Facing Giants and Remembering Daniel

In an odd way, I’m looking forward to today. I want to attack it first-- before it can attack me. We have hurtles we have to overcome today, and a couple of giants to face, but at day’s end I believe we will have more peace.

My prayer for Tom is that he is protected, and surrounded by strength and faith.

I have been asked to publish what I wrote about Dan for the funeral in the news-paper—I think not. But I will share it here with all who would want it.

Elijah Daniel was the strongest Christian name we could find for him. We used to
tell him when he was a baby, “You’re going to be a mighty man of God.”

Our hearts break that we will never see him as a man, or hold his children; so we
seek comfort in the memory of him, the precious gift we had for the last
thirteen years.

Many of you are here because you love Mike and I, and are here to help us bear our burden. You may not have had a chance to know our Danny, so if I may, I would like to give you a glimpse of our Dan through his mother’s eyes.

Danny was a character. He sported a Sylvester-the-Cat style lisp until he was five. This only made his unique observations all the more hilarious. Like when he came walking up to me with his pant pockets pulled out and asked, “Are theseth earsth?”

At times I swore he would create diversions for me so he could get into something, like the time he turned the sink on and made it over flow, while I was cleaning up the
water, he escaped outside.

I remember praying, “Lord, I’m too old for this kind of child!” And the Lord spoke to my heart and said, “You asked for a mighty man of God. Did you think that kind of strength and tenacity came as an adult?”

He loved building trains, planes, rockets and crazy inventions. He drove Tom (brother and room mate) crazy by collecting bags full of bottles, foam plates, tape and glue to make his contraptions, and flying things.

When he was little he built with Brio wooden train tracks.
And amassed a large amount of trains and tracks, and Knex that occupied most of
his childhood, until the day he died, he was not afraid to play like a boy.

He loved fishing, turtles, football, creating armies, and scaring Jamie Henderson in the barn.

He was an inventor, and a writer. His imagination knew no bounds. He loved JRR Tolken’s Lord of the Rings and created entire country. He wrote about its battles, and valiant, courageous leaders. His writing was amazing for his age. His country of The Great Aaralyn had a history and its own heroes—it was to be his first novel.


His inventions were nothing if not imaginative. Last Christmas he needed to save
money to buy presents, so he rolled up his money and attached it to a mouse
trap. That was Dan’s idea of a money clip.

I love to share the story about the airplane he and Tom built together. Made solid with 2x4’s and a 5 foot wingspan complete with a pilot seat—it was awesome. Just couldn’t figure out how to make it fly. Then he figured out a way. He said, “Hey mom, can we get a coffee can and fill it up with gas? We could just drop a match on it to make it go!”

To this day I’m not sure if it was the airplane he wanted to get going or me.

I believe his last creation was a smaller wooden airplane. Complete with a Raid can fastened on the bottom. He would fly it through the yard and bomb swarms of knats.
He wanted to be a fighter pilot, he loved the civil air patrol and hoped to go to the Air Force Academy in Colorado.

Looking back I can honestly say I had only three complaints about Dan, he was never in a hurry, he would get too quiet and sulk, and he attracted girls everywhere he went.

That boy had an entourage of girls everywhere he went. It didn’t take us long to figure out that Dan wasn’t going to the pool to swim. If we lost him in a crowd at the pool, park or football game, we just looked for the crowd of girls and found him in
the middle.

There was a reason for that. Dan was genuinely sweet. A natural writer, made him good with words, and he had no problem talking with the girls on a real level.

But he was that way with his mother, and his sisters. Hannah would forget to turn off her light at night. So she would call Dan and tell him he forgot to kiss her goodnight. He would jump up come kiss her goodnight, and Hannah would remind him to turn off her light on the way out.

Seldom did a day go by that Dan didn’t tell me he loved me, and was free with his hugs.

Dan made friends everywhere he went. But he had one friend he truly loved, that was closer than a brother—Wesley Henningsen.

We are blessed to have had the rare privilege of having a son, who never gave us grief, and rarely anger. He was a delightful person to be around. His smile is forever etched on our hearts, and our full house will still feel so empty without him.

We take comfort in knowing that he gave his heart to the Lord at age 6, and saw evidence of it everyday.

Mike and I want to thank God for the privilege of giving us this precious son, Danny, even for a short 13 years.