An Open
Letter to the Linnons
Dear
Brion and Erin,
You don’t
know me, but I have been praying for you since last Saturday.
The blog
writing I do each day has been difficult all week because this letter was
rolling around in my head. Thoughts and prayers that just couldn’t find appropriate
words.
The truth
is, there are no appropriate words. Not now. Not from anyone.
I believe
it is safe to say there are a few thousand people in the Butler area who would
echo the following thoughts.
Many of
us have never met either of you, but we have learned in the past week that our
circle of friends crosses yours. There is certainly less than six degrees of
separation. That is true of most people in Butler and it is one of the great
things about living here. There is a sense of community that draws us together
in a time of need.
Most of
us don’t know how you feel. We can’t. You will understand when we say we are
grateful for that. But we do wish we could help.
We live
in a society that finds grief to be uncomfortable. We’re often not sure what to
say or do. We may choose silence over saying the wrong thing. Or, from
well-meaning but unknowing hearts, we may say something insensitive. Please
understand all of it comes from a place of kindness.
One of
the best and most difficult aspects of life is, simply, that it goes on. The sun still comes up, the Earth still spins
in orbit, most of us return to our routines. On days when the truth of that is
overwhelming and you don’t want to take your head off the pillow, we pray you
will think about the outpouring of love and respect for Ethan at school, at
different sporting events, on social media.
It surely
wasn’t unexpected – you already knew what a special young man he is.
You may,
however, be surprised by how this wave of love has touched so many of us who
don’t know you and never met Ethan. The influence he had will continue to ripple
in the lives of everyone he touched, and everyone they touch. It is not an exaggeration
to say you won’t fully know how Ethan changed this world until you see him
again.
And we
know that may feel like little consolation today, when life looks almost
nothing like it did a week ago.
So we continue
to pray. For both of you, for Connor, for Hannah and Nicole, for everyone who
will miss the effervescent presence of Ethan Alexander Linnon. We pray you will take comfort in the promise of salvation and the assurance of eternity together. We pray you will feel God holding you close to Him and close to each other. We pray you will, even through tears, see Ethan every day in both expected and surprising ways.
And we
ask God to remind us – in a few weeks or a few months – to lift you up again. And
again.
Many of
us don’t know you. Most of us can't know how you feel.
So we do
what we can, which is send love and prayers. And we want you to know that
#ButlerStrong is a sentiment we also share.
May God
bless and comfort you.
I
am participating in Write 31 Days. Click here to read more about it and see the other amazing
bloggers.
You
can see earlier entries below this blog or in the sidebar under 2015.
Beth Painter is, among many other things, a
writer and motivational speaker. You can follow her on Facebook on the
“Think Big focus small” page.
Beth is available to speak to your group about
how to make your dreams and desires come to life!
2 comments:
Very touching.
This is so well written. Having worked as a pediatric oncology nurse, I've seen more heartbreak for others than I care to think about sometimes. I wish I'd had a letter like this to slip into the pockets of parents, when thy weren't looking, for them to find and read when they were ready.
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