can see the vertical slice - it's almost 3/4 of an inch! OUCH!), you could use the gash in my middle finger as a puppet! Ugh!
enver Center for the Performing Arts. It was my 30th birthday present from the fam, and we had a great time! The costumes were intricately detailed and full of color, and the voice of the Phantom (John Cudia) was pure gold. He captured every moment on stage - a first-rate performance!
EXACTLY. I have been in this state of faith for the last week. I heard a Bon Jovi song while walking the other day, and I couldn't help but think of it in broader, more theological terms. The text of the refrain has been running through my head:
