Tracy's thoughts

January 2006

I went to the memorial service for Brian Niemeyer the other day and walked away with several observations that, to be honest, were quite challenging. Brian died in a tragic rafting accident while trying to rescue stranded rafters in December 2005. He was an acquaintance of mine whom I did not know real well. But we did share a common experience that allowed us to acknowledge one another when we saw the other person.

Let me stop for just a moment and say that I am continually amazed to me to see how God weaves people and experiences into our lives and teaches us lessons from these situations. It is truly humbling to experience God in that way.

OK, back to my story. About two years ago I first met Brian when he and I were working on a prop for a dance performance in which both of us had children. That prop was the stone table (the place where death was defeated by the Deeper Magic and Aslan came back to life) for the performance Adventures in Narnia. To make a long story short, let’s just say that the stone table required drilling for special fasteners so that a certain scene could be performed correctly. And let’s also say that the stone table had not been completed yet and, well, it needed to be done soon!! So he and I are drilling away as the show’s opening performance quickly approached. That’s right, we were racing the clock to get fasteners attached before the curtain went up and the prop was needed! In moments like these, people are often able to build friendships as they labor together for a common goal under stress. On that afternoon, Brian and I forged a relationship. To make a long story short, we completed the drilling and the stone table worked for the dance. The next year, they used the same stone table and Brian reinforced the original quick-fix job so that the fasteners were more solid. We talked about what he did and joked about our time together the previous year. That was the last time I conversed with him.

Fast forward now to January 14, 2006, and the memorial service for Brian’s life. I did not really know Brian like so many of the others did at the service. All I knew was that he was a humble, fun-loving guy with a great work ethic, and that we had a shared experience together. I also knew that close friends of mine were spending large amounts of time assisting and loving on the family as they went through unimaginable pain with his loss. I was present at the memorial service to show support for Brian’s family and my friends who were supporting his family. As many of you know, I have a tendency to show emotion from time to time. But as I entered the service on this day, I really did not feel like I would be overcome by emotion in this setting. Oh, did I have a lot yet to learn that day…

What followed was a maze of thoughts and convictions that poured through my head and was hard to capture and verbalize afterwards. Please bear with me as I try to describe what I learned that day.

We’ve all heard it several times before: When you die, what really mattered? What will people say about you at your memorial service? What will the pictures they show on the big screen communicate? What memories are left for family and friends? Judging by the testimonies and emotion I witnessed at Brian’s memorial service, I gathered that he left behind many wonderful memories. But during the service, I overheard a comment that struck me in an interesting way and really made me reconsider some preconceptions I had. For this comment is one I know I have thought before, and I’m sure many others have, too. I heard someone suggest Brian would say, “Don’t mourn for me.” Well, I don’t know what Brian would probably have said, but that comment left me unfulfilled—however I wasn’t sure why. During the rest of the service, several speakers talked of the hope we have in Jesus Christ to not only believe His will is ultimately good, but that He is able to help us through our pain, too. I believe these statements are true. I believe God’s grace is sufficient for us to work through any circumstances. And so I took these thoughts in stride and continued participating in the service.

And then we reached the slide show part of the program where pictures from his life were displayed. Beginning with his younger years and continuing to the present, the show depicted several wonderful images that appeared to be beautiful memories for he and his family and friends. It was at that this point that my attempts at restraining my emotions failed me, and I began to understand why the comment “Don’t mourn for me” did not sit quite right with me. Amidst the many pictures, I saw multiple images of wonderful family times. And at that moment, it became painfully apparent to me that future family pictures would not include Brian. For instance, there were still many experiences his daughters had yet to go through in their lives that I know they will wish their daddy was there to hold them, or stand by them, or just listen. Yes, I believe that we should not mourn for Brian – he is in a better place. However, I do not believe it is fair to say that phrase to his family, or for us not to mourn for his family. I mean let me be honest, how long will it take for me to forget the convictions I had as I left the memorial service about going home and hugging my kids and wife more, about spending more time wrestling with them, about reading more books with them, about not watching as much TV, about praying for them more, and about taking more pictures? Unfortunately, I know it won’t take too long. And this fact saddens me. But for Brian’s family, the fact that Brian is not coming home will be in front of them for the rest of their lives. It is ‘ok’ for them to mourn for Brian and grieve this massive lost. At the same time, I pray that we do not forget his family, or the ones we know of in our own lives experiencing pain, and fail to come along side them in the weeks, months, and years to come (or however long it takes).

As we move forward, I hope that we (the church universal, not just particular) can create an environment where we do not forget about those whose pain (mine too) continues on beyond our memories. It seems a shame to me if we were to let that happen to our own family members on our watch.

You might say, “I don’t know anyone in that position right now.” Maybe not. I would challenge you to keep your eyes open and be aware of those who do need love and compassion right now. I guarantee you they more often exist right in front of you than you may realize. Also, it does not matter if you are in grade school or retirement, there comes a time where we all need the support from one another. How you and I choose to come along side of each other in these times is what is important.

So where does that leave me today? I will always think of Brian when I see the stone table we worked on two years ago. I will remember the lessons I learned from his memorial service. I will remember that the stone table represents death defeated by the One true life giver. I will remember that we have the greatest hope ever in that One. And, most of all, I hope I remember to hug, snuggle, play, pray for, and tell the ones I love that I do on a more regular basis. Thank you for those lessons, Brian.