For those who did not have the pleasure of knowing my father:
David William Jensen
February 21, 1948-September 2, 2010
Born in Lynn, Massachusetts to William and Patricia Jensen
David earned his M.S. degree in physiology and biophysics from the University of Illinois. He then earned his PhD in Neurosciences at the University of California in San Diego. He served on the postgraduate research neuroscience staff at UCSD, on the faculty of the Baylor College of Medicine, and on the consulting staff of The Methodist Hospital, Houston, Texas.
It was during his time at Baylor that he met his wife, Melinda, and also acknowledged and accepted Christ as his Lord and Savior. David and Melinda were married 1984 and have 3 beautiful children.
With thirty years' experience in neuroscience, he is published in professional journals, books, newspapers, and other media. He served as a reviewer for the National Science Foundations of the United States and New Zealand. And, until his death, was a faculty member of the Lone Star College-Tomball and LeTourneau University.
David Jensen is also the found of Whole Hearted Health- a non profit educational and scientific corporation whose mission is to educate, investigate, and develop products and practices to improve health, health care, and performance. A key objective for this corporation is to show people how to form and manage their own personal healthcare system.
Aside from his remarkable professional life, David also led the Men's Ministry at Believers Fellowship Church in Spring, Texas, and assisted in the homeschooling of each of his three children. He was a Christ Follower, beloved husband: father, brother, son, friend, teacher and colleague.
David resided in Grimes County, Texas. He is now survived by his beloved wife, Melinda, daughter Natalie, (granddaughter Isabella), sons, Benjamin and Joel. David is also survived by his father William, brother Brian, sister Jennifer, aunt, 2 nieces, 3 nephews and a wealth of extended family friends, colleagues and students who all loved him.
Favorite Scripture passage, Psalm 139
Funeral Services provided by Klein Funeral Homes.
When we got home from the hospital, the house seemed more empty than it ever had. Dad's bible was left open by his armchair. I looked at the verse he had underlined:
"Behold, as for the proud one,
His soul is not right within him:
But the righteous will live by his faith"
~Habakkuk 2:4
I started thumbing through his bible- everything was a haze. Was he really gone? Had we really just come from the hospital? Three days ago, everything was fine. Three days ago, he'd kissed my mom goodbye and gone to work... never to come home again. As I held his bible, a piece of paper fell out. It was a poem- author unknown. It was odd because dad wasn't really one to read poetry, but what was more odd, was the contents of the poem:
Don't grieve for me, for now I'm free
I'm following the path God laid for me,
I took His hand when I heard Him call
I turned my back and left it all.
I could not stay another day
to laugh, to love, to work, or play
Tasks left undone must stay that way
I found that place at the close of the day
If my parting has left a void
Then fill it with remembered joy,
a friendship shared, a laugh, a kiss
Ah yes, these things I too, will miss
Be not burdened with times of sorrow,
I wish you the sunshine of tomorrow.
My life's been full, I've savored much.
Good friends, good times, a loved one's touch.
Perhaps my time seemed all too brief;
don't lengthen it now with undue grief.
Lift up your heart and share with me
God wanted me now, He set me free.
I read it at his memorial service. Along with a short eulogy. As much as I hated public speaking, and as terrified as I was of standing up in front of an audience, I wanted the world to know who my dad was.
There is never a perfect time to say goodbye. No matter how many years or memories we have, we are never ready to let go. If given the option, I think all of us would plead for more time; one more year, month, week, day... even a few more moments. Or maybe just an interlude of consciousness- that he could have opened his eyes and heard, for one last time, how much we loved him and how proud we were to call him 'father'. But these things are not in our control- and that, as difficult as it may be, is a blessing.
His humor was cheesy; he frequently used expressions like "wowdy dowdy" or "aiya cowabunga". When someone was being an idiot, he used his own made up term of "gerby pooby".
His intelligence was overwhelming. After asking him a question, I would sit through a 15.... 20......30 minute explanation, using all words that were easily more than four syllables. When he finished, I would then ask for the "dumbed down version".
He was as imaginative as he was intelligent; making up stories for us as children and creating games and activities.
26 years of marriage, and mom and dad still absolutely adored each other. He always treated her with the utmost respect and tenderness, setting an example for us, his children. He worked diligently to provide for his family; getting up at the break of dawn and coming home close to midnight, working two jobs so that mom could stay at home with us.
He taught me how to ride a bike, drive a stick shift, change the oil, dissect a frog, and the correct posture for swinging a golf club. He taught me the value of hard work: that "the family that sweats together sticks together".
In the Old Testament, King David was a "man after God's own heart". Our David, my daddy, was a man after God's own heart as well. He was the most loving and attentive father, husband, son, brother, teacher, friend. He desired integrity and righteousness and he strove to know God and make Him known.
He was the spiritual leader of his family: encouraging us in the Lord and spending daily time on his knees. He encouraged us to strive for excellence, pursue godliness and desire integrity. Dad was my hero; a magnificent gift that God gave us to hold in our arms for a little while. He lived all his days to the fullest and I know, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that Jesus received him saying, "Well done, my good and faithful servant".
Later, I found a poem I'd written for him when I was twelve or thirteen:
My Father, My Hero
In books, one reads of heroes brave
the knights in shining armor.
Men of courage, whom people gave
riches, wealth, and honor.
Yet in my mind a hero is
a person kind and true
I know a man who is all this:
let me explain just who...
What warrior soothes a hurting heart?
or mends a broken toy?
What knight delays his journeys start,
to kiss his little boy?
What prince would give up wealth untold
to spend time with his daughter?
What soldier gives a hand to hold
when his little baby totters?
The greatest hero that I know
is not so far away;
my father is my guardian
beside me every day.
~Natalie P Jensen, 1997
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
The Darkest Days
I've never woken up thinking "my worst nightmare will come to fruition today". I'm not a worrier by nature, nor do I have a "doomsday, end-of-the-world" mentality. So, it began as a normal day. Sunshine. Breakfast. Coffee. A call to my mom. She said she was on the way to Tomball Regional Hospital because dad had an insulin reaction at work. Dad had many insulin reactions over the years- unfortunately, with Type I diabetes, this is a common occurrence. Some were mild, some were severe.. but any time he had one at a church function or at work while he was teaching at Tomball College, someone would call an ambulance. Then dad would come around, frustrated and embarrassed to be the center of every ones worry and concern. When mom told me she was heading to the hospital, she didn't sound alarmed. I told her to call me when they got home. About an hour later, I got a text from my mom. "Dad is in ER and admitted to CCU. Doing a CAT scan." I responded immediately, "What is CCU and why are they doing a CAT scan?!"
I couldn't wait for an answer so I called her. She told me when she got to the hospital there were about ten of his students in the waiting area and they said something about "Dr. Jensen is breathing now". Mom thought, "of course he's breathing".. She soon learned that when the paramedics arrived to his office, he didn't have a pulse and he hadn't been breathing. They weren't even able to resuscitate him until they got to the hospital.. She told me to pray. She told me that our Pastors were there. I knew at that point in time how serious it was. Mom never would have called the church if she thought dad would be ok.
I prayed and paced and paced and prayed for what seemed like hours. I finally grew impatient and called my mom again. The doctors ascertained dad had gone over 45 minutes without oxygen getting to his brain. It didn't "look good" and he might not "make it". If he did wake up again, it was likely that the brain damage would be so severe that he wouldn't be able to function. I asked Jonathan to call his dad and ask for him to fly me home. A lady from church worked on getting Jonathan a ticket as well. My flight left Denver at 2:40pm for Houston... it wasn't a long flight but it seemed like years.
Izzy wasn't even one yet- when we got to the hospital, I don't remember who took her.. all I remember is the look on my moms face. She asked if I was ready to see my dad. I don't remember what I said. I just remember nodding. Trying to make sense of everything in my mind. We walked through the double doors of the CCU. Everything was stark white and smelled like bleach and antibacterial spray. When we got to the door of my dads room, it was all I could do to not break down.
As a little girl, I rode on my daddy's shoulders. He taught me the difference between a philips head and a flat head screwdriver. He explained long division so it made sense: he said it was doing pushups with your brain. (I dislike any kind of pushup to this day). I don't remember ever asking him a question that he didn't know the answer to; he was the most intelligent, well educated person I know. When you are little, your parents often seem invincible; like nothing could phase them or deter them. My dad was no wimp- he was six-foot-two, eyes of blue. He prided himself on doing 50 pushups every morning. Apart from his diabetes, he was healthy as a horse! He walked his talk- leading the Whole Hearted Health Ministry at Believers Fellowship, he was careful to eat well, exercise well, and live a devoted, Christ-centered life.
Now, here is was, my strong, handsome father, laying pale and unmoving on a hospital bent with a mask over his face, and tubes and wires everywhere. I touched his hand- it was cold. Daddy's hands were never cold. Mom went back to the waiting room and I sat there, by my dads side, talking to him. Telling him how much I loved him and how much I appreciated what a wonderful father he was. I tearfully asked him to "try harder" and "open your eyes". The monotonous drone of the oxygen machine and the incessant beeping of the blood pressure monitor were drowned out by my own pounding heart.
The next few days were a blur; I only remember bits and pieces. But I remember my mom in tears because the nurse had given her my dads wedding ring. On September 22nd, at 9:25pm, they took him off life support and my wonderful, precious father went to be with Jesus, leaving behind a loving wife, two sons, and me.
I couldn't wait for an answer so I called her. She told me when she got to the hospital there were about ten of his students in the waiting area and they said something about "Dr. Jensen is breathing now". Mom thought, "of course he's breathing".. She soon learned that when the paramedics arrived to his office, he didn't have a pulse and he hadn't been breathing. They weren't even able to resuscitate him until they got to the hospital.. She told me to pray. She told me that our Pastors were there. I knew at that point in time how serious it was. Mom never would have called the church if she thought dad would be ok.
I prayed and paced and paced and prayed for what seemed like hours. I finally grew impatient and called my mom again. The doctors ascertained dad had gone over 45 minutes without oxygen getting to his brain. It didn't "look good" and he might not "make it". If he did wake up again, it was likely that the brain damage would be so severe that he wouldn't be able to function. I asked Jonathan to call his dad and ask for him to fly me home. A lady from church worked on getting Jonathan a ticket as well. My flight left Denver at 2:40pm for Houston... it wasn't a long flight but it seemed like years.
Izzy wasn't even one yet- when we got to the hospital, I don't remember who took her.. all I remember is the look on my moms face. She asked if I was ready to see my dad. I don't remember what I said. I just remember nodding. Trying to make sense of everything in my mind. We walked through the double doors of the CCU. Everything was stark white and smelled like bleach and antibacterial spray. When we got to the door of my dads room, it was all I could do to not break down.
As a little girl, I rode on my daddy's shoulders. He taught me the difference between a philips head and a flat head screwdriver. He explained long division so it made sense: he said it was doing pushups with your brain. (I dislike any kind of pushup to this day). I don't remember ever asking him a question that he didn't know the answer to; he was the most intelligent, well educated person I know. When you are little, your parents often seem invincible; like nothing could phase them or deter them. My dad was no wimp- he was six-foot-two, eyes of blue. He prided himself on doing 50 pushups every morning. Apart from his diabetes, he was healthy as a horse! He walked his talk- leading the Whole Hearted Health Ministry at Believers Fellowship, he was careful to eat well, exercise well, and live a devoted, Christ-centered life.
Now, here is was, my strong, handsome father, laying pale and unmoving on a hospital bent with a mask over his face, and tubes and wires everywhere. I touched his hand- it was cold. Daddy's hands were never cold. Mom went back to the waiting room and I sat there, by my dads side, talking to him. Telling him how much I loved him and how much I appreciated what a wonderful father he was. I tearfully asked him to "try harder" and "open your eyes". The monotonous drone of the oxygen machine and the incessant beeping of the blood pressure monitor were drowned out by my own pounding heart.
The next few days were a blur; I only remember bits and pieces. But I remember my mom in tears because the nurse had given her my dads wedding ring. On September 22nd, at 9:25pm, they took him off life support and my wonderful, precious father went to be with Jesus, leaving behind a loving wife, two sons, and me.
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