I really thought blogging would be much easier than it really is. My purpose in this blog was all about therapy for me. Maybe, I thought, if I journal online and meet some friends along the way, that would be great. But, boy, is this tough. The tears just pour from my eyes.
My journaling about Joshua isn't coming along as fast as I hoped or thought that it would. I don't know whether to start at his birth or begin with his leaving us.
Neither is easy, and both beginning and end have regrets. I'll just tell you about Joshua for now.
He was 16, active in our youth group and played varsity basketball. He had a sweet girlfriend, Lana, who cheered.
So many of us bounce through life without ever finding our passion. Joshua had found his passion, even from an early age. Basketball, basketball, basketball! During the last few summers we had with him he went to many camps. Some were day camps and others were weekly camps. And then we had the Pete Maravich tapes that he would watch in the garage and then work on those drills.
Oh, to be able to sit in the bleachers and watch him guide the ball down the court, through traffic, pop back out to the point, dribble between his legs, head fake, and then pass for an assist!
HIs jersey number was 22. He was killed on route 22.
May my prayer be set before you like incense, may the lifting up of my hands be like the evening sacrifice. Psalm 141:2