Like Pieces of a Puzzle

Ten days ago, in the middle of my workday, I received a text that made my heart sink. My 33-year-old cousin Adam had passed away unexpectedly. My first reaction was sharp pain as I thought of my Aunt Sue and Uncle Jeff. Ever since I've been a mother, hearing about the loss of anyone's child tears at my own heart because I can't help putting myself in their shoes.

My second reaction was regret. I had been out of contact with Adam for a couple of years, and he'd been on my mind that very week. I wondered how he was doing and thought that I should send him a letter to catch him up on all of my teaching adventures. I'd had similar thoughts off and on for a long time, and now I was kicking myself for not taking the time when I had the chance. 

Although Adam was 14 years younger than me and lived 1100 miles away in Indiana, I was probably closer to him than to any of my other 25 first cousins. Our friendship began in 2011 when Aunt Sue asked several family members to write Adam while he was in prison. Through the influence of a chaplain, he had grown closer to Christ in prison and had a strong faith, but he was lonely and sometimes discouraged by the poor conditions he encountered there. 

A recent picture. Don't his eyes draw you in?

My first couple of letters were a little awkward; I wondered what we could possibly have in common, aside from our faith. I wondered if he would have any interest in an "old lady's" stories. But I quickly discovered that Adam was an avid letter writer, just like me. He loved to talk about God's goodness and the power of the Word. He had a way of making a story come to life, and he could really make me laugh with his silly sense of humor. 

At age 5, Allyson also wrote Adam letters, mainly consisting of adorable pictures. Adam raved over her pictures, saying they made his heart happy. He said he was saving them to make a collage when he got out of prison. Allyson beamed with pride when I read her his lavish praises, and she was overjoyed when she received her very own letters.

We were both always elated when a thick envelope arrived in the mail. We'd save them for after dinner, when we'd snuggle up on the couch and rip them open. Adam never wrote stingy little letters about the weather. No, his letters were nice and fat--unless he was out of paper and had to scrounge up a single sheet. He would fill each page all the way to the bottom, and then he'd often add one or two more quick thoughts or scriptures in the side margins. 

About a year into our five-year correspondence, I went through my divorce. As soon as I realized my marriage was falling apart, I wrote him a long letter. He replied, "I pray for you continually and for your family. I want you to know that you can spill your emotions anytime you need to. I feel blessed to be able to listen to you and learn from you at the same time. God is faithful and will reveal His plan for you. He will carry you through and complete His good works He has begun in you. (Phil 1:6)"

Taking Adam at his word, I filled pages and pages with all of my heartaches, fears, and regrets. He always had a compassionate, encouraging word for me. Based on his own experiences, he urged me to let go of the past and trust God with my future. Here is a quote that he sent from the book Lessons From San Quentin, by Bill Dallas:

As I finished out the school day last week, I prayed silently each time I had a free moment. "Lord, I'd really like to be there with Aunt Sue. If it's your will, would you please work it all out for me?" 

When I got home and searched for flights, I was astonished to find an $88 round-trip, direct flight to Chicago! In the past, I've never been able to fly there for under $200, and typically it's closer to $300. For an agonizing 30 minutes, I texted back and forth with colleagues and with my principal about requesting a personal day on short notice. As soon as Mr. L told me it was safe to purchase my ticket, I ran the search again with trembling fingers. Still there! I booked it!

I sent a text to my siblings to see if anyone else could fly up with me, but it seemed that no one else would be able to arrange it. I sighed heavily as I contemplated my solitary trip to catch the South Shore train into South Bend: a ride on the L train plus a two-block walk in the frigid streets of the Windy City, lugging my suitcase behind me. I've done it several times before, and I wasn't afraid to do it in the daylight, but... 

"Lord," I prayed. "If you don't mind, I'd really like some company on my trip. Even so, not my will, but yours. I know you will be with me if I have to travel alone." 

The next morning, my brother Rick sent a text that I didn't see because I was driving to work. Twenty minutes later, I happened to see his call coming in on my silenced phone just as I arrived at the school. He'd found the same deal online and wanted to verify my itinerary. He actually had more options than I'd found, but he wanted to be sure we'd be on the same flights. My heart warmed at the thought of my big brother looking out for me. 

A few hours later, I learned that the 20-minute delay caused by my safe driving habits had cost my brother a few hundred dollars. When he went back online to purchase his tickets, the price had gone up to $429. Ouch! He bought them anyway.

"Oh, thank you, Lord," I prayed as I fell into bed after a frenzied evening of laundry, dishes, and packing. 

When we landed in Chicago on Saturday morning, instead of taking the L, we rode a shuttle to the rental car place. Having grown up in Indiana, Rick has no fear of driving in snow and ice. 

On the drive, we talked for two solid hours, mostly about our views of God and how we connect with Him and with each other. We arrived in Nappanee just in time to gobble some lunch at my Aunt Cyndi's house before heading to the viewing. 

After tearful hugs with Uncle Jeff and Aunt Sue, we spent a few hours catching up with our gigantic family. I didn't even recognize some of my cousins' children, who are now in junior high and high school. 

Rick and I spent the rest of the evening with Aunt Cyndi and Uncle Jim, and I went to church with them the next morning. As always, it was a pleasure to worship with my family. This time, it was especially sweet because all of the songs and also the sermon seemed to be chosen just for us. When we sang these words, Cyndi and I smiled at each other through our tears:

I want to be close, close to Your side
So Heaven is real and death is a lie
I want to hear voices of angels above
Singing as one... Hallelujah
God Almighty, the great I AM

Sometimes when I'm worshiping at church, I feel a connection with all believers everywhere, across time. I perceive that we are one choir, singing with the angels and the saints who have gone before us. I know that God is outside time, and I believe he can hear all of creation singing his praises in exquisite harmony.

I felt that way on this morning, only even better, because I was picturing Adam in Heaven singing with the angels, and singing with us, too. 

After church, I had the privilege and pleasure of praying with Aunt Cyndi. Holding hands, we prayed that hearts broken by sorrow would be open to receive the Word at the funeral later that day. We prayed that someone would find healing and hope.

It's How You Finish

I believe God answered our prayer about the funeral. I wasn't the only one who said it was the best funeral I'd ever been to. When people stood up to share the ways that Adam had touched their lives, we all learned things we never knew about him. 

Uncle Jeff was the first to share. He told us how proud he was of the man that Adam had become, of how he had grown in his faith and turned his life around. He reminded us that we never know how long we have with our loved ones, and he urged us to make the most of our time with them. Speaking with passion and authority, he told us what he believed Adam would have wanted to say. "You don't know if you have tomorrow. If you haven't made your life right with Jesus, don't wait. Today is the day of salvation." 

Adam's brother Wes spoke next, and he expressed sorrow over not getting the chance to catch up on all the time they'd missed. Although Adam was no longer in prison, he'd been on house arrest for the last year and a half or so, and was only able to go to work and church. Within another year, he would have finished his time, and they had both been looking forward to spending more time together. 

Wes and his sister Brianne reminisced over funny memories of Adam's mischievous childhood, such as the two times when he'd "driven" the family car as a toddler.

After the family spoke, several more people came to the mic to share stories. I loved hearing how Adam shared Christ with everyone he met in prison. A former chaplain said that he had been such a light that he'd selfishly wished he could stay forever. A man who'd roomed with Adam in prison talked about how they'd studied the Bible together.

I was most moved by two of Adam's stepsons, both teenagers. They described the way their Papa had mentored them and drawn them closer to God. One said Adam was the best dad he ever had, and the other said he was the only dad he ever had. 

I felt humbled by their stories. I have to confess that I initially thought Adam's marriage to an older woman with seven children and four grandchildren was... well, highly unusual. I wondered how such a young man would adapt to becoming an instant father and grandfather. But last weekend I learned that Adam took great joy in his family. He considered those children his own. He was both a father and a friend to them. The whole family had lots of fun together. He and Gloria shared a fervent love that weathered the challenges of his incarceration. Their story reminded me that real love doesn't follow a pattern.

Adam and Gloria

I think I was the last person to share. "I'm another person who Adam helped while he was in prison," I began. I talked about his letters and explained what an encouragement he had been to me during my divorce. I shared what I remembered of the Bill Dallas quote, and I ended by sharing a funny story from one of Adam's letters. Although many people laughed over it, anyone who heard my version will see that I didn't do it justice. Here is the story in Adam's own words:

3/31/13 - Today is Easter, and I have a funny story. We have a smoking area outside of our dorm. There's a little mouse that comes up every morning because we feed it. Well, on Friday this idiot named Travis killed it. He threw it in the cig-butt canister. I've had my work shoes outside all weekend airing out. Last night I brought them in and put them in my locker so they wouldn't get rained on. I was awakened at 5:30 this morning to the sound of little paws scratching in my locker. I opened it up and a cute little field mouse popped out of my shoe and started running around the room. I grabbed my ball cap and scooped him up and took him outside. We then investigated and checked the cig-butt canister. No body! I named the mouse Jesus because he was killed on Good Friday. Today (Easter) his tomb was empty, and he has risen from the dead and dwells among us! What a witness that was to me of what today represents. God is everywhere working in all things. You just have to have open eyes to see.

One of the things Adam and I loved about each other is that we both saw God in the little things that happen in everyday life. I also loved the way Adam made me laugh when I needed it most. There are plenty more stories where that one came from, and I hope to share more with you soon. 

The last song played at the funeral was I Am Redeemed, by Big Daddy Weave. I can't imagine there were many dry eyes in the house, because that song beautifully captures Adam's story. I love the way Pastor Dave explained it. He said that Adam's life before prison was like the first half of a football game. It was looking really bad, but then there was a turnaround in the last half. He said it's how you finish that counts, and Adam finished his race well. 

After the service, we all huddled together around the hearse--like emperor penguins, Rick said. Just before the car carried his body away, someone started singing Amazing Grace, and we all joined in. I was struck by the way my heart could feel so warm even as my body shivered violently.   

After dinner at the church, most of the family gathered at Aunt Sue and Uncle Jeff's house. We hugged, cried, laughed, and ate way too many desserts. It was such a sweet time, and I'm thankful God allowed me to share it. 

Aunt Cyndi, Aunt Sue, Brianne, JD

Aunt Sue, Rick, Me

I wasn't sure where I'd sleep that night. Aunt Sue had invited me to spend the night, but I was concerned about creating extra work for her when she needed to rest. She put both hands on my shoulders and looked in my eyes. "I want you to stay," she said quietly. So I did.

When my alarm went off the next morning, my first thoughts were, "Oh no, time to get up... Wait, where am I?... Aunt Sue!!" 

I bounded out of bed and hurried to the living room, where I found my beloved aunt curled up in the comfy chair with her Bible. She eagerly showed me a verse that had just come alive for her: 

In peace I will both lie down and sleep; for you alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety. (Psalms 4:8)

We marveled together over how the Holy Spirit can give a verse a personal meaning for us that differs from the original context, yet remains true to the spirit of the message. Aunt Sue had indeed slept in peace, the same peace that had carried her through both the loss of her son and the pain of his imprisonment years earlier. 

We reveled in the bond that God has woven between us through years of shared prayers over multiple hardships.

Rick and I spent our last evening with my dad's side of the family. The best part was gathering around my cousin René's cozy iron stove and talking with my cousins and my dear Aunt Carol.  

God's Girl

All too soon, Rick and I had to return home. We stopped for lunch and a nice, long chat at my dear Aunt Mary and Uncle Dave's house, the former home of our grandparents and a place of rich memories for us both. Then we headed out onto the snow-covered roads. We ran into some heavy snow along the way, and I worried that our 9:40 PM flight could be canceled, stranding us in Chicago.

If you click the picture to enlarge it, you'll see that those flakes were the size of small snowballs.

I needn't have worried. God was still taking care of his girl. We reached the airport several hours early and checked with a ticket agent as to whether I could fly standby on my basic economy fare. He said that normally it was not allowed, but they were making exceptions that day because of the weather. So we checked our bags on the 6:45 flight and hoped they'd be waiting for us at the other end if we didn't make the cut. 

After a delicious dinner in an airport bar, we found our gate and checked the standby list. Rick was 12, and I was 14. "I'd put our chances at zero," Rick said.

"You never know," I said. 

A few minutes later, Rick's name was called, and we headed to the counter. The gate agent said that he could probably get Rick on, but we'd need to split up. He was sure he could get me a seat on the next flight, around 8:30.

"Go ahead, Rick," I urged. "We have to work tomorrow. I can take an Uber home." 

"No," he said. "I can wait. Gives me an excuse to have another beer." 

"Where at?" the agent asked.

Rick gestured toward the bar we'd just left. 

"Oh, I know a much better place," he said. "It has craft beers." 

They had a quick conversation about beer, and about the man's upcoming trip to Austin, where he'd find even better beer, perhaps. 

I can't be sure, but I think what happened next was due to my brother's gregarious nature. Pressing his lips together, the gate agent said, "Hmm." Then he tapped a few keys. 

"I think I have a couple of no-shows," he said. He called out two names and then said, "Going-going-gone!" 

After a few more taps on the keyboard, he handed us two boarding passes. "Have a great flight!" he said.

Rick slapped his palm against mine. "Boo-yah!" he said. 

For just a moment, I felt a little guilty about poor passenger #13. But then I smiled and thought, "Yep, I'm His girl." And then I thought, "I've got the best big brother in the world." 

So that's how I wound up getting into bed at 10 PM instead of 1 AM, on a work night. 

Pieces of a Puzzle

Through Facebook, I learned the perspectives of other people who attended the funeral. My cousin Wes said:

I was blown away by the reception my brother received and the testimonies I heard yesterday. It will take time to heal. It always does. But I left the funeral feeling good. His legacy was unfolded in honest words and memories. Sometimes these tragic events can be overburdened with clichés and niceties. I felt none of that, and for that I am grateful.

Aunt Judy said:

I was overwhelmed at the love and testimonies that flowed out to everyone at Adams service. He was truly an inspiration to many people in all his walks and talks of life. Adam you were loved beyond measure and and God is saying well done my good and faithful servant.

My cousin Shelley said:

I have never left a funeral feeling more inspired than I did yesterday. I learned so much about Adam and the impact that he had on so many people’s lives. I’m so glad we have a redeeming God and your brother used his redemption as a ministry to help others that have been in situations that he personally understood. 

And my cousin Jamie said:

I could not agree more. I had all these little puzzle pieces of Adam’s life leading up to the funeral. After listening to all the people who spoke and Pastor Dave’s ability to place all the pieces together, the true picture of Adam’s life came together. What a great picture it is and one I will cherish.

I love the idea of our lives being a puzzle. We have so many different sides, and only God can fully know us. But when we come together to celebrate a life well lived, we can get a glimpse of the big picture that God was designing all along. 

I also see my family as a puzzle. We come in different shapes and sizes, with different political and religious views, but when it really matters we can come together and make something beautiful.