Kids grow up SO fast.
One minute – she’s “the little red-headed kid” – the next – she’s a young widow. We used to joke that “she doesn’t even have a name – we just call her ‘the little red-headed kid’, but we’ll have to come up with a name when she starts school. “ Her name, actually, was Jenny Lynn.
I remember my wife sitting at the piano one day laboriously “chording” a hymn, trying to get it to play. Jenny, 4 years old, was watching intently. My wife got up and walked away – Jenny slid onto the piano bench and looked up and down the keyboard. She placed her tiny fingers “just so” and played some notes that even I could tell belonged to an actual chord. Then she played the chord. Then she played the hymn. Just like that. THOUSANDS of piano recitals later (ok, slight exaggeration) I’m sitting in the Church fellowship hall where Jenny’s Home School High School Graduation is taking place, and once again, she’s playing the piano. My little red-headed kid is growing up.
I used to kid myself – Jenny doesn’t have boyfriends – she has “friend boys”. She didn’t “go on dates” – she just went to the same movie as the other guy and they shared popcorn. Friend boys came and went, but mostly went. She moved out to go to college, and got a job working at a Credit Union. A local Deputy Sheriff worked “security” in the lobby of the Credit Union, and he and Jenny became friends. Next thing I knew, Blake was showing up at family barbeques and holiday things. He was born in Vietnam and was adopted by an American family from an orphanage when he was 2. I was beginning to get the feeling that “this is the one”. (An interesting point, actually, to some of my fellow tWebbers who have accused me of being racist)
One day, Jenny came into my study and said “Dad – we need to talk”. Uh oh. She said “Blake wants to ask you something but he’s scared because you really intimidate him. (I do? This is GOOD!) She didn’t have to say it – I knew what Blake wanted to ask me. And I began plotting and conniving all kinds of ways to make it really difficult for him to ask. I wanted to make him even more uncomfortable than when I asked my wife’s dad for her hand. But I never anticipated how he would approach it. He was so incredibly humble and sincere. “Mr. S_________.... I would like to know if you would allow me to have your daughter’s hand in marriage” Wow. All my plans for making him miserable flew right out the window.
He genuinely loves my daughter – I could see it. So I went to plan B. I looked down at the ground, and thought for a minute, then looked back at him eye to eye, man to man. I said “I have just one question for you, Blake” He swallowed hard and said, “yes sir?” I paused again, then asked, “When I pass through your county on the way to Houston – can I speed?” With nervous laughter, he quickly replied, “Oh, YES SIR, No problem at all!!!!”
The plan was for them to get married the following year, in the spring of 2005. Jenny would complete her degree, and Blake would be finished with Sniper School. Then the dark clouds rolled in. In the Spring of 2004, Blake began having severe stomach pains and fever. He would double over in pain and be unable to stand up. He began losing weight quickly and always seemed to be cold. His American brother was a Doctor at Presbyterian Hospital in Dallas. Brent guided Blake through some exams and procedures where it was discovered that Blake had a rare form of cancer that seemed to be prevalent among Asian children.
Brent arranged for the best of surgeons to see Blake, and it was determined that Blake needed a surgery called a Whipple. The procedure, the most common operation for pancreatic cancer, involves removal of the pancreas, a portion of the stomach, the duodenum, common bile duct, gallbladder and surrounding lymph nodes. Blake was otherwise strong and healthy, and this procedure should eliminate the cancer. Radiation and Chemo followed, with the obligatory loss of hair, appetite, nausea. But Blake began to show improvement. He was getting better, and was heading into the Summer of 2004 with optimism.
Then the dark clouds turned into storms. Fever, night sweats… weight loss again – he had just started looking healthy. His brother, the doctor, came down to Houston to see him. I asked Brent, “what next?” Brent looked at the floor, then looked me in the eye and said “there is no ‘next’ – the whipple procedure was the cure”.
I’ll never forget the day Jenny, whimpering, asked me, “Dad – what do I do… do I NOT marry him because he’s going to die?” I told her “If you love him, and you still want to marry him, I would suggest SOONER rather than later.” The Wedding, which was going to be Spring 2005, was now moved up to November 2004. We had one month to put together a complete wedding… photographer, cake, gown, dresses, tuxes, reception… all the stuff that usually happens over a period of months if not a year. My Church helped – family pitched in… our family, Blake’s family… there WAS going to be a wedding!
I heard of a Cancer Treatment Center in Houston that did “unconventional” treatment. There were no other options, so I did some homework, and got Blake an appointment. I picked Blake up at his house – he was in severe pain, and had great difficulty walking. His stomach was very swollen from fluid buildup, and he eased himself into my truck. On the way to the hospital, Blake asked me “Mr. S______... if you were in my situation, what would you do?” Wow. I said, “Blake, there’s no way for me to know that, but I do know THIS… I’d make sure that I was right with God, and that I was at peace with Him.” Blake said “yes, sir, I’m ‘good’ there – I know when I die I’ll be in heaven.” We talked about that a little more before arriving at the hospital. Long story short, the doctors determined that the cancer was too far advanced, and the best they could do was make Blake more comfortable. Without going into gory detail, they drained nearly 3 liters of fluid from Blake’s abdomen, and sent him home with some pain medicine.
The wedding rehearsal was on a Friday night. Blake looked very pale and weak. I always walk “the couple” through “where to stand”, “how to come in”, this is the order we do things in… Somebody found a barstool on which Blake could prop himself up during the practice of “the ceremony”. I assigned one of Blake’s Deputy friends the job of standing near Blake, prepared to catch him if he fell, or prop him up if need be. Blake was DETERMINED to get married.
The wedding was awesome. The Church was beautiful. I had arranged for a Pastor friend to stand at the front while I walked Jenny down the Isle. When the wedding music stopped, my friend asked “Who takes this woman to be wed today” and I replied “her mother and I”. I handed Jenny off to Blake. He looked GREAT! He seemed to have rallied and was standing strong and tall.
As Blake took Jenny’s arm, I relieved my Pastor friend at the podium, and I became Jenny’s Pastor instead of her dad. I always begin the “public greeting” with the appropriate “Dearly Beloved…” then move onto “this is a joyous yet solemn occasion…” Solemn. (That comes later) I suppose the hardest part of the wedding – we had agreed to stick with the “traditional” vows… and as I led them in “til death do you part”, each, in turn, responded “til death do us part”. It was only the power of the Holy Spirit that allowed me to keep my composure and continue on… then I remember pronouncing them husband and wife… you may kiss the bride… “Ladies and Gentlemen – it gives me GREAT JOY to introduce to you Mr. and Mrs. Blake Curtis A________________” Fanfare, recessional, receiving line… reception… Blake rose to the occasion – smiles and strength – phenomenal. As you may be aware, Baptists are not real big on “dancing”, but there came the time in the evening of the reception that the “audience” called for “the first dance”. As I watched them gliding across the floor, I couldn’t help think – the first dance – the last dance. The “solemn” part was hitting home.
(to be continued)
One minute – she’s “the little red-headed kid” – the next – she’s a young widow. We used to joke that “she doesn’t even have a name – we just call her ‘the little red-headed kid’, but we’ll have to come up with a name when she starts school. “ Her name, actually, was Jenny Lynn.
I remember my wife sitting at the piano one day laboriously “chording” a hymn, trying to get it to play. Jenny, 4 years old, was watching intently. My wife got up and walked away – Jenny slid onto the piano bench and looked up and down the keyboard. She placed her tiny fingers “just so” and played some notes that even I could tell belonged to an actual chord. Then she played the chord. Then she played the hymn. Just like that. THOUSANDS of piano recitals later (ok, slight exaggeration) I’m sitting in the Church fellowship hall where Jenny’s Home School High School Graduation is taking place, and once again, she’s playing the piano. My little red-headed kid is growing up.
I used to kid myself – Jenny doesn’t have boyfriends – she has “friend boys”. She didn’t “go on dates” – she just went to the same movie as the other guy and they shared popcorn. Friend boys came and went, but mostly went. She moved out to go to college, and got a job working at a Credit Union. A local Deputy Sheriff worked “security” in the lobby of the Credit Union, and he and Jenny became friends. Next thing I knew, Blake was showing up at family barbeques and holiday things. He was born in Vietnam and was adopted by an American family from an orphanage when he was 2. I was beginning to get the feeling that “this is the one”. (An interesting point, actually, to some of my fellow tWebbers who have accused me of being racist)
One day, Jenny came into my study and said “Dad – we need to talk”. Uh oh. She said “Blake wants to ask you something but he’s scared because you really intimidate him. (I do? This is GOOD!) She didn’t have to say it – I knew what Blake wanted to ask me. And I began plotting and conniving all kinds of ways to make it really difficult for him to ask. I wanted to make him even more uncomfortable than when I asked my wife’s dad for her hand. But I never anticipated how he would approach it. He was so incredibly humble and sincere. “Mr. S_________.... I would like to know if you would allow me to have your daughter’s hand in marriage” Wow. All my plans for making him miserable flew right out the window.
He genuinely loves my daughter – I could see it. So I went to plan B. I looked down at the ground, and thought for a minute, then looked back at him eye to eye, man to man. I said “I have just one question for you, Blake” He swallowed hard and said, “yes sir?” I paused again, then asked, “When I pass through your county on the way to Houston – can I speed?” With nervous laughter, he quickly replied, “Oh, YES SIR, No problem at all!!!!”
The plan was for them to get married the following year, in the spring of 2005. Jenny would complete her degree, and Blake would be finished with Sniper School. Then the dark clouds rolled in. In the Spring of 2004, Blake began having severe stomach pains and fever. He would double over in pain and be unable to stand up. He began losing weight quickly and always seemed to be cold. His American brother was a Doctor at Presbyterian Hospital in Dallas. Brent guided Blake through some exams and procedures where it was discovered that Blake had a rare form of cancer that seemed to be prevalent among Asian children.
Brent arranged for the best of surgeons to see Blake, and it was determined that Blake needed a surgery called a Whipple. The procedure, the most common operation for pancreatic cancer, involves removal of the pancreas, a portion of the stomach, the duodenum, common bile duct, gallbladder and surrounding lymph nodes. Blake was otherwise strong and healthy, and this procedure should eliminate the cancer. Radiation and Chemo followed, with the obligatory loss of hair, appetite, nausea. But Blake began to show improvement. He was getting better, and was heading into the Summer of 2004 with optimism.
Then the dark clouds turned into storms. Fever, night sweats… weight loss again – he had just started looking healthy. His brother, the doctor, came down to Houston to see him. I asked Brent, “what next?” Brent looked at the floor, then looked me in the eye and said “there is no ‘next’ – the whipple procedure was the cure”.
I’ll never forget the day Jenny, whimpering, asked me, “Dad – what do I do… do I NOT marry him because he’s going to die?” I told her “If you love him, and you still want to marry him, I would suggest SOONER rather than later.” The Wedding, which was going to be Spring 2005, was now moved up to November 2004. We had one month to put together a complete wedding… photographer, cake, gown, dresses, tuxes, reception… all the stuff that usually happens over a period of months if not a year. My Church helped – family pitched in… our family, Blake’s family… there WAS going to be a wedding!
I heard of a Cancer Treatment Center in Houston that did “unconventional” treatment. There were no other options, so I did some homework, and got Blake an appointment. I picked Blake up at his house – he was in severe pain, and had great difficulty walking. His stomach was very swollen from fluid buildup, and he eased himself into my truck. On the way to the hospital, Blake asked me “Mr. S______... if you were in my situation, what would you do?” Wow. I said, “Blake, there’s no way for me to know that, but I do know THIS… I’d make sure that I was right with God, and that I was at peace with Him.” Blake said “yes, sir, I’m ‘good’ there – I know when I die I’ll be in heaven.” We talked about that a little more before arriving at the hospital. Long story short, the doctors determined that the cancer was too far advanced, and the best they could do was make Blake more comfortable. Without going into gory detail, they drained nearly 3 liters of fluid from Blake’s abdomen, and sent him home with some pain medicine.
The wedding rehearsal was on a Friday night. Blake looked very pale and weak. I always walk “the couple” through “where to stand”, “how to come in”, this is the order we do things in… Somebody found a barstool on which Blake could prop himself up during the practice of “the ceremony”. I assigned one of Blake’s Deputy friends the job of standing near Blake, prepared to catch him if he fell, or prop him up if need be. Blake was DETERMINED to get married.
The wedding was awesome. The Church was beautiful. I had arranged for a Pastor friend to stand at the front while I walked Jenny down the Isle. When the wedding music stopped, my friend asked “Who takes this woman to be wed today” and I replied “her mother and I”. I handed Jenny off to Blake. He looked GREAT! He seemed to have rallied and was standing strong and tall.
As Blake took Jenny’s arm, I relieved my Pastor friend at the podium, and I became Jenny’s Pastor instead of her dad. I always begin the “public greeting” with the appropriate “Dearly Beloved…” then move onto “this is a joyous yet solemn occasion…” Solemn. (That comes later) I suppose the hardest part of the wedding – we had agreed to stick with the “traditional” vows… and as I led them in “til death do you part”, each, in turn, responded “til death do us part”. It was only the power of the Holy Spirit that allowed me to keep my composure and continue on… then I remember pronouncing them husband and wife… you may kiss the bride… “Ladies and Gentlemen – it gives me GREAT JOY to introduce to you Mr. and Mrs. Blake Curtis A________________” Fanfare, recessional, receiving line… reception… Blake rose to the occasion – smiles and strength – phenomenal. As you may be aware, Baptists are not real big on “dancing”, but there came the time in the evening of the reception that the “audience” called for “the first dance”. As I watched them gliding across the floor, I couldn’t help think – the first dance – the last dance. The “solemn” part was hitting home.
(to be continued)
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