From the Editor: Supportive community takes away some of the pain
Dashed dreams sting a little, but they just can't compare with lost dreams. It's taken me months to figure that out, and quite honestly, I wish I remained in the dark about it.
I've had a friend valiantly try to convince me that much of the sadness in my life today revolves around the fact that the dreams won't become reality, and intellectually, I get that. Emotionally, it's been another story. Anger is replaced by sadness too often when it comes to the impending death of my marriage, and quite honestly, I think it would be easier if I could just stay angry.
And my friend would say over and over, “The problem is you're having a hard time facing the fact that the dreams aren't going to happen.” But honestly, I couldn't wrap my arms around it ... until last Tuesday.
I'm not sure I still have a total handle on it, but as we talked with John Osnes, a longtime Forest City businessman whose son was senselessly murdered in a Hollywood crosswalk, I was struck by my friend's words. The dream isn't going to happen.
I don't pretend to know John all that well - enough to say hi and chat about the weather is about the best I could do before last Tuesday - but I didn't need to know him that well to put my arm around his shoulders and express my deepest sympathies.
“A parent shouldn't have his children die before him,” John said through the tears.
Maybe to some, it seems like a morbid dream, but it's a real one for most parents - no matter how old we are. None of us want to experience the death of a child.
John's son and namesake was 55, 12 years older than me, but the pain in the father's voice and especially in his eyes will remain with me for a long, long time. I am 12 years younger than his son. My sons are more than 45 years younger than his son. But I realized - almost with an epiphany - that this elderly gentleman and me, this middle-aged dad with two young sons, shared a bond.
Three days later, I saw John again at the Summit's open house. Again, we chatted. And again, the pain was evident. But so, too, was this wonderful, almost-invisible-but-still-very-real embracing of John by his friends. The tears still came but so did a smile every now and then.
An hour later, Pastor Rod Hopp of Immanuel Lutheran Church prayed the prayer at the annual Christmas Tree Lighting Ceremony, and he talked about the different color of the lights representing the diversity of the world both today and the world that the baby Jesus came into so long ago.
Believers trust that God's son came here not for a select few but for all of us and that to this day he embraces all of us.
I'm sure God is not exactly happy with the way his world has turned out at times. My best guess is God is not a big fan of what happened on that Hollywood street last week or what is happening, let's say, in my family's life this year.
But I passionately believe that one of Christ's commands to us is to be kind to people, to reach out and help our fellow man whenever we can - be it with canned goods for the food bank or putting your arm around a fellow human being who is experiencing tragedy at its worse.
So today I realize that as nice as it is to be supportive when your neighbor has a dream that is dashed, it is absolutely imperative that we hold our neighbors tight when their dreams are lost.
That was the lesson I learned last week. Oh, I've had dashed dreams before - the Vikings not making the Super Bowl in 1999, not getting that job I always wanted, not winning the Powerball, the Gophers getting beat 55-0 by the Hawkeyes - but I realize now that they're nothing compared to lost dreams.
What I am thankful for is that I live in a community - just like John Osnes does - that lifts people as those dreams fade to black.
Bob Fenske is the editor of the Forest City Summit. He can be reached by phone at 585-2112 or by e-mail at editor@forestcitysummit.com.
Story created Dec 03, 2008 - 15:51:21 CST.
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