I can’t believe I forgot the anniversary, if only for a little bit.
On November 1, 2002, a friend of mine died in a car accident. The vehicle she was in was caught in a severe rainstorm on the way to a residential life staff retreat in St. Louis.
I’ve had older relatives die, I’ve watched friends go through the deaths of sibling or parents, but this was the first time someone my own age in my own circle died.
We’d both lived in one of the Honors communities at MU. We were both aiming toward journalism degrees. We both had gotten hired resident advisors at MU despite the fact we both missed an important deadline in the application process (there were many steps to clear, and at one point one of the applications had to be turned in by 3 p.m. Friday, though two earlier forms had a 5 p.m. cut off. I discovered this around 3:30 p.m. and found a way around it. Afterwards, I informed my friend who had committed the same oversight and shared how I’d worked around it. I’ve sometimes wondered if that was wise, since she wouldn’t have been on that trip had she not been hired. I do not hold myself accountable for what resulted. I know there were many other variables along the way, but some morbid thoughts surface in retrospection).
When we left Hatch Hall and entered into our assigned communities the next school year, we didn’t see each other as much. What had been a casual connection got a bit shakier. When our paths overlapped, however, we would still find the time to catch up and chat. I remember our final talk outside Fisher Auditorium the Wednesday before the accident. We discussed journalism classes and Res Life and made references to former Hatchlings. I’m sure somewhere in there we mentioned how busy it was and how it was harder to stay in touch with people in general; because you make that complaint every year in college. Eventually, one of us looked at the time and wrapped things up. No specific time was set for a future meeting largely because we each assumed we’d see the other around either in the halls of the J-school or at some staff function.
I wish I’d gotten to know her better.
The following weekend, I received word that she’d died. Being a member of student staff meant I heard about it sooner than others due to the circumstances surrounding the accident. It took me longer than I would like admit to realize what had happened. I have long been bad at names (something that was exacerbated by my year spent working in a mail room). The name was familiar when I heard it, but I couldn’t pull anything specific out of my mental file. Only when I saw the photograph in the paper did I put together the face, the name, and everything else. And with that belated start, the mourning and musings started.
I, like most humans, like to think that I’m not naïve (even if that is obviously not true). I can’t help but shake my head today when I remember that I was one of those idiot teenagers who thought they’d really live forever. Some of that was personal cockiness, some of that was misapplied spiritual beliefs (I’m positive that we’re living in the last days as the Bible refers to in Revelations, but that doesn’t excuse one from engaging in unnecessarily risky behavior).
I can tell you the exact day when I realized I was mortally wrong: April 1, 1999 around 5:00 p.m. after my “hit and run” accident. It wasn’t when I first came to at the side of the road or on the ambulance ride, but when I heard from my Pastor that a friend’s grandfather had died that same afternoon. Only then did I cry, out of sorrow for that family and the recognition that I had come similarly close. I swore I wouldn’t make the same mistake again.
I meant it, but time can dull some memories and lessons. Despite such high water marks, it is a shame we too often must re-learn the same lesson a short way down the road.
That is what I went through with my friend’s death. I won’t go into my internal musings or dig into the gallows humor I employ during darker times, but I will share the little moment of memoriam I observed.
Being in the Journalism and Mass Communication community, I was able to justify my voluminous newspaper collection by putting together an “In the News” board on my floor. That week, I put up every related clipping I could find, especially those of her smiling. Nestled among them I included a hand-lettered card with the image of burning candle and the words, “We will miss you Katie.”
And we still do.
I don’t want to go on too much longer, but should warn you, I told you that story to tell you this one (don’t worry, it will be shorter).
Reading other’s blogs this weekend reminded me of the loss we suffered that year. The questions and feelings evoked mix with my ongoing debate over identity and direction.
I’ve been putting a lot of thought into what I share on this website. Readers from the past know what desperate measures I’ve gone to in the past thanks to certain information posted. You can get hurt by opening up, but I’m also fearful of remaining too closed as well. If I don’t have the liberty to try to impart the important stuff, if you can’t take an occasional stand, why do any of this… because as much as I like playing with words, scoring an occasional comment, and hopefully making people laugh or grin, I also want people to think and maybe even make a change for the better.
Every so often, I would hope I write something that makes someone think differently or consider something new. I’m not asking people to totally line up behind me (because that would be anything but wise), but I do want to challenge people to challenge the world around them. I don’t think it’s enough to merely exist and try not to stand out. If you look around the world, it’s obvious we need to do more.
And there are hundreds of small moments a day where one can act heroic. It may not be required that you have to dash into a burning building or dive into the rapids below. You can make another’s day by simply jumping a car battery, giving away a bottle of water, warning a person about their unzipped backpack, or sharing a hard-won truth.
And in that last vein, let me recount a challenge issued to me this past week:
“What can you remember about the day you became a Christian and accepted the free gift of salvation? Write down what you can recall about the time you asked Jesus to forgive you of your sins. Then, share that important information with someone else.”
The writing was easy, but for some reason, I was very hesitant to follow through on the second part… until I recalled the anniversary. The question was instantly settled.
We have a short time on this Earth; probably shorter than what many of us would guess. Remembering my friend makes me ask, “What impact would I leave behind should another truck or something come hurtling my way?”
Here is my dual response to the two questions:
Others are writing about the preachers who spoke or the words preached or the music that played. I’m still more fascinated by the end result, rather than the cause.
The thing is impressed on me the most, more than any other detail, is the feeling of a heavy load being taken away.
I’d heard the description too many times to count. “I felt my burdens fall way when I turned my attention to the cross.” This saying was perceived to be more symbolic than physical – a cliché you were supposed to say. Not something that was literal. Something easily dismissible by one who had started to drift away after years in the church.
But in the middle of one night, I made the decision to rededicate my life to Christ. When I made a change in my heart, when my spirit matched the words I’d spoken, there was a sudden shift around my shoulders. I was if I’d shed a heavy backpack. My spine straightened as if it was no longer compressed by such a load.
Only then did I realize how spiritual sin literally drags down the physical body. And I also saw my foolishness for dragging such a weight a needless distance when it was so easily put aside.
The old, formerly rejected words were proved true. I could both breathe and smile more easily. Because of the tangible freed feeling in my body I knew something in my soul had actually changed. I knew my salvation was real and that I was, finally, freed in deed.
Should you leave today, what would you leave behind and what would await you? I’d ask you to answer the question honestly, and then, even more difficultly, act accordingly.
We’re only talking about a world for you to win or lose; nothing less, but potentially something more. May God grant you truth and wisdom.
said...
And to think, some people still wonder why I give the world about 20 years left to go, tops.