tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85633800973777722032024-03-13T04:44:39.395-05:00Live Life DifferentI am a dad who is determined to live life differently. Here is my story.tommybhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15921095136368083095noreply@blogger.comBlogger9125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8563380097377772203.post-13549986048427082062009-02-27T14:39:00.002-06:002009-02-27T14:40:53.729-06:00Perfect Storm, part 2<span style="font-size:85%;"><em>This is a continuation of the previous post (below).</em></span><br /><br />As I reflect over the past few years, I see bits and pieces of the “wake” from the storm we faced with Ben. Indeed, it has been impactful – but costly. Lessons emerge that shape perspective and initiate change. The first “ah-ha” moment for us was the importance to seek the truth about our faith. You see, our story wasn’t all that remarkable. Like you, we spent much of our time working and doing what we thought “needed to be done”. We would (from time to time) complain about how time is slipping by – pledge to spend more quality time together as a family… you probably know the routine. I was struggling with guilt because for the past year or so, I had withdrawn from my family and missed out on a lot. [I allowed struggles from 9/11 to wreck my time at home. Thankfully, a good friend pointed me to truths about my faith. Those truths changed my life and behavior.] <br /><br />Jennifer and I are passionate about identifying the lessons from our journey and becoming what God has intended for us to be. I have learned that through our storm we can accomplish great things – not for ourselves but for one much greater. Ultimately, when we embrace this and make it our practice, many are served – way beyond our own capabilities. I don’t quite understand it all – but catch glimpses of it in the random stories we hear about of lives changed because of our loss and response to it. Tens of thousands of letters and email have flooded our home with powerful examples of this. From medical professionals to politicians, corporate CEO’s to Hollywood stars and all of us “regular” people, we hear of something special that stands out about this journey that impacts hearts from every walk of life. Many have commented on our strength. While we are encouraged by the inference, we realize that it is less about our strength and more about our dependence. At no point has our strength gotten us anywhere. Quite frankly, this has been the weakest time of our lives – full of hurt, pain, disappointment and frustration. Still, we are blessed beyond words and have found great joy in serving through this pain. <br /><br />There is so much I want to share about this – but find my mind and heart distracted. We have been honored to serve many families over the past few years that are experiencing childhood cancer – and many who are caring for a child approaching end of life. It has been a challenging journey as we have set course to organize this effort and help families across the country. We given everything we have to this and in light of the economy have grown a bit discouraged. Then I met Hannah.<br /><br />A few weeks ago, a friend of mine introduced me to a family from Arkansas on Facebook. I learned that this family has two beautiful teen daughters – one of which was diagnosed with brain cancer. We reached out to her family, and quickly discovered that they were very special people! As I learned more about this family, I read a story of how their oldest daughter, Hannah experienced a life-changing time at a church youth conference a little more than a year ago. The speaker shared that God uses storms in our life to bring us close to Him and others closer to God. She prayed that she would experience a storm to do just that. Not long after, she was diagnosed with glioblastoma – a very difficult and deadly brain cancer. Hannah’s approach to her diagnosis was one of clear focus. She had the grace to realize that her battle was scary and painful while at the same time riddled with opportunity to serve God. She seized the opportunities with courage. Her family too has a mindset that recognizes that while personal storms cost us greatly, they can also return great things. <br /><br />A few hours ago, Hannah passed away – not to worry though, she is better now. And while her parents begin to take this new part of the journey in, I sense they realize that the wake of Hannah’s storm is just beginning to reach shore. Good for you, Hannah. Good for you!tommybhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15921095136368083095noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8563380097377772203.post-61114517382184947802009-02-25T12:29:00.003-06:002009-02-25T12:30:35.825-06:00The Perfect StormIt amazes me that even in this age of technology and great understanding that devastating storms appear with little warning. The details and depth of impact are not realized until we experience it first hand, in real time. It seems the only thing you can predict is that human response will be remarkable. We often see the very best of and very worst of people in the wake of a great storm. In recent history, Hurricane Katrina demonstrated this well. No one will forget the painful images of men and women unnecessarily looting, vandalizing and assaulting one another after that great storm. On the other hand, the powerful videos of “average joes” risking their own lives to save a neighbor, opening homes and businesses to strangers needing shelter, and leaving stable careers to launch rebuilding programs for the thousands of refugees. Either extreme is remarkable in and of itself and leaves a wake of great impact.<br /><br />Sometimes storms are not made up of rain, wind and lightening – sometimes storms are made up of circumstances that are very personal – and today is a pointed reminder of a storm that my family faced when our son, Ben died of cancer. It has been four years since we laid beside him in our bed, listening to Disney lullaby music , taking in every scent, touch and sound that he made. The ugliness of the cancer in his body was extreme – pain so great that we began to pray for the worst thing a parent could fathom – that God take him away. Those who share in our faith might wonder why that is the “worst thing” – that Heaven is a better place – but something inside me still longs for my son to be here with Jennifer and I. This is a difficult thing to explain – because without hesitation, I know Ben is enjoying things we can only imagine. The conditioned Christian response that he is in a better place doesn’t connect with the daddy in me that hungers to care and provide for my children. I know that someday, when I am there with him, that innate hunger will be satisfied and I will finally “get it”. God promised it.<br /><br />Personal storms may have a lot of spectators, but few experience it. The things that we saw, lives that were changed and impact of each bumpy step of Ben’s journey was carefully connected and orchestrated by God. I mean it. I know this because of the outcome – the evidences that something much bigger was happening through our journey. At times, Jennifer and I were amazed by the way God was using our hurt to accomplish incredible things. This does not mean we were happy about it. This does not mean we were not heartbroken. It does not always make sense, but you know what I’m talking about. After the great loss on 9/11, incredible stories of heroism and hope emerged that inspired a nation like never before. I was there – a part of the horrific recovery work and saw the reality of that day. It was ugly. The things that happened within the boundaries of “ground zero” would eat away at you the rest of your life if you only knew. As great a loss as it was, somehow it drew in a nation and sparked “goodness” like never seen before. <br /><br />Throughout history, there are examples of how incredible “storms” have accomplished great things. For those who experience it first hand, you taste something impossible to explain. You pray for strength to survive the heartache and wisdom to connect the dots and serve God well. For those who were spectators, great inspiration is born. You pray that inspiration sparks change and that you will live life differently because of it.<br /><br /><em>to be continued...</em>tommybhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15921095136368083095noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8563380097377772203.post-36260756998929970372009-01-13T15:32:00.003-06:002009-01-13T15:45:40.652-06:00[Proud daddy moment.]On December 22, we welcomed the latest addition to the Bowen household (that would make #5 if you are counting:) Her name is Emery Reese Bowen (we will call her Emmi). She is a happy baby - no fussing, only eats, sleeps and poops (sometimes more of one than another). Many thanks to those who have expressed well wishes and "fair warnings" about life with a baby girl :) <br /><br />Jennifer is well and the boys are already looking after their sister. I am, once again enamered by this gift - one that I hope to never forget the true value of. Daddy loves you Emmi!tommybhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15921095136368083095noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8563380097377772203.post-69586319248384425692009-01-09T11:57:00.002-06:002009-01-09T12:04:57.256-06:00These pages...Not a day goes by that I don't think about coming to this blog and writing... it is something I love to do - probably something I need to do. It is just that (at least for me) journaling out loud like this forces me to tap thoughts that I think might best be left where they are. I don't want to start getting all Oprahesque on you... maybe I should go drink a pot of coffee after this posting to regain my masculinity :)<br /><br />For the few of you, my friends that check this blog from time to time, know I would value your prayers as I resolve to spend more time here this year thinking out loud and learning a few new things about myself.<br /><br />Managable steps first... I will be back here this weekend.tommybhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15921095136368083095noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8563380097377772203.post-20485576282989780502008-09-22T20:16:00.004-05:002008-09-22T20:55:44.143-05:00Opportunities in EverythingWe are a bit wiped out right now - so forgive the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">brevity</span>. Nate is doing well - doctors said everything went great and that he will be back to normal within the week.<br /><br />We knew that we would be walking into a place full of difficult memories, but were shocked to find that the room they put us in is the exact one we were in with Ben four years ago - where we were told that Ben would soon die. When the nurse walked in to prep Nate for surgery, she gasped as she saw us - she was the same nurse who cared for Ben for his last surgery. What are the odds? This is a very large hospital - spanning blocks in the heart of Memphis. Jennifer and I knew that we had to remain focused on the task at hand - Nate needed our full attention. All the same, in the quiet moments while we waited our minds raced. Why?<br /><br />More later - but I am grateful for the outcome today. I love Nate and am thrilled that he will soon be dancing and shaking his booty to "A Little Bit More". (Yes, I will post a video of this one!)tommybhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15921095136368083095noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8563380097377772203.post-33309161599288643952008-09-21T21:28:00.002-05:002008-09-21T21:50:41.542-05:00A Bit of UnrestEarly tomorrow morning, my wife and I will take our 3rd son (Nate) to a local <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">children's</span> hospital for a surgery. While it is not a critical issue - and we have experienced much more complex circumstances with Ben - our heart is heavy this evening. No parent feels comfortable sending a child off to a surgery - and to give up control to complete strangers. We certainly would value your prayers tomorrow and over the next few days as he recovers.<br /><br />While this is a scheduled surgery - the rush of emotions is far from planned. This is the same hospital Ben endured two very difficult brain surgeries. We will be in the same surgical unit and same waiting area that we were surprized to learn that "it was over" that we should "pack up and take Ben home to die". Jennifer and I remember that day by the minute with such clarity and to walk back through those very doors tomorrow morning will seem like walking back in time. Even writing these words tonight causes my heart to race, a sick feeling to my stomach and a urgent sense of loss for my little boy.<br /><br />I must remain focused for my family - so I will stop here. Please pray for us - for Nate to feel peaceful and be OK, for his brothers not to worry and for us as parents. I am sure you can imagine what is racing through our minds tonight.<br /><br />I will post an update tomorrow night. Good night all.tommybhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15921095136368083095noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8563380097377772203.post-21415671615645384112008-09-17T14:15:00.007-05:002008-09-17T14:47:25.040-05:00Taking CoverFear has a strange way of impacting every part of life. Mostly because it does so without notice - and catches a person unaware. In my attempt to avoid "triggers" that took my mind down ugly paths, I would change bits and pieces of my routine to mitigate risk. I would <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">preplan</span> a story of my time on duty at the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">WTC</span> - because people would often have <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">legitimate</span> questions about my work there (or some were just inappropriately nosey.) This orchestrated script would allow me to protect my mind and heart from places I did not want to go. I would avoid certain parts of the grocery store, construction sites (often driving blocks out of the way to not go near the new development at Marshall University) and large malls or buildings. If I had to go in a large structure with lots of people, I would identify exactly where the exits were (and how many paces to get there), structurally safe points to position myself and my family and so on. No one ever knew that I took these measures (although my wife had a clue - she always does:)<br /><br />When my "extra measures" didn't ease the terror dreams at night, I would stay up as late as possible - on the brink of passing out from exhaustion - and hope I wouldn't reach a dream state. My acts of desperation to fix myself failed every step of the way. Even so, I pressed on not knowing what else to do.<br /><br />The lack of rest and my hyper-alert state <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">eventually</span> wore on my physical condition and exhaustion set in. As my son, Nate would say, I became a "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">grumbly</span> bear" (although Jennifer probably has another name for it.) I didn't talk with Jennifer - about anything. My son, Elijah was - well, I don't really know. I was too out of it to remember anything about him or that time. Not long after I returned home from my work in NYC, I learned we were expecting again - another baby boy was on the way.tommybhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15921095136368083095noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8563380097377772203.post-7853290182502348602008-09-12T12:14:00.015-05:002008-09-17T21:29:21.021-05:009.11b<span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>Business as usual.</strong></span><br /><br /><br /><span style="color:#cccccc;">I have witnessed many tragic situations - including death when I served with my county fire department back home. Some very graphic. Somehow, the ability to spring back from these calls came easy to me - I would go, do my job and come home to my family and resume a normal routine. I think that was true for most I worked with. I assumed that my time spent at the WTC following the attacks would be the same.<br /><br />I find myself retyping this paragraph over and over because I don't know where to start. The scope of the disaster (on every front) is impossible to articulate. Fear like I have never experienced before, pain like I have never seen and the knowledge that these people were just like you and I - going to through the motions of an average day. The weight of this experience, without notice somehow faded to black in my mind and heart. I wasn't sure what to do with it - so BSing my way through it seemed like the right thing to do - after all, I had a family at home where life was "as usual" that I needed to blend back in to.<br /></span><span style="font-size:0;"></span><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">Checked out</span></strong> <span style="font-size:78%;">Added 9/15</span><br /><br />The dreams were like no other. I am not even sure they were dreams - I could smell, taste and hear as if it was absolutely real time. It seemed like a rerun of the same scene over and over and over. I was assisting with the recovery of some firefighters that were killed in the stairwell of Tower 1. The terrain was extremely rough, hot from fires below and the smell was horrific. The environment was especially hazardous - but the resolve to bring home these heroes was steadfast. As the heavy equipment would pull the stairway up, it unfolded like an accordian, revealing the ultimate sacrifice of these 13 men. We navigated into the hole created by the machinery and carefully worked to free each man. I remember one of the engineers commenting that if one of us fell into one of the crevices that we would be vaporized by the heat of the fire still buring deep in the rubble. It was an emotional scene, especially for FDNY as it had been some time since they recovered some of their own and to do so in this manner was particularly devastating. Rudy Giuliani (without cameras and press) arrived and briskly navigated his way across the pile to where we were - it took his security team some time to catch up. He dug in and helped - nice suit and all. After every man was recoverd, I ran back to the the on-site morgue on Vessey Street to gather another U.S. flag (we were one short) to place over one of the firemen. A few words were shared by Mr. Giuliani, I shared a prayer and one at a time, the deceased were loaded on to Gators and carefully brought out to a waiting ambulance. Word always traveled fast that a rescue worker was being brought out. Every thing stood still - and every person stood at attention until his/her remains were led offsite via police escort. It was always a breathtaking experience - a moment to soak in what this man or woman did to help save others. A moment to pray for the spouse and children left behind. (My mind would always race to the dozens of wives and children I spent time with that would stop by the firehouses looking for information about their husband or daddy. Have they been found?)<br /><br />Somehow though, my dream would take terrible twists, seeing my oldest son, Elijah buried in the rubble, or my wife, Jennifer mangled in the steel. The dreams were so real. At times, I would race through the house trying to "rush to their aid" in a terror dream state. When I would wake up, my heart would be pounding so hard that I was sure I was about to have a heart attack. These dreams seemed to be exacerbated by earlier visits to the grocery store (the odors from the meat department) or driving by a construction vehicle in reverse when the "beep-beep-beep" alert was sounding. I had entered a whole new world - and fear dictated.<br /><br /><br /><span style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="color:#000000;"><br /><br /></span><span style="color:#cccccc;"></span>tommybhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15921095136368083095noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8563380097377772203.post-73265817635593299742008-09-11T20:22:00.005-05:002008-09-12T12:09:32.293-05:009.11<strong><span style="font-size:130%;">Eyes wide open.</span></strong><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO5-c1_7BeUorE3wXAwJCcJHtt2iIbrOzLTNxRwWEKQr3PcMnJf7U068UZTKgSYukV-f2AiBvLiNh1rinTZQU3x20Mv-68sx-FZI7XNJQ26Dtm3PXW5tRcxdSlPanwBzYaJYmdpclilac/s1600-h/newwtcpics2.gif"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5245177651893277554" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 232px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 169px" height="247" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO5-c1_7BeUorE3wXAwJCcJHtt2iIbrOzLTNxRwWEKQr3PcMnJf7U068UZTKgSYukV-f2AiBvLiNh1rinTZQU3x20Mv-68sx-FZI7XNJQ26Dtm3PXW5tRcxdSlPanwBzYaJYmdpclilac/s400/newwtcpics2.gif" width="377" border="0" /></a><br />While serving on the search and recovery teams at the World Trade Center following the 9/11 terrorist attacks the phrase "keep your eyes wide open" took on new meaning. Of course, the obvious was true - there were many hazards to be mindful of as we navigated the 12 acre or so plot of land where the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">WTC</span> complex once stood. But beyond the obvious were physical and personal hazards that were yet to be "seen".<br /><br /><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">Eyes wide shut.</span><br /></strong><br />It was early in the week - a day that changed my life and perspective about faith and real life. On the way into the pile that morning, I passed dozens of small businesses deeply impacted by the attack - all on the outside of the "ground zero" fence and security. They were working feverishly to clean up and pull their business together. My heart broke for them - many of them looked broken in every way. As I neared the site, I noticed a band of ministries gathering around the entrance point at Chambers Street and the West Side Highway. Being a Christian myself, I was intrigued by what they were doing. For a moment, I was proud to see faith in action but within moments, realized the action was nothing to be proud of. Since access to the disaster site was limited, very few non-emergency responders/officials were granted access and many of these groups were visibly frustrated that they could not enter. One small group of ministers/leaders were talking about a march to city hall to complain about being left out. As they left the check point, they "marched" past many opportunities to minister to people in need. My heart sunk as many of the recovery workers joked about these ministries (many I am sure had the best intentions) because they missed the real ground zero all around them - opportunities to help people in desperate need.<br /><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">How a circle of hope begins.</span><br /></strong><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUjOQwLUW9A8YRbhmh-GdaLU4OezS8miYkfPUP-A8B_Qe1H4xGFusSxDQGnDukKfnZELSXKk6kJkruhSfnv1lydnd7T-Dm5cTCSHQpdiOFleIXjR7a3mYtzaLfxxQ6pNzO0AU92Qv6NMc/s1600-h/Family+pictures+1019.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5245177356578758066" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="186" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUjOQwLUW9A8YRbhmh-GdaLU4OezS8miYkfPUP-A8B_Qe1H4xGFusSxDQGnDukKfnZELSXKk6kJkruhSfnv1lydnd7T-Dm5cTCSHQpdiOFleIXjR7a3mYtzaLfxxQ6pNzO0AU92Qv6NMc/s400/Family+pictures+1019.jpg" width="242" border="0" /></a>It was a sunny day, about a week into the recovery when our team found a man loosely buried in the debris. We brought him over to an area that was somewhat clear, under a concrete pillar <span style="font-size:78%;">(see photo to right)</span> that once supported the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">aerial</span> walkway to the American Express building across the West Side Highway. It was rare to find identification with a victim, so to do so with him was quite a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">surprise</span>. There was a photo of Matthew with his wife and three kids. An ID from Cantor Fitzgerald told us he was probably on the 94<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">th</span> floor - above the impact zone. I was deeply impacted by Matthew - and in the moment decided to lead a prayer for his family before he was removed from the site.<br /><br />It was eight months to the day from September 11 that I received a phone call from one of Matthew's family members. She asked several factual questions about Matthew and the recovery then, as if we had known each other for years, we talked for a long while. In the years that followed our families grew to know each other - and were drawn quite close. I shared 9/11 anniversaries with them, great dinners and fantastic wine (Matthew enjoyed making wine.) I was inspired by Matthew's wife, who was strong and determined to support her children - to do whatever it took to survive and lead her children to become successful in whatever they do. She was (and is) a great example to me. I had no idea that in a few short years, my wife and I would face our own personal <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">tragedy</span> and that our journey with Matthew's family would play such an important role.<br /><br />I will share more tomorrow - my mind and heart is heavy tonight. To Matthew's family, the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Cangiolosi</span> family and the thousands that lost loved ones seven years ago - my prayers are with you tonight. God bless.<br /><br />tomtommybhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15921095136368083095noreply@blogger.com3