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patterns of ink

How fruitless to be ever thinking yet never embrace a thought... to have the power to believe and believe it's all for naught. I, too, have reckoned time and truth (content to wonder if not think) in metaphors and meaning and endless patterns of ink. Perhaps a few may find their way to the world where others live, sharing not just thoughts I've gathered but those I wish to give. Tom Kapanka

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Location: Lake Michigan Shoreline, Midwest, United States

By Grace, I'm a follower of Christ. By day, I'm a recently retired school administrator; by night (and always), I'm a husband and father (and now a grandfather); and by week's end, I sometimes find myself writing or reading in this space. Feel free to join in the dialogue.

Tuesday, December 31, 2019

A Thank You from Kathy and Jack

I am writing this post for my sister Kathy and brother-in-law Jack because they are still at a loss for words to express their heart-felt gratitude and "a peace that passes understanding" as they process the events of this week. Thank you for your continued prayers.

For 40 years, hundreds of people have known a home on Sass Road that resembled the classic colonial dwelling of the Jo March in Little Women, one of my sister's favorite books/movies since childhood. For Kathy's family and friends and four brothers and their kids, the stories of that home (and the home deeper in the woods) is full of unforgettable memories.

Sometimes the roles of life are reversed and the people who are always there to lend a hand or offer hope or transfuse courage in the face of fear are suddenly the ones in need. Saturday night (December 28, 2019) this happened to Kathy and Jack as they stood on their lawn behind a line of fire-fighters and news reporters* and watched in disbelief as the home they built forty years ago fell floor by floor in flames.

The pictures below tell the short story. I say short because it was less than three hours from the time the fire trucks arrived until the final flames were doused and Jack began handing out bottled water from the rescued garage to the crews of the five-alarm response.






That is the short and tragic story. The longer story now begins. Too soon it seems to know what's next but not to soon for the disbelief of Saturday night to be replaced by belief and faith and family and friends. This post is to all of you who have reached out to them in various ways.

When two people who are "givers" find themselves on the receiving side of help, it is possible to be so deeply moved by the outpouring of love from so many friends (and strangers) that they are simply overcome by humble gratitude. Eyes blur with held-back tears each time they share the things you all have done and are doing. Voices crack with each thank you they whisper face to face. They are overwhelmed by the many kindnesses from afar and by the thought that there is no way to properly thank so many. And so I am writing this post.

Tonight is New Year's Eve. It is not unusual for Kathy and Jack to be at our home in west Michigan for this evening, and this was true this year. In light of the fire, it may seem strange for them to make this 3+ hours trip, but having now spent a day together, it wasn't strange at all. This is a very familiar place. Old movies are on the TV, familiar Christmas decorations are still all around, a small fire safely flickers in the fireplace. What could be more normal... and more surreal?

As I write, my wife and Kathy are out shopping for necessities, the burden of which has been greatly lightened by many of you. This morning Jack and I did the same. He needed a pair of winter gloves, a pair of jeans, winter cap, phone chargers, toiletry bag, etc.--all things he had three days ago. It is a very practical and therapeutic process to have the most basic needs made more possible by thoughtful friends. Last night, one brought over a portable hanging file with home office supplies to begin the unimaginable paperwork required during such times.

As I sat at the breakfast table with Kathy this morning, more phone calls and texts came in: gift cards, e-cards, cash and checks--prayers and reminiscent notes from life-long friends.

I simply said to my sister, "This reminds me of that scene at the end of "It's a Wonderful Life" when the whole town hears of the crisis and comes in the living room with that laundry basket full of blessings." And with nothing more than that image, Kathy bit her lip and tears flowed. I did the same.  "That's... exactly how...it feels," she slowly said, "God is so good." And then she added, "Remember the note in the book at the end? 'No man is a failure who has friends."

I know some of you personally, but many of you I know only through my sister's accounts. I do know this, however: you are in this picture. It spans generations in a timeless tableau. If you blur your eyes just a bit as Kathy and Jack's blur when they think of you, maybe you can see yourself there in George Bailey's living room. You have shared the same cup of kindness in a time of need.


And since it's New Year's Eve, and since never in my life have the words to "Auld Lang Syne" been more true... Here's wishing all of you a wonderful life in 2020.


Thank you all,
Kathy's brother, Tom Kapanka

© Tom Kapanka, Janyary 1, 2020: 168620
*CLICK HERE to see just one of the Metro Area news reports from three nights ago.

Added January 2: CLICK HERE for a related post called "Three Days after Christmas" which provides more context for close family and friends.

7 Comments:

Blogger Unknown said...

This was absolutely beautiful. Thank you!

1/1/20 9:54 AM  
Anonymous Penny Miller Rorah said...

Thank you, Tom, for this beautiful Thank You note on behalf of Kathy and Jack. "It's A Wonderful Life" is my favorite movie. Even though I've seen it over and over I still get teary eyed over and over, just like I did while reading this beautiful Thank You note. :) I would hope you remember me from Calvary Baptist Church of Roseville. You were, of course, younger then. The kids at church called me "Aunt Penny." Penny Miller Rorah (and Ron Rorah)

1/1/20 1:37 PM  
Blogger .Tom Kapanka said...

Kristen,
We don't know each other directly, but my sister and were still up at 5:00AM after ringing in the new year. Everything was lost in the fire including Kathy's laptop. On the way here Tuesday, Jack bot her a replacement and set it up for her. So she was reading all the emails and FB messages she had missed since Saturday night. It was then I learned of you and all the other friends from that "era" and how some of you have reconnected through Metro Parkway Christian. I love that because my wife and I have been in Christian education for 40 years.
It has been a wonderful blessing for Kathy and Jack to hear from so so many people with whom they have shared life for all these years.

Penny, Of course I remember you! I can see your face even now as we visited so often in the vestibule at Calvary. Since my current school of 20 years is also called Calvary, I should add "Roseville"... I never started FB but I have been writing here for many years. If you ever browse through these posts you will see some stories about Calvary of Roseville. Here are two light-hearted ones.

http://patternsofink.blogspot.com/2005/11/dream-pony_113323679281947396.html

http://patternsofink.blogspot.com/2006/02/call-to-arms.html

Thank you all for helping Kath and Jack during this time of loss.

1/1/20 2:31 PM  
Anonymous MR-MRS WILLIAM STODDARD said...

It is impossible to read Kathy's comments followed by you beautifully written Thank You on their behalf without moist eyes ready to spill over into tears. Our hearts were deeply pierced with the news of their loss in Sunday School last Sunday (Bethesda). This sterling couple we've come to know, respect and love deeply have touched our lives in many ways....and we join with the myriad of others who hold them and their needs before our Heavenly Father. I can only imagine the depth of their loss but am comforted by the knowledge that many will come along side during the process of restoration and rebuilding yet ahead. May God continue to bless them and YOU and your loved ones as well.
Elaine and Bill Stoddard

2/1/20 5:12 PM  
Anonymous Tom said...

Thank you, Elaine and Bill.
Kathy and Jack just left our home to head back to the east side of the state. It has been a wonderful, practical, and cathartic time. They are very busy with the unfolding realities of this event. Continue to pray. We are so thankful for their network of friends from yours and our childhood church. Today I wrote another follow up post called "Three Days after Christmas," I will let Kathy decide whether or not to share it beyond our family, but I do think it helps provide an understanding of why your kind words are so true.

2/1/20 6:39 PM  
Blogger Ben D said...

Uncle Tom. So good to read your writing, always! Thank you for hosting my parents, and for always being a great encouragement to the family. You bless me!

3/1/20 8:33 PM  
Blogger Patters of Ink, Tom Kapanka said...

Ben,
It's been too long since we've seen all of you over there. We will fix that soon. Your children have been a source of strength and "child-like faith" to your mom and dad. I was touched by what you wrote on FB about your memories from the spaces no longer enclosed by familiar walls.
In that second post with all the links and back-stories, I mention the stranger going down the driveway to the house deeper in the woods. You know that is your Grandma and Grandpa's house. The link at that part is
https://patternsofink.blogspot.com/search?q=the+path+was+started+long+ago

At that link I talk about a little house--a small cabin really--that used to stand between your house and Grandma's long before we purchased the land in 1968. Oddly, I end that old post with these words (talking about the cabin that is no longer there):
"Why insert this quirky flashback at this point in the story?
.
I guess because its significance did not hit me until I began writing this chapter.
.
First, the old well hints at a truth we sometimes forget: the "house" part of "home" is an earthly, passing thing. I don't like the thought, but it's as true of the house my family built as it was the old place we found remnants of that day in '68. Houses sometimes disappear. The good news is that, conversely, the "home" part of a house can endure long after it’s gone."
Love ya, Ben...

6/1/20 9:19 AM  

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