I wrote this post on a very sad day and I haven’t written a post since.  There are lots of things going on in my life that seem to keep me from writing.  When I wrote this post, I didn’t feel like I could put it out there at the time, it felt too raw.  I re-read it today as the rain fell and the cold air moved into Birmingham. I wrote it about my friend who died.  I have a painting by my friend that hangs in my hall and it reminds me of him daily.  I miss him and I think of his family and how much they must miss him.  I am still waiting for winter to pass in so many ways.  I thought I would put it out there and hope that you will be encouraged to love more fully as we truly never know how long we will walk this earth.

This is what I wrote the day our dear friend died:

I am writing today because writing is what I am ultimately compelled to do when nothing else in this broken world will soften the blow of the pain and suffering of life. It doesn’t give me relief in the form of answers or even of some slight understanding of how and why things happen as they do, but it at least lets me see my thoughts and begin to process the multitude of things that I feel swallowed up by right now.

My friend died today. I know everyone dies. I know everyone grieves and suffers and rubs up against that unbearable reality of death. And it is unbearable, it is that ultimate boogey-man that comes in the night and robs us of the right and good and precious thing…life.

I won’t waste my sad words on some sort of tribute for my friend. He was remarkable, yet he does not need my words to make his memory strong. He lives in my heart as well as the hearts of those who loved him unbelievably more that I could ever imagine. But, I will write about how his life has impacted mine. He taught me many things, and most without ever trying. He made decisions that swam upstream against a current that both he and I had known for what seemed a lifetime.  I too have made decisions that swam against that current and had experienced the backlash as a result.

These decisions that he made are not what affected my life and my soul, but his acquiescence to what those decisions brought to his life full-force. To say that the ‘ripple affect’ was in play when these decisions were made is an understatement, but for me, those ripples rocked my world and my faith. To watch a world that had been my ‘only’ world for almost two decades, turn on this friend because they had no space for his decisions, that changed me. My faith, that which I would have professed as the core of my being, was in question on so many levels.

The friends I had at the time, which included this one who is now gone, were what kept me from going under. This friend was a man who, above all else, loved Jesus and, beyond that, he believed that Jesus loved him.  I was profoundly affected by the way in which he believed this.  He went on to marry the love of his life and begin to see the lovely fruits of his life decisions. I sent this text to he and his bride, just after their nuptials this past November:

Hey, so sorry that we missed your celebration. We have a gift for you. Heard it all was lovely. I have been saving something in my wallet to share with you both. It has become a little worn, but I pull it out periodically and re-read it…waiting for the abundance and wishing for the winter to pass. It has passed for our other friend, now it as passed for the both of you and your children. I tore it from one of the programs at RMS a long, long time ago. It reads, as if you don’t already know:

“The woods and pastures are joyous in their abundance now in a season of warmth and much rain. We walk amidst foliage, amidst song. The sheep and cattle graze like souls in bliss (except for flies) and lie down satisfied. Who now can believe in winter? In winter who could have hoped for this?” Given: Poems – Wendell Berry

I love you both and am happy that your winter has passed. It gives me hope.

Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Indeed, the winter seemed to have passed, but no one thought it would come again, certainly not me. But when it came this time, it would prove to be the most bitter winter ever and it would take our friend from us forever. Where is my hope now? I am so very heartbroken for his courageous wife and beautiful children.  I know that to hope in things in this world is for naught. Yet, if we can not hope here and have glimpses of the hope that I believe will ultimately be, what do we have? My friend is at rest, his ultimate winter has passed and I can I am certain he finds it impossible to even ‘believe in winter’ where he finds himself now. But here, the winter feels fierce and I feel chilled to the bone. Not simply because a merciful and humble man has left us, but because of all the mystery that is left for those who loved him to contemplate.

I gave my friend a print by Brian Andreas years ago. It talks about different plans.  I never anticipated that I would come back to it today and read it with such different meaning. My friend was indeed lucky enough to lose his life in such a way that it has become ‘beautiful with mystery again.’ Oh for the hope to embrace that mystery for us all.  The hope to believe past winter. My friend believed past winter, even when he was in the midst of it.  I want to be like him.

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