I’ve taken a couple weeks off of writing the blog. My nephew, Jens, lost his battle with melanoma on August 29, and I decided that I would go to Denver to help my sister prepare for everyone’s final goodbye to him. The week I was there started and ended with a Wednesday, so I just couldn’t get myself together enough to blog. 

Jens was flawed, as we all are. But what I am struck by, as I sit here thinking about Jens, and the week that Jens spent here in the summer, and the week I spent in Denver with three of my sisters: Debbie, Jeannie, and Teresa (Jens’ mom), is by how extraordinarily ordinary Jens’ life was. The ordinary life is such a gift, and I never really stop to think about how amazing it is. Jens attended Colorado School of the Mines and studied engineering. After some other jobs, he landed at the post office, first as a carrier and then as a supervisor. He had a good rapport with his coworkers. Judging from the postal uniforms at Jens’ funeral, last Wednesday was a slow mail day around Denver. He had hobbies and dreams, but his life revolved around his wife Katie, and his two boys, Jason (10) and Justin(4). 

That’s the diamond in the rough of life: the family and friends we surround ourselves with. We all know it. It’s just so hard to focus on that when everything else is angling for our time, money, and effort. We were honored to be chosen to host Jens, Katie, their boys, and my sister Teresa and her husband Robert this summer, as well as Jens’ brother Jesse and Jesse’s girlfriend, Meg.  We knew it could be his last birthday, his final vacation with his boys, who must face the difficulty of living most of their lives without their dad. They  have many males in their lives to help them along: Jens’ dad, Jay, Robert, and their Uncle Jesse are the primary guys, but there is no replacement for their dad and the wonderfully ordinary day-to-day presence of him. 

I challenge you today to pick one ordinary blessing in your life, and stop to appreciate it, in honor of Jens. The more ordinary the blessing, the better. After that ordinary moment, send a prayer or mental hug to Jens’ family who are struggling to figure out their roles in their new lives without their wonderfully ordinary Jens in it. As I sat at the service to remember Jens’ life, I looked to my left and watched his boys. I was struck by the tragedy of their loss. Crushed by his loss, Jason looked like the oldest 10 year old, yet still able to be comforted by his mom, Katie. In contrast, Justin played with a stuffed animal that some kind person had given to him. On some level, he understands his loss, but not as fully as his older brother. 

Thank you to everyone who has reached out. I appreciate your kind gestures and prayers. Keep them coming. And remember the ordinary. It really is the joy of life.