I am honored to stand in this circle of love and courage which surrounds Kyle's memory, Kyle's family, and Kyle's community.

I’ve come to celebrate his light, and his life; to honor his courage and the courage of his family through an attritious* battle
-fought sometimes brilliantly, with great energy and hope, a beacon for others who fight similar battles;
-fought sometimes ‘one day at a time’, moment-by-moment, wielding only surrender, acceptance, and the love and prayers of those who would always love him.

I’ve come to celebrate Kyle's light, to honor it, to remember it, to recall how it reflected (with humor and beauty) in the many lives he touched. Kyle was the "cool kid". He was "super".

I remember a boy full of enthusiasm and energy – building forts of poison sumac on the beach in Elk Rapids…and when the blisters came – he never complained.

I remember an adolescent who, far from home, working to establish some tools for healthy living, sought refuge in a faith that was remarkably strong and viable for one so young.

I remember other’s 'children' sitting in a circle, listening to Kyle share his 'experience, strength, and hope'. I recall the light reflected in their faces, their hearts, as they responded to the young man Kyle had become.

Kyle taught me so many things through the years. Frequently, when I entered a room, boat, gathering -- or adventure-in-progress, Kyle’s smile was the first light to shine across the space and invite me inside. His face would shine with light and possibility. Kyle was as fearless as I was reticent.
He could be as accepting and interested in someone who ‘seemingly’ had nothing in
common with him or to offer him as he could be in one who was his "boon companion".
He could "easily" love people; people responded to this possibility.

As a boy, his was usually the first face I saw when I scanned the room - possibly because I was scanning for just such acceptance and affection.
Acceptance and affection were his bounty.

Poets speak of the eyes as the windows to the soul.
Parents speak of the light they see reflected in the eyes of their children.
Kyle battled with a debilitating disease - a disease which sometimes dimmed the light
in his eyes.
We mourned that dimming by disease.
We so valued the light that had shined.
In recent months, we were so grateful to see the light return.
This was a gift.

Kyle's disease pushed all who loved him to grow a bit more than one had expected to
need to grow.
And when we reached a plateau, our love for Kyle pushed us to grow a bit more.

Kyle’s athletic abilities and value to his "teams" over the years is a given.
He was served by many "life" couches during his journey. Many are here today.
Kyle was uniquely blessed to have Julie, Scott, Cory, and Elise on "his" team.
He knew this.
He loved his family dearly.

Kyle was uniquely blessed to have a family who loved him, accepted him, worked with him
and for him, played with him and treasured him --- in good times and difficult times.
*This is Kyle's family - a family capable, with God's love and yours, to celebrate the gift
of Kyle,
The light, and the love - everlasting.

* Attritious is not a real word, but like your re-definition of Thob, etc – it should be
refers to battle of attrition, wearing away over time – not the catholic definition
which I’ve just discovered to imply ‘imperfect contrition’
** At the church I think I said to congregation ‘You are Kyle’s family’.

Was not included above, but true:
Driving home to Georgia from “Christmas 2007 in Norwalk” - each of us in our
family shared that we wished that we'd spoken more openly and more often of our
truest feelings for Kyle during the holiday. Collectively we were so grateful that
Shafer spoke up for us all when he said at Christmas dinner that Kyle's presence
among us was the greatest gift. He did speak for us all – and it was the greatest gift.