Finding Joy Without a Lifetime Warranty

by Feb 3, 2016Encouragement, Spiritual Support1 comment

In the fall of 2009, Scott & Penni Newport lost their son & learned that medically fragile kids don't have a lifetime warranty. Even so, Scott finds joy.

Guest blogger Scott Newport and his wife Penni lost their son Evan Newport on Thanksgiving in 2009. That was the day they truly understood that kids who are medically fragile don’t come with a lifetime warranty. Six years after saying good-bye to his son, Scott is learning to find joy in the absence of his son. In today’s post he tells how he does it. As so many of Scott’s posts do, this one comes with a tissue warning.

Lifetime Warranty

Last Sunday from the center stage the pastor professed, “You can’t give it away what you don’t have.”

Earlier, I had written a story about losing something I cherished. I never go to church without my notebook and often write outside the parameters of the sermon. This was one of those occasions. After hearing those seemingly profound words from the pulpit I scribbled this down.

You can’t lose something you don’t have either.

During the sermon I finished writing this story:

“Hey Scott, I thought I lost that, you can have it if you like. You could use it in your wood shop.” As I turned toward Dave he kept on by saying, “Maybe it can help with all the handmade gifts you make for families up at the children’s hospital.”

Dave is a large man and works in the automotive industry. I figured it was a real privilege to receive something he thought was lost forever.

As Dave was still trying to peek over the mound of accumulated stuff he repeated, “Scott, as you can see, I have way too much stuff anyway.”

Even though I didn’t think about it at the time I now realize that losing something you cherish to the clutter of life or losing the ability to own it by giving it away can have two totally different outcomes.

But in the end they are both a loss.

After Dave, the homeowner offered me the gift I glowed with excitement. While still on my knees I kept sifting for other possible lost items. The gift was a well worn ratcheting screw driver. The finely crafted black and silver metallic tool was the ultimate treasure because it was a Snap-On brand which was way out of my price range and comes with a lifetime warranty.

I was at Dave’s house that day installing a new overhead garage door. His building was a bit of a mess, so we had to clean it up first. You know, kids bikes, old exercise equipment and a pile of tipping, floppy cardboard box’s like the one that gave up the screwdriver. There were even two lawn mowers in there and I believe they both worked just fine. After I installed the new overhead door I helped Dave jam everything out on the driveway back into the bloated, one car garage.

Every thing that is minus one screwdriver.

Over the next year I was always excited when I used the screwdriver. The tool’s main use was to install fragile brass screws for delicate hinges. The hinges were for the lids of wooden boxes I had made for kids at C. S. Mott Children’s Hospital. Most were constructed of reclaimed walnut or mahogany and all had a small sliding drawer lined with soft silver cloth. A few were quite large and were given to families who had lost a child.

I call them memory chests.

The best part of the screw driver was it had a glossy black removable end cap holding various types of attachments allowing for different size screws. Unfortunately a couple of years back on a snowy winter morning here in Michigan, I went for the screwdriver. The afternoon before I had applied the final urethane finishes on a couple of the boxes and was ready to install the hardware still protected by tiny clear plastic bags. After searching for about a half hour in all the nooks and crannies in my shop, I gave up and anxiously called one of my co-workers and asked if he had used it.

“No, Scott, I am not sure I even know about that,” Stew said.

“Are you sure?” I begged. “I know you cleaned up the shop last time and maybe you just misplaced it.”

Not only had I lost a screwdriver, I almost lost a friendship I cherished that frigid day.

Because of my son’s terminal illness and the lack of income I couldn’t replace the lost tool. I did finally find another one on sale at Home Depot of lesser quality. It did just fine. We lost our son Evan on Thanksgiving Day to the disease monster at the age of seven. Even though our family still endures the grief, we still cherish the seven years we had because of the doctor’s original prognosis for Evan. “Scott and Penni,” the doctors said, “kids like Evan usually don’t make their second birthday.”

I guess that was his way of explaining Evan’s lifetime warranty.

Now the loss of the tool seems like such a nondescript event. I don’t think I will ever replace the one I have now with another Snap-On, and that’s just fine. Six years after the loss of my boy, Evan, I have still not found a “just fine” replacement for him. I have however found a new mission in life. It is to mentor dads who are in the scary position I was in so many years ago with a sick child.

I have found life within loss.

A gift only Evan could have given me. And that, my friend, is just fine. I believe that truth will carry me through the rest of my life.

When the pastor said, “You can’t give it unless you have it,” he was referring to mentoring. When I wrote, “You can’t lose something if you don’t have it either,” I realized you can sometimes give something special away. But you will have to do it by losing something you may really love.

No matter if it is a fine screwdriver or a son, you will never forget the loss.

I know it’s not a fatherly to compare my son to a tool. It took me much longer to be okay with the loss of a family member. But, the mentoring I do now gives me a joy allowing me to help the next dad who may one day lose his child too.

This joy is a lifetime warranty I will never give up.

Where Do You Find Joy?

Have you lost someone dear? Have you been able to find joy since your loss? Leave a comment about the precious person you lost and how you’ve learned to find joy. We’d love to hear about the person you treasure in your heart.

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By Scott Newport

Scott Newport is a carpenter who has a vision for unwanted, damaged wood. His finds are treasures to his soul. Each discovery he makes unfolds into a beautiful piece of furniture for which he finds a home, usually with a child or caregiver of a child with special needs. He writes about the life lessons he learns from his 3 children, especially from Evan who died in November of 2009 after 7 years of joyful life. To access all of Scott’s guest posts, click on the magnifying glass at the top of the page and type “Scott Newport” in the search box.

1 Comment

  1. Sylvia Phillips

    I’m so glad Scott was able to find joy after losing his precious son. I have no doubt that he is a great comfort to the dads he ministers to! Thanks for sharing at Faith, Hope, and Love!

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