Evan Joseph Kreider and the Little Bird, with video tribute

I am the visitation pastor at my church so I get to talk to a lot of people.  Many of these individuals are older and therefore don't drive, have various medical problems, and tend to frequent the hospital more than younger folks.  I am deeply affected when the pass away because I have gotten to know them and formed close bonds with them, but there is often still the feeling that even though death has taken them and they leave holes in my heart, generally they have all lived good lives and for the most part, there are no regrets.  The same cannot be said when a young person dies.

Evan Joseph Kreider was 5 years plus 12 days old when he crossed over on Tuesday, just 5 days ago.  When a child crosses over there is no feeling of, "Well, he (or she) lived a good life."  For that child, life has just begun.  There is no satisfaction to be had from their long life because they never got the chance to live one.

Two years ago, Evan was diagnosed with DIPG (Diffuse Intrinsic Pontine Glioma), a cancer that invades the brain stem and hits little children, kids who are just beginning their lives.  There is no cure for DIPG - it is a death sentence.  But Evan was fortunate because he had an incredibly loving family who refused to give in to the cancer and who was also determined to give Evan the most that life could offer him, just in case he could not beat his cancer.  There are many aspects of both of these things that I don't know much about but I know the fight was a good one, and Evan outlived the predictions of his impending death by more than a few months, experiencing, outside of his treatments, quite a ride along the way.  

I was working at the church when Evan was born so I've known him his whole life.  He was an adorably cute kid with a totally infectious smile.  I used to play "peek a boo" with him but, unfortunately for me, that translated into always hiding his face from me even as he grew older, especially when I had my camera in hand.  In most of the photos I have of him, unless I was hiding from him or using a telephoto lens, he is peeking out at me from behind his fingers.

His mom called him Little Man at times and that's pretty much how I think of him, a little man in kids clothing, fighting his cancer with the strength of one much older, yet remaining totally a little boy, mischievous, rambunctious, full of life and grinning all the time.  His grin always melted my heart.   

Evan's funeral was a celebration of life, yet I was filled with devastating sadness.  Although I had seen Evan's struggle for life in the hours preceding his death and knew he was now at peace, I wondered where that mischievous little boy with all the energy of an F-16 in full afterburners was?  I knew he was with the Lord, but I wondered if he knew how everyone, especially his family, loved him, missed him, and was mourning his passing.  

After church today I went to the Vacation Bible School picnic.  I didn't feel like it but wanted to take some pictures of it for the church, and also wanted to snap a few shots of the youth team leaving for a missions trip.  As I started for home, I decided to ride past Evan's grave.  I rode up around the church, parked my motorcycle and crying, went and knelt by the flowers covering the spot where, just yesterday, he was laid to rest.  I was there for a short time.  The breeze was blowing and every once in a while the clouds spritzed rain, but it felt good.  I took off my helmet, laid my jacket on the ground, and lay on my back, two feet on the ground and knees bent, right beside the flowers.  It was a comfortable position, so I remained there for a time, praying, thinking about Evan, wondering where he was now, what he might be experiencing, and wondering what a 5 year old does in heaven.  

I felt something odd, laying there, kind of like when it is hot out and your jeans stick to you because you are sweaty, and then give.  I thought, "it's not that hot out," and didn't think too much of it, until I felt it again. It felt like someone touching me, though I had not heard anything unusual and did not think anyone was near.  I opened my eyes and saw a bird perched on my right knee.  As soon as I looked at it, it flew away.  And I simply thought, "That was odd, but totally amazing."

I've been visiting cemeteries for 52 years...I've run in them, walked in them, stood, sat, lay, talked, sung, whispered, reminisced, napped and prayed in them.  I grew up running around outside, climbing, running, digging, snoozing, and continue to love being outside, sitting silently and unmoving while a perfect photographic opportunity manifests itself.  Never once, in  a cemetery or anywhere else, has a bird perched on me.  Only today. 

I tell people all the time to look for signs that a departed loved one is near them but I'm not sure I've ever experience it myself.  Nevertheless, I believe that our loved ones do not simply cross over, never to be bothered with us again.  Paul says that love continues, that love never dies.  I believe that love ties us together in this world, ties us together in the next, and ties both worlds together.  I believe our loved ones look in on us from time to time and know what is happening in our lives.  It may not be biblical, but it is what I believe.  I believe in the power of God, who controls both the seen and the unseen, as well as the power of love, and that because of these we can do amazing things and be witness to things even more wonderous.  I believe that our connections with one another, through God's love, may even allow those who have crossed over to send signs to those who remain behind, if we are looking for them.  Like Paul said, love never dies.  And all things are possible through God.

The scientifically minded skeptic in me could explain this bird coming to perch on my knee.  I wasn't moving much, my knee was softer than a tombstone, and like a typical bird, it flew away as soon as I moved.  But the mystical part of me sees things differently.  I don't look like a tombstone and I move frequently.  And the bird flew away when I looked at it, just like Evan always did when I looked at him.  Coincidence?  Perhaps.

Why has a bird never alighted on me before?  Maybe because I never mourned the passing of a mischievous little 5 year old boy before, who like this bird, alighted in my life for so short a time.  You may choose to call it coincidence but I choose to believe in the power of love that can surmount all odds to tell us, "Yes, I am still here and I will be waiting for you, because love cannot keep us apart."  I choose to believe that a bird can be used as an instrument of God's peace with the understanding that, as the sparrows, we are all seen by a God who loves us, cares for us, and is concerned when we are mourning.    God's worlds, both the seen and the unseen, are full of wonders, just like the life of a little boy who death could not conquer and who sent a message of life with the help of a little bird.  Oh grave, where is your victory?  Oh death, where is your sting?  

Thank you, Evan.  Thank you for reminding me that death does not have the final say.  Thank you for letting me know that you are still that mischievous soul, who delights in joy and who is cradled in the arms of a loving Creator.  

                                                       ++++
 
Evan means "God is Good."  Joseph means "God will increase."  His parents knew the meanings of those names and that is why they named their little boy  Evan Joseph.  

Below is a video commemorating the life of Evan Joseph Kreider.  Please watch it and with me, give thanks to our loving God for Evan's life and his family's love.  Evan will be missed but never forgotten.  We'll see each other again, Little Man.