The Incredible Elastic Amy Johnson

2 Years Ago…Today

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It’s hard to believe that two years have passed since Amy’s memorial service. Today has been a difficult day – surprisingly – for me. Two things have kept me going today. The first is the song God woke me up singing: “Even If” by MercyMe. The second was the memory of my boys honoring their mother at the service. To honor Amy and my three boys, below are the parting words of each of my three boys to, and about, their mother. Isaiah went first, Micah followed directly after him, and Gabe spoke right before the final worship song. I hope these words move you as much as they’ve moved me today.

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ISAIAH

14324483_10210808805555894_1872310915559200635_oThe first thing that I think you should know about my mom is that she changed me through her ministry to other people. Mom taught me many things and gave me many qualities of herself to continue on in her memory. She taught me to be creative and to try new things; she taught me how to cook; she taught me how to be nice to and serve others; and she gave me a passion to work with kids.

Besides the many creative things I’ve attempted and enjoyed with my mom’s encouragement, she taught me how to cook like she cooked. I am glad I know how to cook her chicken, make her version of slop, and bake her amazing chocolate chip cookies.

When I was 5, Mom let me really help her bake chocolate chip cookies for the first time. We had fun, even though there was a big mess to clean up. The best part about that day was that it was the first time I got to do “quality control”, something my dad usually got to do.

Over the years, I have watched my mom volunteer at many Beaverton Foursquare camps. This past 4-5 Camp I got to volunteer with her for both my first and her last time. Every year, even when she was tired, she didn’t stop working at camp because she wanted to serve the kids and staff, thinking of their needs, not her own. I want to go back to 4-5 Camp as a volunteer though and help honor her legacy of love and care of others.

The second thing I want you to know about my mom was that she loved everyone she met. I want to live up to her example. You may not know that there were many people who loved and trusted my mom with many different things. She loved everyone, and hardly ever said “No” to serving others, even us kids.

I loved crawling into her lap – even just a few weeks ago – and she would hold me until I fell asleep in her arms. I may have surpassed her in height this summer, but I will have to strive to come close to her supernatural height and her model of faith.

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MICAH

14310560_10210808805995905_5256768924942963016_oMy freshman year I went to my school’s graduation ceremony, and every single graduate had the opportunity to give mini-speeches and thank the people they love. Mom leaned over to me and said, “20 bucks says that you couldn’t fit song titles into your speech.” So, instead of a graduation speech, I decided that for the circumstances, maybe we could make it this speech instead? Besides, she owes me 20 bucks already. But I guess I should just “Let It Go.”

From the time that she watched me do the “Single Ladies” dance that I have regretted since, to her pummeling me with a stuffed shark because I couldn’t understand the lyrics to “Hit Me with your Best Shot”, to her trying (and succeeding) to make me crumple to the floor by tickling my earlobe, mom was always mom.

Over the last two weeks of her life, Mom persistently pestered me about college applications, particularly, an essay for one specific college. They wanted a paper on my Jesus story, and how I have grown in Him. And although I know there was “Something to Believe In,” I struggled to find a way to write about my faith story. “How can I help you?” she kept asking me. I didn’t know what help I needed, so I didn’t answer my mother’s question. I spent so much time upstairs in my room or with my friends to avoid her bugging me. Today, I wish I hadn’t. For those of you wondering, I have not finished that essay, but I know who it will be about. Don’t worry, mama. I’ll make you “Proud of Your Boy.”

Two weeks ago, to this day, I was at work for an 8-hour, on my feet, being nice to people, shift. I was having a no-good, very bad day, and I called home. My supervisor was going to let me go on a meal break soon, and I felt like I just needed to come home. So I came home and had dinner with the family. It was a bit chaotic: I felt like a rushed mess, and they all had finished their food already. Mom made them wait at the dinner table for an extra 45 minutes just for me, but it felt normal. I didn’t even remember that mom was sick. “I Want the Good Times Back. That Would Be Enough.” We were laughing and playing games until I had to race back to work.

“How can I help you?”

Mom always asked that. To everyone.

I asked, “Are you okay?”

The day before her passing, we were having a great time. We went bowling to celebrate a final day of summer as a family of five. Little did we know, that was our last celebration as a family of five. About halfway through the game, Mom started feeling sick. We thought it was just another bad night.  She has had so many over the last 2 years. When we got home, Dad and I helped her upstairs. I wish I remember the last thing she said to me. But I remember what I told her: “Are you gonna be okay, Mom?”

So many people had no idea how sick my mom was.

You see, she didn’t want all the attention on her. She didn’t want everyone to treat her differently. So, instead of complaining, she changed the topic. She chose to focus on her gifts, rather than her sickness. My mom served in ministry for 30 years. Knowing her state of health, it “Blows Us All Away” how continually and unfailingly hospitable she was.

IMG_90661I’m wearing those bowling shoes now. We called the venue, and they let me borrow them to honor the last time Mom was Mom, focusing on celebrating with us. I kinda wish I could just click my heels and we would be together again. She taught me to laugh, she taught me to love. So much of me is made of what I learned from mom. And it will stick with me “For Good.”

As Christians, we don’t have to be eternally sad because we know that we will someday meet again in the Presence of the Lord. So, I get to say “Goodbye Until Tomorrow.”

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GABRIEL

14409486_10210808859717248_1674417536705584557_oHi, everybody. I’m Gabriel, and good afternoon. Amy was my mom and I just miss her so much. I wish she was here with me right now. I just want her with me. What made me really happy was how she just loved me. And I just wanted, for all of us, if we could just love on her and wrap around her heart.

I’m going to miss her because she was there. But I’m excited that she’s stuck in Heaven right now. She always sung me, “How great is our God.” That was the first lullaby she ever sang to me. It took me forever to learn her. It took me years to figure out why she was my mother. And then I got it. She loved Jesus very much. I hope you do too.

Our last song is “10,000 Reasons.” Some of you know it by heart. It was one of my mom’s favorite worship songs when we were a family together. In this whole memorial service, we have been just loving her. Thank you all for coming. Let’s sing together her last song.

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Amy gave my boys a passion to be servant warriors in her footsteps, to be a spark of joy in someone’s day, and to be someone who loves for no other reason than because God put the person into their lives. I married this incredible, amazing woman 21 years ago, and even though she is stuck in Heaven, as Gabriel put it, she is also stuck in our hearts.

The Labor Day Stress

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20180903_151824It started at Starbucks this afternoon. Pumpkin Spice is back on the menu. Amy’s signature drink: Grande, 2 pump Pumpkin Spice, 2 pump White Mocha, 2 pump Cinamon Dulce Latte. I ordered one. My heart had been in a numb funk all day. I thought the memory and the taste would perk things up; that is not what happened.

We’d gone to the Disney Store at the Outlets in Woodburn, Oregon because the boys had some money to burn. We looked around. I found a few things I couldn’t live without. Neither boy spent his money. We all smiled at the “Incredible Mom” cup and T-shirt. I thought of purchasing the cup for one of the “moms” who’s adopted my boys into her heart, but I couldn’t do it. Amy was my Mrs. Incredible. She could stretch to do so many things at once. I was the stressed out, stay-at-home dad (only 1 summer), who drove a small hatchback car when the first movie was released. My students swore Disney captured my story – taking a few creative liberties – and made a movie franchise! I put the cup back; I just couldn’t buy it. We left the store, purchased our Auntie Ann’s pretzels (a Woodburn Outlet tradition), and headed to find drinks. I dropped the boys off at Jamba Juice and headed to Starbucks.

Upon receiving my drink, I headed back to pick up the boys. From the moment they hopped in the car, the tenor of our day slid south. We couldn’t really figure out why. Everyone was just a little jumpy, nervous, irritable. Due to an accident ahead of us on the route home, our 30 min. drive became an hour and 20 mins. Needless to say, by the time we arrived home, we were needing some dinner and some alone time.

As the boys were getting ready for bed, I began busying myself with the chores of the house. I found myself checking the clock many times, but not really knowing why. Somewhere around 9:30 p.m., I realized what was wrong.

Today is Labor Day. Tomorrow is Tuesday, the beginning of my second week of school. Two years ago on Labor Day, I put a very nauseous Amy to bed, fed my kids dinner, and then busied myself about the house. When I woke in the morning, “Till death do us part” had become a reality.

I’ve spent the last hour hemming and hawing about the things that need to be done before tomorrow then chastising myself for worrying and picking up the fear God delivered me from six weeks before Amy passed away. It’s been a vicious cycle. The only way I know to break it is to admit that I’m in the crosshairs of fear, pray, ask God for peace, and then head to bed. Tomorrow will be another day. The actual anniversary of Amy’s death is Thursday; I’ve taken the day off work so I can deal with it for what it will be, and so that my students do not have to endure a numb, slightly frustrated teacher all day.

So, good night. I’m letting go of the fear so that God can take care of it for me. I pray I can fall asleep quickly and that my dreams are peaceful. Tomorrow is not a day to fear.

Incredible!

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Incredibles 2 poster 2

During the afternoon of November 6, 2004, on a Choir Retreat with my students from Heritage Christian School, a car pulled up to the lodge where we were staying and out poured four of my recently graduated students. Having been on the choir retreat in prior years, the students knew where we were staying. They were giddy and began yelling, looking for me.

“Mr. Johnson! We just watched you on the big screen!”

After calming them down, I learned they had seen The Incredibles the night before. And they’d driven out just to tell me about it.

“Have you seen it yet, Mr. Johnson?”

“You’ve got to see it, Mr. Johnson!”

“We swear; we were watching you! Especially the car scene.”

“Don’t ruin it for me,” I chided them, chuckling a bit.

When Amy and I saw the movie, I laughed until I cried. The car scene truly was me. I drove a red Ford Escort at the time, and I felt like I put on a raincoat with wheels every time I went to work.

And that’s how my life as a superhero started. Because of those four students, I became the mild-mannered teacher by day, world-saving superhero by night. My kids even believed it (granted they were only 5, 2, and 9 months at the time).  My secret identity has followed me from HCS to the other schools where I’ve worked. Two students from different schools have given me original drawn/painted pictures of me as a superhero, both of which I’ve framed and both of which adorn my classroom.

Last night, to honor Amy’s birthday (she was a Disney fan through and through), the boys and I went to the pre-showing of Incredibles 2. I was probably the only person in the theater crying. No spoilers, I promise.

There was a summer when Amy worked and I stayed home with the kids. I felt like Bob Parr. There was a moody child, a “jump first” child, and a child whose temperament changed the entire household in a blink. It was exhausting trying to care for all three without keeping up with the housework. However, every time Amy called to check on me, I tried to keep the brave-everything’s-okay voice. She saw through it, I’m sure, but I kept encouraging her to go out into the world and slay her dragon. It’d been too long since she’d worked outside the home. Each night, though, I reminded her she couldn’t leave until Isaiah graduated. I couldn’t keep up with it all…especially by myself.

Amy liked The Incredibles. She would have loved the sequel. It portrayed her in the best possible way. Truly flexible. Able to keep everything going, and going well. And one step ahead of each of the kids.

Is it still true today? Do I have an emotional, brooding teen? Do I have a child ready to run into the fray without much thought to the consequences? Do I have a changeling child who runs me ragged? Do I suck at housework and suffer from a lack of sleep? “Yes” to all. Was my Amy-zing wife truly Mrs. Incredible? Yes.  Go see the movie. It’s an incredible homage to my incredible family and ever elastic wife.

-Forever in His grip,

Thom