A Permanent Mark

There is a commitment.

Love leaves a mark.

The cost is being more concerned about another person than you are about yourself.  What I want is not the most important thing when I love someone.

Commitment means loving this person even when they are unlovable.  Sometimes it means offering help and other times it means drawing helpful boundaries.

Loving someone well takes a lot of energy and patience, wisdom and understanding.  Loving people well is a lot of work.  And it leaves a mark.

I have discovered that this mark doesn’t go away after someone we love dies.  This mark is permanent and never leaves us.

David Glasser, my son, was a Phoenix Police Officer who was killed in the line of duty on May 18, 2016.  The mark he left was an unusual kind of love.  It was an outspoken love – a love that broke down some of the walls that we have built as adults.  He said ‘love you’ often and you knew he meant it by how he included you and had fun with you and was loyal to you.  You knew there was a commitment being made when he said ‘love you”,

It wasn’t just something he said.

The mark he has left on us is big.  We are discovering how big as we continue to love each other in more obvious ways.  More hugs.  More caring.  Saying it and showing it.

The cost is giving up some of our ‘separateness’ and privacy by actually caring for people around us.  The cost is taking our eyes off of ourselves long enough to see someone else that needs a hug or a hand.  The cost is letting others love us, knowing that this love will leave a mark.  It will change us.

The commitment is not giving up even when its tough or strange or even a little weird.  Yes, weird.  If you’ve been really trying to love others, you know what I mean.  The commitment is setting love as a priority and letting go of other things that we always used to think were important.

If I were to draw a picture of the mark Davey has left on us, it would not be a heart.  It would be a magic wand.  Because I have discovered that love has magical qualities that cannot be explained.

Love changes things.  It has a supernatural power that comes straight from God.  Love brings light into the darkness.  Love soothes pain and sadness and loneliness.

Love really can change the world.

Thank you for the permanent mark of love you have left on our lives, Davey.

Miss you.

#8144loveyou

His Voice

I would recognize it anywhere.

Last week a memory came up on my Facebook page from 5 years ago.  Davey had made a video of his son sharing what he learned in Children’s Church that Sunday.  Adding arm gestures, 4 year-old Micah said, “God loves me.”  Watching the video, I was just starting to smile when I heard Davey’s voice come onto the video, encouraging Micah.

I wasn’t prepared.

The tears started instantly.

I would recognize that voice anywhere.

David Glasser was a Phoenix Police Officer who was killed in the line of duty on May 18, 2016.  Almost 4 years ago.  At times like these, it feels like yesterday.  If you knew Davey or were at his funeral, you know he is in heaven today.  He put his faith in Jesus and he wasn’t shy about sharing that with other people.

God leaves out a lot of details in the Bible about how heaven works.  He mentions streets of gold, mansions and crowns but I think he used those descriptions because those are things we can relate to and understand.  I think heaven is going to be indescribably better than that.

God gives us a glimpse of what our bodies might be like in heaven when we read about Jesus after his resurrection.  Jesus ate, he walked through walls, and he just ‘appeared’ places.  People didn’t recognize him right away….. but then they did a double-take and knew who he was.

I know that we have each been uniquely designed by our Father God and we reflect different aspects of who he is.  I believe we will take the good parts of that ‘personality’ into heaven with us.

I believe that – someday when I get to my ‘forever home’ in heaven – I will hear his voice again.  Davey’s voice.  I might not recognize him right away but I will instantly know who he is because of that voice.

Davey is there already.

Someday I’ll join him.

Miss you, Davey.

#8144loveyou

His Final Words

I am painfully reminded almost every day how short life can be.  How quickly things change – permanently.

My son, David Glasser, was a Phoenix Police officer who was killed almost 3 1/2 years ago.  He was doing his job just like he had done every day for 12 years.  But on May 18, 2016, his life ended.

The worst happened.

Those of us who were left behind will never be the same.  Our worlds blew up and the emotional fall-out continues.  Every time I visit Davey’s spot in the cemetery, I am reminded of  all the families whose heroes are buried in the same area and are on this painful journey with us.  We’re drowning in a ocean of tears waking up each day to an unforgettable hole.

It’s a struggle.  Some of my steps moving forward really hurt.

If you’ve been reading this blog, you know that the last thing Davey said to everyone that he cared about was “love you”.  He even said it to his squad members and waited until they said it back.  It has been such a blessing for us to have that last ‘love you’ echoing through our heads as we deal with the grief and loss of Davey’s death.

If you have been reading this blog, you also know that one of the things I wish Davey had done was write me a letter.  It would be something I could get out to read over and over again on the dark days when I need some encouragement.  Because of this, I have now written letters to everyone who is dear to me in my life and I plan to update them every ten years or so if I stay on this planet for a while longer.

I know Davey loved me.  He and I thought alike so we didn’t have to say a lot to communicate how we felt about each other.  Now, I would really love to have some of that written down in a letter.

So imagine my amazement when I was recently searching through our small document safe that holds our important ‘stuff’ and I found an envelope with Davey’s handwriting on the outside.  In the envelope is a list written in Davey’s handwriting.  The bottom of the page says, “Sunday School 1999.”

He was 18 years-old.

He had written what he thought his life would be like “40 years from now”.  He gave a couple of options of what he wanted as a career and one of them was ‘police officer’.  He described the woman he would marry, how many kids he wanted, and his desire to continue to grow his relationship with God and be active in a church family.

It’s amazing to me that I kept this.  It’s definitely a God-thing. I’m an anti-hoarder so I’m very selective of the things I choose to keep. The number of old things I’m willing to move and store goes down as the years progress.

I shared the list Davey had written with my husband and Kristen because this is as close to a letter as we’re going to get.

I have discovered that this list encourages me.  It reminds me of Davey and sparks great memories of how his eyes would light up when he talked about his plans and dreams.

He didn’t have 40 more years.  But reading this list makes me so grateful that we took full advantage of the 16 more years he had at the point when he wrote this.  No regrets.  We had 34 awesome years with him here on earth and that’s going to have to be enough until we see him again in heaven.

Thank you for the letter, Davey.

Miss you.

#8144loveyou

Look Up!!

What am I thinking about?

What am I focused on?

I ask these questions when I find myself in a dark place.

When I’m sad.

When I’m stuck in yesterday.

When the list of what I have lost seems way too long.

When my shattered dreams fill my head as the tears drip down my face.

David Glasser, my son, was a Phoenix Police Officer who was killed in the line of duty on May 18, 2016.  Those of you who knew him realized that he was unique – he had a high level of integrity and knowledge of what was right and wrong and he also loved people and loved to have fun.  My husband and I lived 1 1/2 miles away from Davey so we got to spend a lot of time with him and his family.

And suddenly – without warning – Davey was gone.

Every day, I am reminded of just how much of the light and joy in my life went with him.

On Davey’s birthday, a group of his family and friends visited his spot in the cemetery and released balloons into the sky.  This is a very old tradition reaching back to biblical times when incense was burned so it could combine with the prayers of God’s people as they floated up to heaven.

As I remember watching our balloons covered with messages of love rise high into the sky and finally disappear, I realize that this is what I need to do.  Look up.  And I invite those of who have experienced a huge loss in your life to join me.

I’m going to Look Up –

Look up to see the sun shining on all of my blessings that are still here.

Look up to remember how important messages of love and encouragement are to those of us left behind.

Look up to remember that my prayers – our prayers – go to a God who loves us and who wants the best for us and who can do the impossible.

As 2020 begins, let’s Look Up together to see all the possibilities a brand new year can bring.

Miss you, Davey.

#8144loveyou