Friends.
I need to share sad news.

My daughter Lexi passed away yesterday. It was surprising but not unexpected. Some of you know that Lexi’s been dealing with severe digestive issues that had her in the hospital for almost three weeks. Though the presenting problem was “fixed”, she went home with other challenges that got progressively worse. On Monday we took her to the doctor for what we thought would be a simple bronchitis/pneumonia treatment after one of her teachers said that she sounded pretty miserable. From there, she quickly descended. Or, in this case, ascended to the arms of Jesus.

Her last days few by quickly enough that doctor/nurse who predicted her outcome utter total shock. We’re shocked, too. Thankfully, the night before she passed, Lexi had some quality time with her brothers, her mom (Brittany), and I. It was especially helpful to have B’s mom there, a savvy nurse who’s seen it all and helped us understand the gravity and complexity of Lexi’s situation.

My prayer was that Jesus would fix it here, and, but if it meant a lifetime of additional severe suffering, to fix it there. See? He’s still God because I gave Him options (wink). He answered that prayer by giving her the best life she could’ve had right up to the moment she passed. Minutes before she passed, Nana Karen sang all Lexi’s favorites to her — Itsy Bitsy Spider, Head and Shoulders, Twinkle Twinkle, and, of course, her absolute favorite: Wheels on the Bus (with ALL the verses).

The wheels go ’round and ’round, the people go up and down, and the Lexi’s on the bus blow raspberries. All through the town.

There’s so much more to say, but we’re still reeling and processing. The few that were in the know have been very kind and supportive. Lots of love, lots of prayer, lots of reminders that our faith is in Christ (1 Thessalonians 4) and that we grieve within the parenthesis of hope. I’m no studied theologian, just a husky pastor, but I do know that Lexi is with Jesus and with those who knew her and left far too early as well. There’s quite a reunion going on right now. I smile through tears as I say this.

Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.

That night before she died, I was rounding up her brothers after a beautiful/sad visit to head home for the night and try to sleep. Brittany stayed by her side the entire time, advocating for and loving her in a way that I can’t even begin to articulate. It was difficult to leave, but B and I were in a divide-and-conquer situation of parenting in two different orbs. When it was time to go, I whispered in Lexi’s ear that the next conversation she and I would have would be in full English, where we understood each other in a way we haven’t been able to yet. I said “you and I have a lot to talk about, and I can’t wait. I love you, bear.”

I didn’t know she would be gone hours later. None of us did.

So here we are. A celebration of life is in the works. Though I plan on sitting next to my wife for that service, I already have plans to lead a crowd sing along of Lexi songs. If she ever interacted with you, no doubt she asked you to sing. Perhaps forcefully so, not being one to take NO for an answer. If you said “I don’t have a good voice, you don’t want to hear me sing…” she’d dismiss that lie and implore you to proceed. She was no Simon Cowell, she never vetoed a soul, and, if I know my daughter, expects that you’ll sing it again. For her.

The lyrics will be on the screen. No excuses!

Thanks for your continued prayer for my family. We’ve experienced a lot of loss. It’s confusingly bittersweet to know that she’s gone from here but in far better shape. All the limitations and challenges she knew are graciously lifted. The day will come when Lexi and I can pick up right where we left off, though I bet she’ll have some worship songs in the mix too. Can you imagine what she sees right now?

I love you, Lexi. Thank you for teaching me so much. I’m so glad I got to be your dad.

I’ll miss you. See you soon.