Lower your expectations. This isn't going to be pretty or perfect. I've written and re-written this post in my mind a million times. I can't get the words just right. I can't capture Bethany well enough. It is, in fact, impossible.
Each day that passes
since her death I realize more and more and more how much I've lost in losing her. I want to somehow retell every memory, every moment my mind recalls in hopes to somehow hold on to her longer. But that too is impossible.
(I'm crying right now because as I write this, "Islands in the Stream" came on my Pandora, and Bethany would have thought that was both pathetic and hysterical.)
I miss her.
We shared a lot. Seven years living in the same city. Two years living together day in and day out in the dorm. And another handful of years as neighbors in an apartment complex. There are thousands of moments, inside jokes, silly stories, tearful conversations, and long walks that involved just the two of us. It is sobering and very lonely to realize that the only other person on this planet who understood/remembered those moments is actually now no longer on this planet.
Bethany, unlike any other friend I have, appreciated and understood what it meant to be a Southern woman. We lovingly--and often jovially--embraced our "heritage." We hoped to grow old and cranky together, growing tomatoes, and spoiling heaps of grandkids.
We both loved the SEC. She loved Alabama (especially football). I devoted my life to the Kentucky Wildcats (basketball, folks). She and I understood the importance of celebrating our teams from the GREATEST conference.
Art stirred us, especially the written word. Poetry, song lyrics, short stories, novels . . . we discussed them at length. Both English majors, Beth and I attended multiple classes together in college. We were the self-proclaimed "black sheep" of the department because we loved to pass notes and giggle during lectures, which was a bit taboo amongst the rather serious-minded English students. (And for the record, we made fantastic grades AND had a good time!)
Beth and I embraced the same values and philosophies when it came to raising kiddos. I could talk with her freely about the joys and challenges of motherhood. She called me just days after
we brought Lou home. Thinking that I would be able to spend a few days with her on our upcoming girls' weekend, I didn't chat with her as long as I wanted. I regret not talking with her more, asking her those questions about adding a second child and so forth, asking how the family dynamics changed now that Naomi was nearing two.
I was going to talk to her about this.
If nothing else (and there is really plenty more), I appreciated Beth for her truthfulness. She'd tell it to you straight. I trusted that. I knew she'd give me an honest opinion grounded in wisdom, love, and loyalty. She had my best interests at heart. I have lost a champion in losing her.
I have lost so much in losing her.
But the thing that's keeping me sane, that's keeping me afloat is Jesus' love for the both of us. The implications of God's grace in our lives is too vast to explain here. God offers me hope and comfort because of His promises to preserve His glory and my good and most certainly Bethany's good. We both loved Jesus in return and followed Him to places that caused separation from family and friends. I moved to another country known as Texas, while Bethany and her family moved to Indonesia and then Peru. These five years we were living on different continents saw changes in our families (babies!) and growth in our maturity, yet we still remained dearest friends . . . even if Skype sessions were few and far between. We talked about family life; we talked about making new friends in new places; we talked about wanting our work to mean something in God's kingdom.
Perhaps, the most surreal experience of my life thus far, was speaking at Bethany's funeral. In my wildest, scariest dreams, I never thought I'd see the day I'd do such a thing. But, I did, and am thankful and humbled David trusted me with such a chore. I gave it my all, trying to make Beth proud and hoping she'd chuckle a time or two. I tried to honor her and the One she most hoped to honor. With that, and because I've been requested to do so, the following are my notes from the eulogy:
As Anne Shirley, in Anne of Green Gables so classically
said,
"Marilla, do you think that I shall ever have a
bosom friend in Avonlea?"
"A bosom friend--an intimate friend, you know--a
really kindred spirit to whom I can confide my inmost soul. I've dreamed of
meeting her all my life. I never really supposed
I would, but so many of my loveliest dreams have come
true all at once that perhaps this one will, too. Do you think it's
possible?"
It was the
summer of 2000. By this point my freshman year of college was a memory; Y2K
came and went without a glitch or computer crisis and the school season was
soon to commence.
I attended some
party some where. (I truly don’t even remember.) The only thing I do remember
about that night was meeting this girl who was playing a game and talking
sports with Mark Littlefield. She felt passionately about her opinions and was
very knowledgeable about the topic. I thought to myself, “Uh, she’s a little
crazy.”
That was the
first time I met Bethany.
I know we
started school. My sophomore year and her freshman. But I don’t remember how or
when we became friends. To me, it’s like she walked on campus and we joined
hearts. This girl quickly became, as Anne and Diana, my bosom buddy.
As English
majors, we shared classes. We shared late nights and long talks. We shared
meals and disgusting amounts of junk food. We shared dorm rooms. We shared
hopes. We shared tears. We shared dreams.
We became
working professionals and wives and mothers . . . we became women together. Our
friendship was so much more than a college experience. It reached years and
levels beyond that.
The Bethany I
know and love embraced life, even chased after life, always on the hunt for an
adventure or an opportunity to belly laugh with her smile wide and head tossed
back . She danced to her own beat . . . and any other beat she heard. Music and
poetry and story moved her soul. She was loyal. In pain, in sorrow, in joy, in
love, she was uninhibited, causing those around her to relax, be at ease, to
believe in possibilities just around the corner. From sports to entertainment
to literature and theology to the psychology that makes us all tick; her
interest varied.
She loved her
friends thoroughly. She believed in and cherished her family relentlessly. Her
heart belonged to David and motherhood became her greatest joy.
But she, of
course, was not perfect. Bethany had insecurities. She was over-analytical. She
made mistakes. She grieved God. And she knew it, but she also knew the
transforming power of the gospel of Jesus Christ, the redemption found in Him.
The harshness of life and her failings and others did not crush her. She
believed Christ suffered and died and rose again to create a means for
humanity, for her to no longer be under the weight of sin and punishment and
death. She committed her life, along with her husband and children, to live out
the love of Christ however He wanted to use them.
This is the
woman we are remembering today . . . celebrating today . . . We are pausing to
give thanks to our kind and great God, who has not only bestowed on us every
spiritual blessing, but also chose us, allowed our paths to intersect with hers.
God could have chosen a millions other girls to be Beth’s bosom friend. I’m so
glad He chose me.
Beth, I love
you. I miss you. I will see you soon.
