Thanksgiving brought the news that my uncle passed away. Sunday morning, my husband began the day with an e-mail from a dear friend, letting us know he has an inoperable brain tumor, then a text letting him know a former coworker died unexpectedly during the weekend.
It's a lot to take in.
It is, for me, the kind of news that makes you want to pull the covers over your head and hide.
Last night kept me up, sorting through details of the lives of these men.
My uncle lived in Eau Claire, Wisconsin. He was married to my dad's sister who has survived him. They have three children who have loved them well and have made sure he and my aunt are well taken care of. I will never think of my aunt and uncle without the sound of a thick, northern Wisconsin accent coming to mind. I loved listening to my uncle talk; it engendered a sort of comfort, like listening to the voices of family members on my dad's side does. He and my aunt had a passion for traditional worship services, which I couldn't relate to, but they also lived lives marked by a deep faith in the Lord, which I have as a legacy.
He had cancer and had been in hospice for a while now. His wife has been under the impression that after he passed, she would go back home from the assisted living center where she's been staying, "to be close to him." She hasn't accepted the fact that she can't go home... she can't care for herself properly anymore. I probably saw my uncle 20 times in my whole life, and really, these few facts are all I know about him.
Our friend, who has been diagnosed with a brain tumor, lived across the street from me while I was in high school. I met his children a few times back then. They would come to the VBS my church offered during the summer. I never really met him until about four years ago when my husband and I were serving on staff at that same church. My first impressions of him were that he was quiet and kind, and, extremely tall. It wouldn't be long before we would find out that he was quite a guitar player as well. He hadn't played in many years, but he was interested in helping me with a worship team I was trying to get together. The next few months, I watched him get the rust off his rested fingers and he endured my growing pains as a new worship leader. He, my husband, and I spent hours getting our unique arrangements of worship songs down every week for the Sunday service, and later, went through the church's transition of becoming a bilingual congregation together... adding new members, stumbling over Spanish, learning new songs.
We found out he hadn't played in all that time because his wife had been ill. He spent his time taking care of her until he came home one day and found her. She felt like she had become a burden and decided ending her life was the only answer. Our friend withdrew from everyone and became a sort of hermit, until he felt like the end of life was a welcome option for him, too. He decided to run to the Lord, came into the church (which just happened to be open that day), went up to the altar, and prayed with the pastor of the church (who just happened to be there at that moment). We watched him come alive in the short year we served at that church. We found that he was well known throughout the community, he was funny and accommodating and loved his kids and grandkids as much as anyone ever has.
His tumor is cancerous and his time is short.
Information about my husband's coworker comes to me second-hand. I never met him. I only know that he was probably in his late 40s or early 50's, he was loud when he spoke, and he was alone. No wife or kids. I also know he was alone when he died. He was depressed, was on medication, and drank a lot. If anyone has the specifics on how he passed, we're not privileged to know it, but we know that when his father found him, he had passed at least a day before. He was so disconnected from family and friends, that even when he didn't show up for Thanksgiving dinner, it didn't really draw red flags for people.
I can look at my uncle and know he had a productive life, made connections with others, and in his own ways made things better for those around him. Same for our friend, who has given such a huge gift of compassion to people around him and has done his best to love well. My uncle is in heaven, has seen the face of our Savior. Our friend looks forward heaven even as he tries to tie up loose ends here on earth. But the coworker? Where was the hope?
The answer came, as they often do, through a conversation with one of my children. After we had sent her to bed last night, my youngest came downstairs, crying. We had talked about these things earlier in the day, but she had focused on the coworker. She was heartbroken because all she could think about was that this man was alone when he died and, in all likelihood, didn't know Jesus. Now, he is alone forever. We tried to comfort her with the thought that we don't know what God does in a person's heart in the few moments before death and we can't be sure where this man will spend eternity. The thing we can depend on is that God is good and he is loving.
I realized that the hope for this man was everywhere. For whatever reason, he couldn't see it. It isn't that the first two men never had terrible things happen to them or lived a disappointment-free life. It was that they chose and continued to choose to see the hope... to let God give them hope. Because they knew that even in the difficulty, God is ultimately good and he is loving.
In some ways I have been afraid to do the very things that make life worth it -- be productive, make connections, and love well -- because I might fail and hurt someone, or they might fail and hurt me. But, in the end, those connections are the sum and total of our lives... lives well lived. And the only thing that has ever truly sustained anyone is God's love and goodness.
So, Lord, help me to live life well today, knowing that my hope, my help, my strength begins and ends with you. And help me to realize that this day is an opportunity, not a chore.
One thing God has spoken, two things have I heard: that you, O God, are strong, and that you, O Lord, are loving. Surely you will reward each person according to what he has done. Psalm 62:11-12
