The Sacred Acre

by Mark Tabb

  Jan responded, “Give the Beckers all the time they need.”

  The morning of the funeral, Aaron got up early and went for a run. Running gave him time to think and to recharge himself for what he knew would be one of the hardest days of his life. A couple of days earlier, he had gone for a run like this when he sensed something he had never really sensed before. He felt God speaking to him, telling him that he needed to speak at the funeral. At first he tried to shove this aside, but he couldn’t. Finally, he told the Lord, All right. I’ll speak. Next Sunday I’ll ask Pastor to let me have a couple of minutes in the service.

  On his run on the morning of the funeral, Aaron sensed that same feeling again. Once again, God spoke, telling Aaron that he needed to speak. OK, God. I will. Next Sunday. In front of the entire church. I’ll do it. Even as he prayed this, he knew deep down that this feeling had nothing to do with the following Sunday.

  He ran harder and tried to clear his head. He ran down by the cemetery. His father’s grave site was ready. The hole had been dug, and the tent over the site was in place. From the cemetery he turned and ran over toward the church. The police had put up barricades, making the street in front of the church one way to help the flow of traffic. They had also roped off the front of the church to keep the press from coming onto the church grounds. A designated media area was set up directly across the street. Camera crews from CNN, ESPN, and all the local television stations would soon fill the space.

  Aaron continued running. As he ran past the church, he glanced at his watch. 8:00 a.m. The funeral was still two and a half hours away, yet people had already started lining up for one of the “first come, first served” closed-circuit-television seats in the church.

  Ed may have written out much of what he wanted in his funeral ahead of time, but the service deviated from his script in one important way: it lasted far longer than he would have ever wanted. While Ed wouldn’t have cared for the length, no one in attendance seemed to mind. No one was in a hurry to say good-bye.

  Al Kerns set the tone of the morning when he placed a toy lawn tractor on the podium as he began his portion of the service. “My goal the next few minutes is that we go beyond mourning a death to remembering how this man lived,” he started off, “because therein is Ed’s message to us all. And to say that I lost my best friend in this case seems selfish, because Ed was the best friend to so many people. I’ve never known anyone like that. Ed had a lot of talents, but friendship was his best. He never met a person he didn’t like. Whenever he met someone new, he came away saying, ‘He’s a nice guy,’ or ‘She’s a really good person.’ That’s because Ed only saw the best in others.

  “There were a lot of things that made Ed unique, and one of those was his clairvoyance. No matter where he was, he could sense a weed taking hold in his football field. I’m one of the guys who always gave him a hard time about the time and the energy he put into that field, but you know, this tractor and that field are metaphors for the way he lived. He treated that field like he treated every one of us. There must be millions upon millions of blades of grass out on that field, but he gave each one love and encouragement on a daily basis. He worked to make the roots deep so that it could withstand all kinds of pressure, especially when people walk on it and impede its upward growth. When bad things appeared, such as weeds and fungus, he eliminated them by physically pulling them out or by applying three times the amount of chemicals recommended by the EPA.

  “It’s funny. I’m color-blind. Yet hardly a day went by without Ed pointing toward the field and saying to me, ‘Doesn’t it look green?’ I would agree, ‘Yes, it sure is green,’ even though I couldn’t see it. Ed could.

  “As I think back on my thirty-plus years of working side by side with Ed, I don’t think about all the games he won or all the awards or the praise he received, even though all of that was well deserved. No, all I really know from being around him for so long is that he made people around him wish to be better than we are by looking at the way he lived.

  “Thanks, Ed, for being an inspiration. We will move on, but we will never forget.”

  If Ed had been in charge of the funeral, the moment Al finished speaking, Ed would have stood up and said, “All right, that’s enough of that.” But the service did not end there. After another of Ed’s favorite songs was played, Pastor Brad Zinnecker spoke of Ed’s character and the way in which his faith and his family came before football. Kelly Williamson followed. The family had asked him to close the service. “We know where Coach is right now,” Kelly said. “He is in the very presence of God. But he isn’t there because of all the good things he did. No, Coach is there, and you can be as well, because he trusted in Jesus Christ alone to save him.” Kelly then invited all those in attendance who did not have a relationship with Christ to invite him into their hearts.

  That was supposed to be the end. As Pastor Zinnecker took his place behind the podium and thanked everyone for attending, Aaron leaned over and whispered something to his mother. She nodded her head. Just as Pastor Zinnecker was about to offer the final prayer, Aaron walked up to the front. No one had planned this ahead of time, least of all Ed in his instructions about his own funeral, and yet, given the legacy Ed left behind, this was the only way the service could end.

  “Quickly, I thought there are some things that need to be said that some might find inappropriate if anybody else said them,” Aaron began. For two days he had wrestled with God over speaking at his father’s funeral. He knew he was supposed to, but he did not think he would be able to do it. Yet, sitting there, listening to each of the speakers, he knew what he had to do.

  “You know, my dad was terrible when he would lose. I don’t know how my mom dealt with him. But it was my mom who would get him going. By Sunday afternoon, when the staff got together to meet, he was over the loss and ready to go again. The players all knew that Monday was going to be terrible. But it was part of getting back up.

  “We stuck with this loss longer than I know he would like. There is no way he would want this to drag out for five days. And there is no way he would have waited four hours in line for anybody.

  “But I’m going to tell you this and challenge you with this: You can be sad for the rest of the day, but come tomorrow, it’s time to get going. That’s the only way my dad’s memory is going to live on. There is not one of us who can make up for what my dad did. There is not one of us here who will be Ed Thomas, but this can be a better place than it was with Ed Thomas. But for that to happen, it has got to come from each one of you.

  “I don’t care what your job is. If there was one thing I learned from my dad, it is that no job is too small. So I don’t care what you do. When you step out tomorrow, you give it everything you’ve got. If work starts at 8:00 a.m., you make sure you’re there at 7:57. You’re not rolling in late. If you’re done at 4:00 p.m., you work until 4:05. Don’t shortchange anyone. Don’t shortchange yourself.

  “My father talked a lot about character. Character is you doing what is right when no one is looking and no one will know. My dad was a great man of character, and that’s something I’ve taken from him. But come tomorrow, it’s time we all get going.

  “My father would be so proud to see this church full. Not because of these circumstances, but because of the fact that Kelly shared the message of how you can be saved and know where you’re going. I know there are people in here who have never heard the gospel. I don’t think that’s the ultimate reason for my dad’s death, but it will play a part.

  “So as a community — and when I say community, it doesn’t matter whether you are from Parkersburg, A-P, the state of Iowa, or anywhere else—if you truly honor and care about my father, come tomorrow, you will pick yourself up, get going, and do what you’re supposed to do. If you want to honor my family and my father, it won’t be just this week. The question is: Can you sustain it? He did it for thirty-three years here. Can you sustain it day in and day out, doing what’s right, making people better, and taking
care of each other? If you can do that, my father will live for a really long time through all of us. If you can’t, that’s when my father’s death becomes a tragedy, and that’s when it’s a shame.

  “Today, we can be sad. Come tomorrow, it’s time we all get going. The true test of character is: How do we respond to adversity? This is adversity. How are you going to respond? What are you going to do tomorrow? God bless you all, and we thank you so much for coming and loving our father.”

  Aaron finished his remarks and took his seat next to his mother. By the time he finished speaking, it was clear to everyone in the room and to all those who watched on television that although Ed Thomas had passed, he had found a way to speak at his own funeral. His legacy and influence had only begun to build.*

  After the service was over, the funeral procession made one last trip to the place that will always be synonymous with Ed’s life and work: the Sacred Acre. The hearse drove slowly past the field where Ed had invested his life in the lives of his players and students. From there, the procession drove to the cemetery. All along the way, players from teams that A-P had competed against through the years lined up along both sides of the road, holding four fingers high, something Ed’s teams did at the start of the fourth quarter of every game. For Ed, the four fingers held high said, “We will finish stronger than we started.”

  “Dad would have loved this,” Aaron said to his mother. It was a fitting final tribute to a man who lived with heart and with great enthusiasm for four full quarters.

  *For video of reactions to Coach Thomas’s funeral, including the procession through the streets of Parkersburg, go to www.youtube.com/watch?v=uYPQ84ONBdo.

  EPILOGUE

  GETTING UP, MOVING FORWARD

  MARK BECKER WAS FORMALLY CHARGED WITH FIRST-DEGREE murder the day after Ed Thomas’s funeral. One week later, he entered a plea of not guilty by reason of insanity. The Thomas family learned later that Becker had been diagnosed as paranoid schizophrenic long before the shooting. He claimed voices in his head told him to shoot Coach Thomas because Coach was becoming “a devil tyrant.” Prosecutors admitted that Becker was mentally ill but maintained that his actions on the day of the shooting demonstrated a full understanding of the difference between right and wrong.

  The actual trial did not begin until the following February. The Thomas family attended every part of the trial, including the preliminary hearings. The jury deliberated for twenty-five hours before returning a guilty verdict. Becker was sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole. His court-appointed attorney immediately filed an appeal.

  After the verdict was handed down, Todd Thomas told the press, “Our family is extremely relieved that a guilty verdict did come out. We do feel that justice has been served. And we feel like the system worked. Without a doubt, no verdict is ever going to replace Dad, but we do take comfort in knowing that he is in a better place. That allows us to keep moving forward.”

  Aaron Thomas added, “Our family is not over anything. The Becker family is not over anything. We are still going to deal with this daily for as long as we live. Nothing that is going to happen, like Todd said, is going to bring my dad back. And now all we can do is for each of us to try to live the way he lived and by the example he set for all of us.”

  Part of the challenge both brothers face as they live out their father’s legacy is the pain of his loss and the anger it stirs up within them. Aaron explained, “The real challenge verse for me has been Mark 11:25. ‘And when you stand praying, if you hold anything against anyone, forgive him, so that your Father in heaven may forgive you your sins.’ I read this verse right after the shooting, but I didn’t want to hear it then. However, the Lord keeps bringing me back to it. Forgiveness is a daily decision I have to make. Do I still feel anger when I think about what happened? Sure. I probably always will. But I know I have to turn that over to God.”

  Todd answered the same question. “I never once questioned why my dad was taken from me that day. I am fully convinced that my dad had touched the last kid he was supposed to touch that day. There is no doubt that we are in a spiritual battle on this earth. Evil came after my dad that day, but evil did not win. The day of the funeral, many lives were changed. People saw a man who had finished strong, and peoples’ lives were changed. Kelly Williamson said it best that day when he said, ‘You know that you know that you know.’ Our lives are nothing but a vapor on this earth. Without a doubt, my dad knew where he was going to live in eternity. And at eight o’clock that morning, Dad was doing what he does every day; and in an instant, he was standing before God. There is no doubt in my mind that he heard the words that we all long to hear: ‘Well done, good and faithful servant!’ “*

  Shortly before the start of Mark Becker’s trial, the Iowa state legislature began debate on what was called “The Ed Thomas Bill.” The original version of the bill created an administrative process for hospitals to notify law enforcement personnel when releasing someone who had been receiving treatment for mental health issues and is subject to arrest by warrant or against whom charges are pending. However, the bill was essentially no different from existing Iowa statutes in place at the time of Coach Thomas’s murder. If that bill had been law when Mark Becker was taken into custody on the Saturday before the shooting, he still would have been released without police notification.

  Chris Luhring stayed in constant contact with legislators during the debate on this bill. At his urging, the Thomas family publicly stated that they did not support the proposed bill and asked that Ed Thomas’s name be removed from it. Their actions prompted major changes in the proposed legislation. The new bill eliminated the requirement that law enforcement obtain a court order to hold a subject in a mental health facility for forty-eight hours. It also created a uniform process and form by which law enforcement may request to be notified of the discharge of someone taken to the hospital for serious mental impairment or of a person incapacitated by a chemical substance. Law enforcement must retrieve the individual within six hours of notification of the patient’s release. Hospitals cannot hold the patient beyond the forty-eight hours already dictated by Iowa law. If hospitals fail to notify the proper authorities when requested, they face a civil penalty of $1,000 for the first offense, and $2,000 for each subsequent offense. The law also provides civil and criminal protections for those who comply with the law.

  During debate on the strengthened bill, Aaron appeared before the subcommittee and urged the committee to honor his father by “doing the right thing.” The state attorney general’s office and the Department of Public Safety also went on record to state that the strengthened bill did not violate patient privacy rules dictated by HIPAA.

  Even so, it appeared the bill might die in committee. On the final day of debate, Jan went to Des Moines and met with legislators, asking them to support the bill. Jan’s visit turned the tide. The bill passed out of committee by unanimous vote. The Iowa House of Representatives then passed the bill by a vote of 90 to 0. The Senate followed suit with a 50 to 0 vote.

  Governor Chet Culver signed the Ed Thomas Bill into law on March 24, 2010, with Jan, Aaron, and Todd in attendance. Aaron said on the occasion, “I think this is a bill my dad would be very proud of. This is a great thing, but obviously we wish we didn’t have to have this bill in my dad’s name.”

  A few days after his father’s funeral, the A-P school board asked Aaron to move back to Parkersburg as the school’s athletic director. With the new school year just around the corner, he had to make a decision quickly. After much prayer and consideration, he resigned his position at Union High School in La Porte City, Iowa, and took over for his father at A-P. After selling their house in La Porte, Aaron and Ellie and their three sons moved in with Jan while their new house was being built in Parkersburg. Even one year after the tornado, there were no houses available to rent.

  Taking over as A-P’s athletic director fills every one of Aaron’s days with reminders of his father. No one at the s
chool calls him Coach Thomas, or even Mr. Thomas. Those titles will always belong to his father. For most people at the school, Aaron is simply Aaron. His players call him Coach.

  In the summer of 2010, Aaron hired Alex Pollock as A-P’s first new head football coach since 1975. Alex played for Ed from 1998 to 2001, including during the state championship season in 2001. The 2010 team went through the season undefeated before losing to Dike-New Hartford in the second round of the state playoffs. They finished the year with a 10 and 1 record, the same record as in Ed’s final season.

  Todd and Candice had always planned on moving to Parkersburg. After his father’s death, Todd felt a greater sense of urgency to be closer to his mother. Near the Parkersburg golf course, they built the home they had planned on building even before the tornado came. Shortly after Mark Becker’s trial, Candice gave birth to their first child: a son. Todd also rejoined the A-P Falcon football coaching staff. Like his father, he now coaches the offensive linemen.

  In the weeks and months after Ed’s death, Jan found herself turning to the book of Job over and over again. One phrase from early in the book leaped off the page to her. After Job suffered the deaths of his ten children, along with experiencing complete financial ruin followed by debilitating illness, his wife told him he should just curse God and die and get it over with. He responded to her, “Should we accept only good things from the hand of God and never anything bad?”* Jan could not get those words out of her mind as she wrestled with coming to grips with the loss she had suffered. She had read them before, but they never had the power they now had. As she turned them over and over in her mind, she came to the realization that if only good things happen in this world, no one would ever see a need for God. It is not that God causes sin. James 1:13 makes that crystal clear. Sin is, Jan came to realize, the absence of God. In a world filled with sin, bad things will inevitably happen. Acts of cruelty, such as the one that took her husband away, do not take God by surprise. He knew what would take place in the weight room that morning. However, in the midst of her pain, she knew that God was right there beside her. He made a promise in Hebrews 13:5 – 6 to which she was now clinging: