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Ryan Armstrong On The Mind And In The Heart
Posted on 2009.01.08 at 22:19
It is Thursday night approaching 11:00. We are sitting in the Chapman University Law School.
Kennedy Hall.
Thanks to iPhone and MacBook, here it is right now:
It has been impossible for us not to think about Ryan Armstrong every day since December 27 when we learned he had been murdered. We have a lot to say about Ryan, and not enough time or room in this post to say it, so we will merely begin.
Last night we attended the Candle Light Vigil held in his honor inside Chapman's Chapel. The tribute was organized by Ashley Vargus, who told us a story afterward that gave us the chills. More about that in a moment, in a different post, but first we want to say a couple of things about the service last week at Ryan's church in Wildomar, California.
It's the Cornerstone Church:
The three thousand attendees met Ryan's family.
Ryan's father Ron is the founding and senior pastor of Cornerstone. When he spoke he told us he isn't angry, he just wants his baby boy back.
Ryan's mom Debbie is the Early Childhood Director at Cornerstone Church; can you fathom the heartache of a mother who lost her son?
Ross Armstrong, Ryan's younger brother, was the first to speak.
"Ryan was my protector. I miss my protector."
When Ross spoke we saw his pain.
Our heart broke all over again.
We saw the love that was in Ryan.
We saw that Ryan was everyone's friend.
Last night many of those friends gathered in love to honor Ryan in the Candle Light Vigil.
There were three speakers. As planned, Sean Sweetman, Ryan's best friend at Chapman, was the last to go up. More than once he brought us to tears, sniffling his way through his adoring tribute, such was the friendship between the two.
Professor Kevin Mardesich spoke second, majestic and comforting, poised and strong, tall and evocative.
When it was our turn we climbed the steps to center stage.
We placed our bible on the podium.
We held on to each side.
We looked up and faced Ryan's friends.
And then we couldn't speak.
Couldn't do it.
We had planned to start with six words.
Six simple words.
Six words that have played over and over in our head since Ryan's memorial service last week, at his church, Cornerstone, where his father is the pastor.
Six simple words.
We stood helpless and speechless before Ryan's friends last night as we searched for the voice to begin.
Then other words formed in our mouth, a string of words we hadn't rehearsed at all.
They amounted to twelve words not six.
Through our tears and in spite of our snot they burst out of our mouth, there was no reining them in, for these twelve words summarized precisely how we felt in that moment, and they demanded they be heard:
"This is the hardest thing I've ever had to do at Chapman."
(to be continued)
Kennedy Hall.
Thanks to iPhone and MacBook, here it is right now:
It has been impossible for us not to think about Ryan Armstrong every day since December 27 when we learned he had been murdered. We have a lot to say about Ryan, and not enough time or room in this post to say it, so we will merely begin.
Last night we attended the Candle Light Vigil held in his honor inside Chapman's Chapel. The tribute was organized by Ashley Vargus, who told us a story afterward that gave us the chills. More about that in a moment, in a different post, but first we want to say a couple of things about the service last week at Ryan's church in Wildomar, California.
It's the Cornerstone Church:
The three thousand attendees met Ryan's family.
Ryan's father Ron is the founding and senior pastor of Cornerstone. When he spoke he told us he isn't angry, he just wants his baby boy back.
Ryan's mom Debbie is the Early Childhood Director at Cornerstone Church; can you fathom the heartache of a mother who lost her son?
Ross Armstrong, Ryan's younger brother, was the first to speak.
"Ryan was my protector. I miss my protector."
When Ross spoke we saw his pain.
Our heart broke all over again.
We saw the love that was in Ryan.
We saw that Ryan was everyone's friend.
Last night many of those friends gathered in love to honor Ryan in the Candle Light Vigil.
There were three speakers. As planned, Sean Sweetman, Ryan's best friend at Chapman, was the last to go up. More than once he brought us to tears, sniffling his way through his adoring tribute, such was the friendship between the two.
Professor Kevin Mardesich spoke second, majestic and comforting, poised and strong, tall and evocative.
When it was our turn we climbed the steps to center stage.
We placed our bible on the podium.
We held on to each side.
We looked up and faced Ryan's friends.
And then we couldn't speak.
Couldn't do it.
We had planned to start with six words.
Six simple words.
Six words that have played over and over in our head since Ryan's memorial service last week, at his church, Cornerstone, where his father is the pastor.
Six simple words.
We stood helpless and speechless before Ryan's friends last night as we searched for the voice to begin.
Then other words formed in our mouth, a string of words we hadn't rehearsed at all.
They amounted to twelve words not six.
Through our tears and in spite of our snot they burst out of our mouth, there was no reining them in, for these twelve words summarized precisely how we felt in that moment, and they demanded they be heard:
"This is the hardest thing I've ever had to do at Chapman."
(to be continued)