The last several days I have been trying to prepare myself for tomorrow the 8th. The date marks the 3rd anniversary of the death of a dear friend, Emily. Emily was the first person I met at SPU when I began as a freshman, a day I'll never forget. She was two years older than me and served as my peer advisor/resident advisor on my dorm floor. Since our rooms were right next to each other, I spent a lot of time getting to know Emily, playing pranks on her, and depending on the state of the night, we'd stay up late laughing about nothing at all or talking about faith, grace, and life struggles. As a young adult, I can truly said she was and will always be one of the most influential people I've known. After my freshman year, Emily and I continued to deepen our friendship over coffee dates; she is responsible for
introducing me to some of my favorite coffee shops in Seattle. That mentorship taught me so much about relationships and character development than I could have ever anticipated. She wasn't perfect by all means, but I can honestly say she has been one of the most vulnerable and intentional people I have known. She always meant what she said and she shared her heart and soul with such love and commitment to close communion with those that knew her best. Her nickname was Sparkles and anyone that knew her knows why.Every anniversary day has been difficult. Society expects that you should be over it by now and move on. The truth is, you can't ever just get over the death of someone that was so close to your heart and soul. Yes, living life beyond grief is necessary, but grief itself is very complicated. The truth is, that when you lose someone you love, a part of you dies with that person. It sounds cliche, and it is, but it's true.
So vividly, I remember everything about that day three years ago. Each year has gotten easier for me to focus on Emily and her character, and less on the events of that day 3 years ago. It has become a little bit easier to talk about my favorite memories of her, and celebrate her life in a very distinctive way on this anniversary by doing something she would have loved. Although I know she is at the feet of her Father, it still isn't easy to swallow. I miss her. She was so young, a new bride, and a promising individual that wanted to help the world through psychology. Why questions surround her death. The Lord is Sovereign and although many ask these questions 3 years later, I know that God continues to walk with us through it. His presence is comfort, something we desperately need in our frail humanity.
Tomorrow will be a particularly difficult day because it is also the day of the funeral service for my coach. With all of this in mind I am reminded of one of Emily's favorite poems, The Valley of Vision. The valley of darkness is where we are able to see the light shine brighter. For now, that's enough hope.
Even with so many deaths in my life over the past few years, I cannot help but think that God is preparing me for a lifetime of ministry where pain, death, and grief saturate the norms of life. When I think about where I'm headed and the field I am pursuing, I know I am not far off. AIDS, psychological trauma, rape, loss of parents, and victims of violence demand not just a sympathetic response, but an empathetic one. I am learning what these rhythms of mercy look like.
So vividly, I remember everything about that day three years ago. Each year has gotten easier for me to focus on Emily and her character, and less on the events of that day 3 years ago. It has become a little bit easier to talk about my favorite memories of her, and celebrate her life in a very distinctive way on this anniversary by doing something she would have loved. Although I know she is at the feet of her Father, it still isn't easy to swallow. I miss her. She was so young, a new bride, and a promising individual that wanted to help the world through psychology. Why questions surround her death. The Lord is Sovereign and although many ask these questions 3 years later, I know that God continues to walk with us through it. His presence is comfort, something we desperately need in our frail humanity.
Tomorrow will be a particularly difficult day because it is also the day of the funeral service for my coach. With all of this in mind I am reminded of one of Emily's favorite poems, The Valley of Vision. The valley of darkness is where we are able to see the light shine brighter. For now, that's enough hope.
Even with so many deaths in my life over the past few years, I cannot help but think that God is preparing me for a lifetime of ministry where pain, death, and grief saturate the norms of life. When I think about where I'm headed and the field I am pursuing, I know I am not far off. AIDS, psychological trauma, rape, loss of parents, and victims of violence demand not just a sympathetic response, but an empathetic one. I am learning what these rhythms of mercy look like.
I am a true believer in taking the time to acknowledge and sit with real pain, taste it, and let it rest upon your shoulders. But the story does not and should not end there; there is hope and healing through Christ. However, this is not an excuse to ignore the pain of this world or even undermine it. Pain requires validity and acknowledgment. Being human means living between the tension of this grief and hope. We look forward, but we must also look back in order to not only grow, but also remember what it means to be human. Looking back and taking the time to experience and absorb the suffering around you inspires you and pushes you to seek the hope that is only found in Christ. This is one of the prominent things I have learned from the loss of many loved ones.
So if you will, please keep the family and friends of both Emily and Bonnie in your prayers, especially over the next few days and weeks. Tomorrow is not the only day we take to remember, but in the lives of at least two families and multiple circles of friends, tomorrow will a bit quieter, filled with reflection and tears, and because grief is so complicated, probably laughter in light of those fond memories.
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