Normally I am not a screamer.

But on this day, I screamed.  And I didn’t stop for a long time.

It was several months after my son, David Glasser, who was a Phoenix Police Officer, was killed in the line of duty.  I remember sitting, staring off into the distance with my mind swirling with pain and grief and anger and confusion.  I don’t know how long I sat there but I know I gradually realized that I had been sitting there a significant amount of time.  And I didn’t feel like what I was doing was helping me deal with my shattered life and my broken heart.

So I thought about an article on grief that I had wanted to read and I eventually found it in a pile.  I am usually an organized person but those months right after Davey died were the most unorganized months of my life.  Nothing seemed to fit anywhere anymore so everything went into a pile.

I’m sorry I can’t tell you the title of this article or the author or where I found it.  This just shows you how well my brain was functioning back then.

One of the suggestions in the article for dealing with extreme grief was to try screaming.  After surviving a tragedy, we often have a lot of emotions that we keep all bottled up inside of us because everyone around us is also hurting and we don’t want to add to their struggle.

So we keep it inside where it fills us with pain, roars in our ears and keeps us awake at night.

The article suggested that screaming might help me get out my emotions and feel better.  I was ready to try just about anything.

They mentioned finding a time when I was alone – for obvious reasons.  I also needed to find a place where I could scream and not end up with the neighbors calling the cops.

Wow- I definitely needed to avoid that scenario.

I went in my closet but it was too small.  Don’t ask my why but I wanted to lay face down somewhere and scream into the floor.

So I laid down on the living room rug, closed my eyes and started screaming.  And I kept screaming.  I had the biggest pity party of my life – screaming my head of as I went through every negative and painful thought and feeling that was rolling around in my head.

I screamed a long time.  When I finally stopped I was exhausted and I had a sore throat.

And I felt lighter.  It felt good.

I got up on the couch and decided that this needed to be a turning point for me.  From then on, I was going to focus on life, not death.  From then on, I was going to be grateful for all I had while Davey was alive and all I still had.  My life was not going to be about what I had lost.

Davey was gone but, for some reason, I was still here.  So I needed to figure out what purpose God still had for me here and do it.

I have cried a million tears between then and now but no more screaming.  The swirling in my head gradually stopped, the stuff in the piles around my house found their place and I am slowly getting used to the hole – some days are harder than others.

I am so extremely grateful for the 34 years we had Davey.

Miss you, Davey.

Love you.

He had the heart of a warrior and

somewhere –

his heart is still beating.

My son, David Glasser, was a Phoenix Police Officer who was killed in the line of duty on May 18, 2016.  He was an organ donor.

Davey was only 34 years-old and in excellent physical condition when he was killed by a shot to his head.  He was able to donate all of his organs and his eyes and his skin.

The actual process of him donating wasn’t easy for me emotionally.  It was hard to say goodbye and walk out of the hospital when drugs were still making his heart beat and machines were making his lungs breath.  But there was no other option.  Davey wanted to be an organ donor so it happened.

As a result, a whole crowd of people are still walking on this earth because they received Davey’s life-giving donations.

And someone got the Heart of a Warrior.

It’s still beating.

This heart beats for justice.

It beats for integrity and honor.

It beats for courage and personal sacrifice.

And it beats strongly for loving God and loving each other.

I believe that each of us has our own Warrior’s Heart.  God gives us things we are passionate about – things that make our hearts beat faster.  We’re all different so these passions are different as well.

The issues that we really care about are the areas where we are supposed to stand up and do something helpful, something positive.

How do I make a difference in this world?

How do you make a difference?

One very easy way we can make a difference is sign up to be an organ donor like Davey.  I’ve done that. Have you?  Members of my family have received organs from other donors so we know what a huge blessing it is to people and their families.

Other ways to make a difference aren’t as easy but we need to figure out how to use our passions and our energy to have a positive effect on our world.  Don’t just talk about it – do it.  What do you get riled up about?  What angers you?  What frustrates you?  That is where your passion lies.  But we can’t let the anger and frustration take over – we have to use this energy for good.  To help.

One of the failures in our current culture is too many people are spending their precious time and resources standing against things and protesting against things.

But what are they standing for?  Their time and resources could be used to help people – used to make something good and positive happen.

It’s a choice.

I choose to help others look to God, especially in the current darkness of our culture.  I choose to support  justice and freedom in our country by standing for the Thin Blue Line between the evil and innocent.

My Warrior’s Heart beats for loving God and loving others.

A little over a year ago,  Joey Gase of Joey Gase Racing put Davey’s name, foundation and  picture on his car when he was racing in Phoenix.  How awesome!  Joey has a Warrior’s heart that beats for organ donation and he uses his very visible career to encourage everyone to sign up.

What does your Warrior’s Heart beat for?

What are you doing about it?

Miss you, Davey.

Love You.

There is a war going on in the streets of our cities. Your city streets. My city streets.

Our police officers are being ambushed and shot and injured and killed. I woke up to the shocking news on Friday morning that 5 Phoenix Police Officers had been shot!

5 officers shot! And 4 more injured. 9 officers! Unbelievable!

They were set up. They were targeted.

Just like my son, David Glasser, who was a Phoenix Police Officer was targeted on May 18, 2016. The young man who murdered him had texted that he was going to kill a police officer that day. And he did. He killed my son.

The good news this week is that all 5 of the Phoenix officers who were shot will recover.

But there is a lot of bad news. The bad news is that recovery for these officers will include various levels of pain and struggle for them and their families. The bad news is that 9 of our warriors were taken off the streets on the same day.

The bad news is the mental anguish all of these families went through when they got that call. The bad news is the mental fallout all of our officers and their families deal with when their brothers and sisters in blue are injured.

The bad news is that the streets of Phoenix are less safe than they were last week. This is happening everywhere as officers are injured and killed and staffing of Police Departments across the country continues to dwindle.

I am praying that – somehow – God will wake up our city officials and city councils. The war is real. The crazies that will put a baby in the middle of a gun fight to get what they want will always be out there – creating chaos and mayhem. Our decision – makers need to understand and support the fact that it is the brave men and women in blue that make our streets safe.

Well, our streets used to be safe.

Miss you, Davey.

Love you.

I hate sirens…because I know.

The sound of sirens makes my stomach churn.

It means members of my Blue Family are rushing to take care of business.  They are putting themselves at risk – not knowing what they are walking into.  Just like my son, David Glasser, a Phoenix Police Officer, didn’t know it would be his last call when he stepped out of his police car on May 18, 2016.

Sirens are a signal that all is not well in my world.

Sirens in the middle of the night are the worst.  When its pitch black and good people are asleep, those with darkness in their souls like to crawl out to do their evil deeds.

And so I pray.

I pray for my brothers and sisters in Blue.  I ask my Father God for wisdom for them.  I ask for courage.  I ask for protection.  And I ask that justice will be served as my Blue Family works to push back some of the evil in my community.

Sometimes these sirens are firefighters speeding through the streets with their sirens and lights.  These first responders are partnering with our Blue family in order to bring order to chaos and help people who are hurt.  I pray for them as the sirens wail through the dark night.

All the while, my stomach churns.  And I pray.

You, my dear brothers and sisters in Blue, are a very unusual breed of people.   You race through the night, in a hurry to take care of the crimes being committed by hateful people.

You run toward the gunfire.

You step into the middle of messes.  You move forward into the danger and are a human shield for others – even when they don’t like you or respect you.  You deal with the drugged liars and cheaters of our world every day, all day.

Meanwhile, the sirens scream through the night and my stomach churns.  And I pray for my Blue Family in uniform, trying to push away the fear.

The fear of what could be happening.

Fear for your wives and husbands.

Fear for your children and your babies.

Fear for your fathers and your mothers.

Fear for your families and friends.

Because I know the danger that accompanies those sirens.

I know what can happen.

The phone call.

The trip to the hospital.

The doctor’s unbelievable words.

And the nightmare.

So I pray.