Someday

During the month since Ramsy died, I have spent a lot of time thinking and writing and reading and learning. One of the things that has been on my mind is the language that we use to describe times of crisis, or to comfort each other in times of crisis or loss. I love language and the different moods that can be created by the choice of words, but I have been struck many times over the past year by the realization that the words we use are so often inadequate to convey exactly what we feel or think.

One instance of this (and I cannot recall whether this phrase has been said to me personally, but I have heard it over the years here and there) is when we talk about "The Reason" that a sad event has occurred, as if there is only one. "We can't know The Reason why this had to happen," or "When we get to Heaven ourselves God will tell us The Reason for this tragedy."  I think I understand what we mean when we say this, but looking through the lens of my recent experience, it sits uneasily.  It is not quite enough, to my mind. It seems to reduce life to an equation, or a series of direct cause-and-effect events, or a chess game in which we are pawns to be sacrificed when necessary- and too bad for us.  But life is so complex, the more so because we are spiritual beings living in a physical world that does not run the way it was designed to, and where we experience spiritual as well as physical sufferings.  A simple answer to everything does not fit.  What is The Reason the tsunami happened in southeast Asia a couple of years ago?  What is The Reason for the terrible imbalance of wealth in the world?  Who can give (or accept) a one-sentence explanation for Candace Derksen's death?

The kind of response that I sense in my mind and heart is in a song by Nichole Nordeman called "Someday":

I believe in the rest of the story
I believe there's still ink in the pen
I have wasted my very last day
Trying to change what happened way back when

I believe it's the human condition
We all need to have answers to "why"
More than ever I'm ready to say
That I will still sleep peacefully
With answers out of reach for me until

Someday all that's crazy, all that's unexplained
Will fall into place
And someday all that's hazy through a clouded glass
Will be clear at last
And sometimes we're just waiting
For someday

We are born with a lingering hunger
We are born to be unsatisfied
We are strangers who can't help but wander and dream
About the other side of someday

Every puzzle's missing piece
Every unsolved mystery
More than half of every whole
Rests in the Hand that holds you for someday

And someday all that's crazy, all that's unexplained
Will be beautiful, beautiful
And someday all that's hazy through a clouded glass
Will be clear at last
And sometimes we're just waiting
And waiting
For someday

This kind of response allows for the complexities of life, and the ups and downs of our feelings, and all kinds of mess. Did you see that line in the last chorus? And someday all that's crazy, all that's unexplained will be beautiful, beautiful! As a middle-aged woman, I have seen in my own life and in the lives of others the miracle of something beautiful arising out of horrible circumstances.  Although I would not have chosen the painful experiences that I've had in my life, by walking through them I have become a more compassionate person; have made deep and lasting friendships; have had people added to my family whom I love; have learned who God is for myself instead of only hearing about him from others.  Remembering this gives me hope that good things will continue to come even out of great sorrow if I allow my heart to remain open and soft.

Another thing to consider: as humans, we live inside the created structure of time, while God lives outside of that structure.  To me this often-overlooked fact helps account for some of the great mysteries of our spiritual experience. I don't know how it works, and I don't know that anyone could explain it to me so I would understand (how does one explain to a goldfish that one day it will live outside of water?); but when I think of the time/non-time fact I am reassured that I don't really understand how the universe works and that I don't have to stretch to come up with answers to why things happen the way they do. I can rest in the "I don't know" and trust that someday- after I too have gone to live outside of time and hang out with Jesus and Ramsy- the things that I need to know will become clear to me, and that Jesus will show us all the beautiful things that came of this that we did not get to see here.

I don't know why I have to wait here so painfully while Ramsy has gone home ahead of me, but I believe that I would not understand any reasons right now even if they were shown to me. I think that's for Someday.

These days

What I'm doing these days: being alone. Looking through memorabilia, reading old letters and journals, looking at pictures, watching videos of Ramsy's conducting days. Listening to songs that make me cry- on purpose.

Memories of him as he was before he got sick, and especially as he was when we met and were dating, have surfaced from the deep place they hid in order to allow me to make it through the last year moment by moment. I have loved re-discovering those early days of our relationship. When I read my journal entries describing our first day spent together, or a particular phone call or conversation, I can remember exactly how I felt then. I am delighted to discover that Ramsy was even kinder to me than I knew at the time, as a 19 year-old getting to know her first boyfriend. He was truly the other half of me. He saw the best things in me and devoted himself to loving me and helping those things come to life. I am astonished that he would choose me. I am profoundly grateful to God for the mercy he showed in giving me this man.

And now that I can remember, the deep sorrow wells up. I have lost him, and it is time to weep. So I will.

A request

It is late, and I should be sleeping so I can get up with my kids in the morning, but I want to write this short post. I am finding these days that I am full of memories of Ramsy, loving reading through our old letters or reminiscing, and so longing to talk about him as well as to hear others tell me about their experiences with him. If you happen to have something that you would be willing to share with me, please do send me stories or memories about him, from "old days" or newer ones, goofy or serious or whatever.

My mailing address:

Shannon Unruh
Box 310
Oakville, MB
R0H 0Y0

OK- going to bed.

50

Happy 50th birthday, my love.  Maybe in Heaven, birthday cake is made of chips and coffee...
Love you. Miss you.

Thanksgiving

It is Thanksgiving Day here in Canada.  In some moments, it is difficult to be thankful.  When the pain is uppermost, I have wistfulness instead of gratitude; but the pain is not constant, and over the last almost-year, as we have traveled into the valley of the shadow of death, even as we continue wandering in that valley, we have been deeply thankful:

• that Ramsy suffered minimal pain. He had occasional headaches- not even every day, and mostly easily relieved by Tylenol 1s.  We are very aware that this is not typical of a cancer experience, and we are grateful for this mercy.
• that the tumor did not interfere with his thoughtful, loving, easy-going nature.  He retained the essence of his personality right to his last day.
• that he always knew exactly who we were.
• that the losses happened little by little.  Although enduring a year of perpetual loss has been deeply painful, it allowed me to make adjustments in the household, plan ahead with Ramsy for our finances, learn how to manage or delegate many of the tasks that he had always done, and to slowly become accustomed to being without him.  My heart aches for those of you who have had a loved one snatched away without warning.
• that our suffering was not the result of any meanness or viciousness or violence from another person.  We have been surrounded by kindness.
• that we have public health care and excellent insurance from Ramsy's employer.  Both of these, combined with the many gifts we have received, have allowed us to endure this illness and death without undue financial stress.  
• that God is trustworthy even when we do not understand how he works or doesn't work.  He promised me in the first days of Ramsy's illness that he would look after me no matter what, and so I can keep walking through this fog.  He promised us that he has prepared a place for us with him, and that in that place everything will be made right and whole, so we can be glad for Ramsy and thankful for the confidence that we will also one day be at home there.

That is only a smattering of how we have experienced grace and mercy.  I wish I had time and space and the memory to write it all down here, but I hope that gives a hint of what I want express.

So I say to you, who are in an easy part of your life, "Happy Thanksgiving," and I say to you, who are in pain too, "Happy Thanksgiving.  If God has helped us, he will help you too."

Happy Thanksgiving.

Obituary

C. Ramsy Unruh  

Peacefully on Thursday, September 29, 2011, Ramsy Unruh, loving husband to Shannon and father to Katy, Tom and Jane, passed away just 16 days short of his 50th birthday. 

 Also left to treasure Ramsy’s memory are his mother Katy Unruh of Morden, MB; siblings Phil (Diane) Unruh of Carman, MB; Tim (Jeanette) Unruh of Whistler, BC; Noni (Phil) Goertzen of Langley, BC; Christine (Evan) Jennings of North Vancouver, BC ; parents-in-law Myrna Foster and Lloyd and Larraine Ratzlaff of Saskatoon, SK; sister-in-law Sheri (Rob) Porrelli of Saskatoon, SK; and many nieces and nephews.  He was predeceased by his father Dr. Cornel Unruh.

 

Ramsy was born and raised in Morden, MB, but his musical interests led him around North America for training and work.  He met Shannon while teaching music in Moose Jaw, SK, and they married in 1992.  He became the music pastor at a church in Kelowna, BC that year, and then took the same position at a Winnipeg church in 1998.  Through leading worship and working closely with his volunteers, he developed an interest in helping people with the highs and lows of life and accepted a job as senior pastor at Community Fellowship Church in Newton, MB.

Ramsy loved and was loved by children, and he was delighted when each of his kids were born.  They enjoyed many adventures with him: bike riding, camping, bowling, driving to the Portage Tim Horton’s for donuts early in the morning.  When they were small, he used to take them to Revy for Timbits and tell them stories he made up while they ate.  He loved Shannon dearly and told and showed her that all the time in hundreds of thoughtful ways.

He was creative, adventurous, brave, sometimes stubborn, both gentle and bold, willing to admit when he was wrong and to learn from his mistakes.  He was not perfect, nor did he pretend to be.  He loved Jesus passionately, and delighted in his work as a pastor.  He was never afraid to cry in public, and his boisterous laugh rang out in many a meeting or social event.

Ramsy endured the trial of his brain tumor with grace and humor, seldom showing self-pity, often thinking of others and concerned about how his illness created work for them.  He often expressed wonder over the fact that people were interested in how he was doing or sent gifts or cards. 

He died at home in his own bed, with Shannon and his three children around him, for which we are thankful.  He will be sorely, deeply missed. We, his family, are so grateful for the outpouring of support from friends, church family, the extended Oakville community, medical network, and even strangers, that made this difficult journey bearable.  Their many kindnesses will not be forgotten.

Viewing and Visitation will take place at Newton Community Fellowship Church from 7:00 to 8:00 pm on Wednesday, October 5, 2011. 

Funeral Service will be held on Thursday, October 6, 2011 at the William Glesby Centre, Portage la Prairie at 1:00 pm.

As expressions of sympathy, if friends so wish, donations may be made in Ramsy’s memory to Mully Children’s Family Charitable Foundation (MCFCF), 864 Hurontario Street, Collingwood, ON  L9Y 3Z1 or to Central Plains Cancer Care Services, 318 Sask.Ave.E, Portage la Prairie, MB, R1N OK8.

A tree will be planted in memory and cared for

by McKenzies Portage Funeral Chapel  857-4021

A message can be left in the on-line guest book at www.mckenziesportagefuneralchapel.com