Wednesday night, almost a week ago, my husband and I found ourselves at Niederman Family Farm ugly crying with “strangers”. It was one of those raw, vulnerable moments that makes us human.
We’re all sitting around the barn having a meeting discussing details for the Kyler Strong Fall Jamboree (Nov. 6th) to raise awareness and funds for DIPG cancer research.
I can’t tell Kyler’s story or his family’s story like they can, but I can tell it from my perspective. Kirk and Rebecca lost their 10 year old son April of this year to an aggressive brain tumor called DIPG. Kyler’s family (anyone who has lost a child) now has a burning hole in their hearts. Every lunch unpacked and every dribble of urine that no longer needs cleaned from the bathroom floor is a painful reminder that Kyler is not here…but he is.
If you Google “Kyler Bradley” his story is everywhere on the internet and last Wednesday Kyler’s spirit was at the farm. When people come together for a common goal, community happens. Tangible vulnerability, when you cry with “strangers” happens.
It’s as if each life was an individual note to an individual instrument in the London Symphony Orchestra times billions. Each note gets played for it’s designated amount of time in it’s designated measure and spirals into the air to create massive beauty that you really can’t describe. Our lives are not about us but about the music as a whole. This kind of thing makes me feel small but very much alive.
I am going to call this one of my “God moments”. There are specific and memorable moments in my life where God has revealed his intentions. He intervenes and shows me glimpses of His kingdom here on earth. Parts of the kingdom where we come together as broken human beings and cry together, laugh together, celebrate and worship together. The part where we don’t feel lonely, where we know we failed but it’s okay because everyone does and because Jesus…
I will leave you with links for more information about Kyler.