Willy Wonka and the Holy Spirit

Many friends posted about Gene Wilder after he passed last week. I loved these reflections, because Wilder was pure genius. His spirit moved many of us through the humor and humanity of his great characters. My favorite was Willy Wonka.

Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory contained many great literary allusions (http://www.kentonlarsen.com/2012/08/the-literary-allusions-of-willy-wonka.html) lines from Shakespeare’s plays and other great works. One of Wonka’s lines, taken from Romeo & Juliet, is a favorite:

“Adieu, adieu. Parting is such sweet sorrow.”

Processing loss or life's inevitable pain can be one helluva task. Maybe it's the death of a loved one, bitter divorce or an ended relationship, career disappointment or someone just being a persistent horse's ass. The processing pattern is similar – realization, grief, acceptance. What’s ahead is what we make of it … Is it entrenchment, blame or resentment? Real movement? Will we trust or try again? What will we own? Is joy on the horizon? Will it be some combination?

I was at my cousin Ginny’s beautiful wedding last night. We felt joy for Ginny and her handsome husband Michael. I saw Michael’s eyes honoring Ginny as my Uncle Doug escorted her down the aisle. I remembered that feeling of complete trusting, faithful love, at my wedding and in my marriage. Tears of joy combined with tears of sadness for their new beginning and from an old loss. Before establishing their holy matrimony, Father Mike said this Irish Prayer: “May you live to comb the hair of your children’s children,” beautiful words that evoked a variety of emotions.

This year has been full of significant change and movement. Loss made an appearance again. Lately, acceptance has been on a roll. What does life look like? I’m getting ready to move into a new house. The clutter in my house is gone. My mind is clear, too. The focus is on what I have learned, not on what I cannot or couldn’t control, with great appreciation for love that was and continues around me.

Life isn't always easy, but it is good! My vibrant, sassy daughter is off to a great start in college. My son is an engaged, inquisitive young man, handsome and easy to be around. A family member who I thought might not trust and love again is experiencing tremendous joy in a relationship. Another has loosened the grip on the rope of resentment. How do such good things come about, after great losses? Serendipitously? Maybe. Or maybe it’s something else.

Some turn to Him, and do better than most. Some turn away, and struggle more than others. Dori didn’t turn away. She turned to Him. My immediate family learned this, on our own time, but we certainly learned not to harbor resentment after loss.

After the doctors in Houston told Dori she had little time, she struggled mightily. Both of us prayed for acceptance and peace. When we came back to Nashville, she struggled with how to tell our children. “What am I going to tell Kathryn and Will?” she asked. “It will come to you, love.”

When she told two innocent, precious souls she was going to die soon, they listened in shock. Then she said she didn’t understand God’s plan, then this:

“Every day, say the Lord’s Prayer. When you say “Thy Will Be Done,” you’re either just saying it or believing it. I believe it, and I love you.”

There are great examples like this around you and me today. People who accept the Holy Spirit and deal with their pain and humanity beautifully. People who live life like Gene Wilder did, after he lost his funny and loving Gilda.

They know the crosses we bear aren’t easy, but they know how to trust and follow the Greatest Example of All.

Much love and peace.

Dori's Journals

"An unexamined life is a life not worth living."

- Socrates

Will and I were watching Saving Private Ryan a few weeks ago. In a scene at the end of the movie, a dying Capt. John Miller looks at the soldier he has saved and says, "Earn this." I have been reflecting on that statement recently and today, the four-year anniversary of Dori's death.



Several months ago, I was rummaging through a drawer and found two journals Dori kept during her cancer fight. The Socrates quote was one of many that Dori wrote down, but her own words were also powerful and moving. While I witnessed everything firsthand, it was amazing to read about her courage, determination, faith and doubts. All of us have doubts and fears. More of us need what Dori had. Faith. I would like to share more of her words, around the context of her journey and ours.

"[Cancer] has become my opportunity to be a person of more depth. To listen deeper. To care more. To focus on relationships instead of tasks. The word 'why" is never going to help."

"I stop myself from asking "why me"? But I don't understand "why" somethings can't be explained. Mark Faulkner said "why me" was in the past. True. "Why me' is despair."

Cancer changed Dori. It changed our relationship as husband and wife. It changed my children and me, while she was here and after she departed. It profoundly moved thousands of people who knew her and came to know her, at the hospitals and clinics, through blogs and CaringBridge.

"I have been told attitude is very important. That concerns me because I'm not always a glass half full person. No time like the present!"

"Liz told me it takes courage to get through this. I don't know if I have courage but I know I'm a damn hard worker."

"I will beat this. I will beat this. I will beat this. I will beat this!"

When Dori was diagnosed with leukemia, and the shock wore off as she started treatments, our love grew. It grew because she was filled with the Holy Spirit. Somehow, I experienced the same Spirit, through the love, support and prayer that surrounded us. A good marriage became a great marriage. Faith, hope and love ... But the greatest is unending, growing love.

"So sorry, little bad blood cells ... You are not going to control me."

Dori should have died several times over her four-year struggle. Her cancer was very aggressive, but she managed to fight through it several times when life should have ended.

"Patience is one of the attributes of God. When we are patient, we are like Him."

"We are often put to our most difficult test just before the greatest work of God in our lives is about to be accomplished."

"You are creating your future experiences with your 'now' thoughts.""

"This spectacular recovery is just getting started!"

Dori did beat cancer through her fight, patience, and grit. She beat cancer through her faith. It pisses me off to see obituaries and comments that so-and-so lost their battle with cancer. Really? Did they? Did Jesus lose his fight when he was tortured and crucified? Did every person with illness carry the cross like my wife did? Dori left this earth four years ago today, but she changed hearts, minds and lives all around her. We lost her presence, but we will always have her example. I pray that me, my children, and all of her friends and family do the same, until we see her again.

"Sometimes what seems like the darkest step we've ever been on comes just before the brightest light we've ever experienced."

"Tata for now!"

Team Dori ... $8,500 raised and counting!

Good buddy Jim Asker has a great blog entry about Team Dori. His tribute to her is amazing. http://www.runningtocurecancer.org/2014/11/23/here-comes-team-dori/

I hope you consider supporting Gilda's Club Nashville (more links at the left). We've already raised $8,500 so far, which helps cancer victims not pay a penny for their support group programs. Thanks to all of you have given so far!

Special thanks to Ted Sanft and Jim for helping raise money and awareness about great cancer support programs like Gilda's Club Nashville! These guys are great leaders in our community.

Running for Gilda's Club

It's time to run again for an incredible cause, while remembering an incredible person, my wife Dori. I'm running another half marathon this spring in Louisville with Team Dori to support Gilda's Club Nashville.

When Dori was dying in the spring of 2011, she made a list of things she'd like me to do. One of them was to attend cancer support programs at Gilda's Club Nashville, which she did all four years of her cancer journey. She said take the kids, too. I've been going ever since, and currently participate in a group called No Time to Grieve - Raising Kids on Your Own. Through the program, I've listened to others' struggles and successes, and have shared my own experiences. I've met Warren Thompson, our facilitator who has become a very good friend. Warren lost his wife many years ago and raised three kids on his own. We go to breakfast often. I've met Felice Apolinsky, who Dori loved dearly and vice versa. Felice has been an angel in many ways to me personally and to my children. She connects the dots, which is what Dori wanted for us. Recently, encouraged by founder Sandy Towers, I joined the board ... what a great group of leaders.

Team Dori met yesterday for our first run, then a coffee organizer with GCN's Deb Sandvik. Twelve of our 20 team members made the meeting. Our fundraising pages are being set up today and in the days ahead. My buddy Jim Asker, a lymphoma survivor, is doing an awesome job recruiting many of the "givers" we've met over the years, and I'm meeting new friends and hearing their stories. We're all eager to pound more pavement early in the morning in Middle Tennessee so others can have the support they need.

Please consider giving to Gilda's Club Nashville. You would be doing something great for others while remembering Dorothy Ruth Sawyer Brown, who blessed us with such tremendous grace, love and strength while she was with us. I thank you in advance!

Everything Changes

Much has occurred since the spring, the last time I blogged.

The kids and I vacationed in Glacier National Park in July in an RV. It was an eye-opening experience in several ways. Of course, the scenery was unbelievably breathtaking. God’s awesomeness was everywhere, as you can see.

When you get out of the house and spend a week in an RV with two teenagers, it’s a lot of quality time. Even though Dori wasn’t with us, she was there. Her physical absence was magnified on vacation, while her meaning to us was more apparent than ever.

During the trip and upon our return, waves of grief took turns hitting our shores. We’ve been dealing with deeper layers of emotion, what I call peeling back more of the onion. We’ve had some tough days, but the trip was well worth it. We have been presented with new opportunities to grow.

On the trip, I read Eleven Rings – a great book by basketball coach Phil Jackson, given by my friend Maureen. Jackson’s unorthodox techniques resulted in 11 NBA championships, 10 as coach of the Bulls and Lakers. Long story short, Jackson drew upon Lakota Sioux Indian ritual, Buddhism and Christianity to help shape thinking and focus to build united, high-achieving teams.

Jackson wrote about the Buddhist belief that you cannot be happy or live a purposeful life unless you recognize “everything changes.” I alluded to this in my last post, in fact, citing Father Jerry’s Easter homily.

Change seems to be a recurring theme. Last night, Maureen and I went to the Belcourt Theater to see the movie Calvary. Father James, an Irish widower and now priest, is the protagonist, a Christ-like figure. His parishioners are struggling, to say the least; most have no spiritual or moral compass and some are evil. In fact, one parishioner who was raped as a boy by another priest has pledged to kill Father James in seven days.

Father James is tormented and mocked by his entire congregation. Two men beat him. Adultery and debauchery are everywhere; hope isn’t. His church is burned to the ground and his dog’s throat is slit. His daughter, who recently attempted suicide, wonders aloud about her own meaning. Father James, knowing his death is likely imminent, seems to be on a journey to pay for all these sins.

At one point, Father James discusses the inevitability of change with his daughter. At another, he comforts a woman who has experienced tragic deaths in her immediate family. Father James opines that if your faith is rooted in the fear of death, it isn’t very deep. Faith isn’t a comforter so much as the knowledge you are forgiven and welcomed to His Kingdom, if you believe.

When called by parishioners to their homes, Father James asked if he was there to be tormented, tempted and ridiculed, or if they wanted to ask for the Lord’s forgiveness. Did they have true remorse? Were they seeking redemption?

Calvary is dark and graphic. I sensed many left the theater is disbelief, after Father James is murdered in cold blood, threat carried out. At the end of the movie, you could hear a pin drop. Where was the happy ending?

If everything changes, and it will, then what are we waiting for? Why is it so hard to ask forgiveness? Why are we so prideful and judgmental?

My wife taught me the living example of faith. Now, reminders are everywhere – in gifted books, in movies and on vacations. The Holy Spirit is speaking through others now, trying to connect me to righteousness and redemption, as I face my own ongoing challenges and shortcomings.

The only lasting happy ending, if we believe, is after this life. I’ll pray about this more, and ask that you pray with me, and for those who seek redemption and those who choose another course.

The Promise of Easter

A few weeks ago while cleaning out a drawer, I found another journal that Dori kept when she was sick. While bearing her heavy cross, she called cancer her "opportunity" to get closer to Christ. That was Dorothy Ruth Sawyer Brown, the mother of my children.

Today, Easter Sunday, is a joyful day. The pain of Good Friday - the grief of Mary and Jesus' followers and the scourging and crucifixion of our Lord and Savior - has become His promise of redemption and renewal on this most holy day. This morning at Easter Mass, I thought about all of this, as well as Dori, as the trumpets and violins beckoned the congregation. Ebullient altar flowers stood at attention, seemingly aware of the meaning of the moment. Jesus is risen. We are saved.

Two years ago, once the tremendous shock of Dori's passing started to wane, life changed. At times, it was chaotic and unrecognizable. The silence in the home could be deafening, the pained voices of loved ones hard to hear. Peaceful moments were rare. I traded one cross for another. My role as caregiver was over. My role as a widower, raising two children, was underway. What were the answers? What should I do? Everyone I knew was talking, but I couldn't hear what anyone was saying. Are you kidding me, as my best friend often says?

Last fall, life started getting bumpier as teenagers grew. Kathryn started driving, and the thought of another loss was too much for this parent to bear. I was not ready. I didn't do well. It was time for a new direction, so I started making changes.

Dori's death created a vacuum that filled gradually. You cannot raise two children on your own, have a successful career and stay balanced, without some help from others. That support, however, sometimes had strings. Boundaries dropped, and a new dynamic existed before I knew it. New challenges emerged. A few said hurtful things. A crossroad was reached. Refocus and a new plan were needed. Boundaries needed to be redrawn. I needed to take care of me, and especially my children.

My new plan: I would keep unconditional love around our inner circle. There would be no strings. Family members saw this recalibration, some accepting and able to make the adjustment. Others I love unfortunately are incapable at this moment. I will always be open to working with anyone within these boundaries, but it will be through unconditional love.

Not to anyone's surprise, I still think of Dori every day, often. I call on her spirit and example for help. Her wisdom, patience and love are no longer of this earth, but if I stop, breathe and listen, she is there. Her smile and laugh, adorned in His Light, never fades. I cannot tell you how much this comforts and guides me to teach my incredible children and live the life I've been given.

In today's homily, Father Jerry simply said, "Jesus is the answer," whatever the question. We all have or will have a cross or crosses to bear. Life will change; ready or not, the moment will arrive.

My task, and perhaps yours, will be to stay in sight of the answer - Jesus, our Redeemer and Savior - who promises us hope and eternal life. He is the Way, the Truth and the Life.

The Wedding of All Weddings

Nineteen years ago this Tuesday, Dori and I exchanged our vows, cementing our commitment to love one another. I did that, without exception, until her death two years ago. I had my moments, of course. In any relationship, you always do. She also had her own, but not as many. She was the better half, and I knew it. What we did, through what I would call mostly mild infrequent turbulence, was provided balance, understanding and reassurance. Her strengths were my weaknesses, and vice versa.

Our wedding and reception were incredible. Dori beamed when she entered the church, and I struggled to keep my composure. I teared up immediately, then felt amazingly calm and warm. The ceremony went quickly. I learned later that Dori's sister Kathy lost the ring, and borrowed my Dad's at the altar. Kathy found my ring later.

The reception at Two Rivers Mansion, a restored home from the Civil War era, was one helluva party. Some have said it was the best reception ever. It was a cool crisp fall evening, Oct. 15, 1994. Vanderbilt had beaten Georgia in football, a rarity, and our Commodore friends were in good moods. We danced outside - the young, middle-aged and old. No one seemed to have a care in the world. They soaked up the energy, and so did we.

At milestones, I reflect on the moments, the people and the lessons. What's been on mind this week is that Dori taught me so much through her example. I am like her now, in some ways. When I deal with a teenager's issues, for example, I call on her example. Her words sometimes almost come through my lips. It's not like being two people, but it is feeling her presence and spirit. Dori was calm, a phenomenal listener, slow to judge but very intuitive and incredibly gifted understanding people and situations. Her physical absence is a huge void in our lives, but it's not a complete void. She already showed us what to do, how to handle situations and people. It's not being able to hug her, celebrate moments, see her smile and hear her laugh that sucks.

Dori emphasized that we - the kids and I - needed to live rich, full lives when she was gone. That's great advice, advice we are taking and realizing more each day. The first year, we survived, but we probably looked like Hans Solo, frozen and pained under the watchful eye of Jabba the Hut. Through support, faith, and hell probably the force, we managed to break free and begin rebuilding and reshaping our lives.

I know Dori would be proud of us. We will never forget that she was our rock and our earthly light, and I was one very lucky man to have her in my life. The kids know they're lucky they had a Hall of Fame Mom. Mark Faulkner called her Saint Mom in his eulogy. Well said, friend.

Dori and I honored our vows until the end. Through thick and thin, for better or worse, richer or poorer. We experienced a great deal, but our faith and trust in each other never wavered. How could it, with her unwavering example? It's now my obligation, passion and honor to try to match it.

Mark's Homily

The two-year anniversary of Dori's death is almost here - this Friday. I found something yesterday that is helping me process it all.

My dear friend Mark Faulkner delivered one of the best homilies I ever heard at Cathedral of the Incarnation in November 2007, one month after Dori's bone marrow transplant. I will never forget his tribute to her and her example, which I think speaks to every man, woman and child who has experienced hardship.

I hope this helps explain who Dori was, to those who loved her and to those who never knew her greatness.

Deacon Mark Faulkner, November 18, 2007:

"Hardship … will lead to your giving testimony. Even if death … not a hair will be destroyed. PERSEVERANCE WILL SECURE YOUR LIFE.

"First of all, what is the LIFE that perseverance through hardship will lead to? As you might guess, it is NOT necessarily what many often value in this life. Just as the Temple was adorned with valuable stones and gilding and whitewash … all that superficial stuff amounted to nothing when the temple was crumbled and destroyed. The LIFE that comes from persevering through hardship is a more substantive life … a richer life … a deeper life … a grateful life that wells up in us.

"St. John of the Cross in his book “Dark Night of the Soul” talks about the dawning of new and transcendent life that comes after living through a very dark time. He reminds us that our God promises that in spite of any current darkness, if we just try to persevere, there will ALWAYS be new and greater life following.

"This has been a week of me witnessing dark nights almost everywhere I turned.

"Melanie Nelson, a friend of mine for over 20 years died on Wednesday after a five-year battle with brain tumors … and she battled with amazing, ever-buoyant hope. Melanie persevered.

"Wes Caldwell, a business associate and friend I’ve worked with for over 10 years succumbed to cancer Thursday night … but he did so with a peaceful, faithful candor about what was happening. Wes persevered.

"And then our dear Bishop Niedergeses died Friday but who, in spite of aging and a series of medical challenges, remained to the end, a shining light of joyful gratitude and service. Bishop Niedergeses persevered.

"Or a single mom with whom I was speaking, trying to deal with the anxieties of her kids, so badly effected by divorce, and the financial burdens that have ensued, and the frustrating lack of help for shouldering some of the most basic day to day tasks … tasks that are simply hard for a woman ... and yet, trudging forward with all the cheerfulness she can muster. She is persevering.

"And our own Dori Brown from here at the Cathedral who has faced acute leukemia and mortality, and she is doing so with courage and determination, persevering one day at a time … and savoring each moment of life … I’d like share just some brief notes Dori wrote as she continues to recover …….

"I didn't realize feeling good felt so good!

"Our news to report is that my cells are continuing to slowly increase. The really great news is that my platelets are now growing without the help of transfusions.

"After having been in the hospital over two months this summer, I have now been here again for another month … and this stay has the most difficult physically. Heavy medications that take their toll, high fever that saps you, Chemo-induced mouth sores and a throat too sore to swallow or talk, exhaustion and pain and nausea and rashes … but …

"I found a nice quote from the diary of Anne Frank: 'I don't think of all the misery, but of all the beauty that still remains.'

"I wish that I could say I've been fully living according to that inspirational message these past 30 days, but it’s been so tough. I do know that I finally see a light at the end of the tunnel and that is so welcome. I can't wait to walk back into our house, to be able to tuck the kids in bed, to sit on chairs that are not vinyl! To just be home.

"After a very dark period, I do sense a light at the end of the tunnel … Thank you for your support and prayers."

Love to all of you, Dori


"Dori’s sense of light is correct … that is what awaits us if we persevere, both in this world and in the next … a brighter life after hardship or the BRIGHTEST life of heaven after death … a brighter outlook, a brighter existence. A brighter appreciation … if we persevere through the hardships.

"I am very aware that some of you are facing challenges similar to a few of these I have referenced today … death, disease, broken relationships, financial burdens … . I know that all of us have our own challenges that are at varying levels of seriousness … I know that each of these challenges are important and significant to us, even if small compared to those of others.

Father Fleming, our former pastor would often say … NEVER give up, NEVER lose hope! NEVER. GET UP! We stumble, we are tripped, we doubt, we fear, we fall … just always get up … always persevere … always move forward … doing so makes our lives a testimony to faith, a testimony to hope.

"So, is how we are facing our own challenges “giving testimony”?

"Is how we are handling our burdens indicating faith that, whether in life or in death, nothing is lost, not a single hair?

"In our hardships, are we persevering, and thus, securing richer life?"

Dori's Birthday

Dori would have been 45 today. We miss her tremendously.

Dori basically ran the Christmas production in our house. I would buy the tree; she did almost everything else. Last year, I fled our house, taking the kids skiing with my helpful mom joining us. It was the right call. This year, we're staying here. It is still bizzarre and surreal not to have Dori in our lives.

Last night, I purchased a bigger tree than normal. We will decorate it later today, with my mother's help. It is a proud blue spruce, prickly like some family members and aromatic. Will loves the smell.

The kids and I are doing OK. It's almost like you have to start over, after such a loss. The shock doesn't wear off very easily. Then you get to deal with all the layers. Disbelief, anger, exhaustion ... It's a long list. Waves continue to pound the shore, to this day, 18 months after her passing.

I'm most proud that Kathryn and Will are doing so well in school. Kathryn's singing is a joy, and she turned into a good cross country runner this fall. She likes to run now, go figure. Will is playing two sports now, hockey and basketball. He scored two goals in last week's hockey game and made All Stars. He scored 13 points in yesterday's basketball game, helping keep his team in the game. They are joys to raise.

Dori left a tremendous legacy. She was the leader of our family, on so many fronts. Now she is remembered in special ways. Last month, I ran my 11th half marathon, raising more than $10,000 for Gilda's Club Nashville, the cancer support group she loved and that I still frequent. This week, I received a letter from Vanderbilt Ingram-Cancer Center, stating the $35,000 Dori Brown Discovery Grant is yielding promising results - researchers believe they understand how a mutated gene in AML attacks good suppressor genes. A second Discovery Grant in her name funded by friends will be used for targeted drug therapies that don't have the side effects of chemo. The Kanzius Cancer Research Foundation, a group we support, also continues to report good progress with their technology.

That's how I'm taking in a day in which I don't have my wife and the mother of our children. It doesn't take away the hurt or sadness, but it does provide some optimism for our journey here. I know she has to be smiling right now as I type these words. I love you, Dori, and I miss you still.

Progression

Hello, friends. It's been awhile.

I have a race to run. This time, for Gilda's Club Nashville, the folks who helped Dori every step of the way during her cancer fight. I started fundraising yesterday, and the response has been great. My race is in Nashville - the Hard Rock Cafe Half Marathon on Nov. 10. I hope you'll consider donating to Gilda's Club. They are the best at what they do.

I'm doing better than a year ago this time. Low days are infrequent, but waves of grief still come. But the waves are not as tall. The kids are moving along and recovering at a slower pace. But they are also recovering. Kathryn has started well at her new high school. She's enjoying cross country, and has shown a lot of improvement since the summer. Will also is running and about to start playing hockey. We love our church, and work is good.

We went to the North Carolina mountains in August, with a hike of the Appalachain Trail on bald Roan Mountain on the NC-TN border a highlight. We also had a fun tailgate before a Vanderbilt game. We stop to reflect often about Dori. We miss her very, very much.

My social life has returned. When you become a caregiver, as I was for four years, "fun times" almost disappear. I consider going to ballgames fun, but not much of a social life. Going to great restaurants, bars and music venues is a social life. I've been getting reaquainted with dining, dancing and laughing with a woman I like very much. My spirit is lighter, and I've been a better dad during this time of progression. The kids recognize I'm happier, but it is certainly a time of gradual adjustment. Life is not the same, and it takes a lot of time, and sometimes significant energy, to process it all. For the kids, and for me.

A friend shared yesterday, "Train for your race like someone's life is at stake." Amen. I thought of that when I was hurting on my training run this morning. Pain is temporary, quitting is forever. In running and in life.