COME TO THE FEAST

A most wonderful situation seems to be developing and I believe I see God's hand moving in it.

A few weeks ago I was fretting because my friend Pat needed help in recovering his identification papers. Someone had taken his driver license, Social Security card and all other i.d. You cannot replace these things without a picture i.d. Which you cannot get without a picture i.d. You can see how this becomes a vicious cycle. I had checked out some information and needed to start taking Pat some places to help him get what he needed. The problem was that I only have Mondays available and Pat was working six days a week, unless it rained.

I had not seen Pat for several weeks, and finally managed to reach him by phone. I found he had been sick and was no longer working at the car wash. Good news/bad news situation. Anyway, that particular Monday he was feeling well enough for us to begin the journey. We started by applying for his birth certificate. The lady said when he came to pick it up, he would need a picture i.d. I explained all his identification had been stolen. She asked if I was related to him. I told her I was just his friend. She looked at me and said, "Don't worry about it - I'll take care of it." Thank you, God.

I took Pat by the Workforce Commission so he could start applying for other jobs. There is a whole other story about THAT experience, but at least we were moving. We also were able to get a coat for Pat, because he had loaned his to someone and his loan ended up being an unvoluntary gift. Pat is so proud of his coat. How easy it is to do something for someone and have it mean so much.

Backtracking a week or so, my friend Duane had just moved back to Abilene after having been gone for two or three years. He was looking for a ministry and a place to serve. He is disabled and could offer transportation to people who needed to get places.

I gave Duane's phone number to Pat and told him to call Duane so he could take him to the Social Security office and the Public Safety office to complete the identification replacement. I told Duane what Pat needed to do. After a few bumps in the road, they got connected. Duane has been Pat's transportation and mentor, and in the process Pat has been able to fulfill some of Duane's needs for someone to help him unpack boxes and move furniture. This, I believe, is developing into a friendship and Duane has invited Pat to move in and live with him until he can get on his feet.

Pat is revelling in having a bed he can call his own - home cooked meals - and being around someone who will not tempt him into his old life.

Duane is thriving on having someone who can help him with his apartment, accepts him just as he is without any judgement being passed, and enthuses at his cooking.

I think this is a developing friendship that God has created. I pray that it is. I believe that it is. I see much good coming from this. I praise God that two men with great needs have come together to become support for each other. I am thankful that I was the conduit that could bring them together. I pray that I will be the right person in the right place many more times.

Last Sunday evening our Lifeteam was scheduled to hold a time of remembering Kerri. She died one year ago. I chose not to attend. It was not that I did not want to remember Kerri. I do not ever want to forget Kerri. There were personal reasons I chose not to remember in a group setting.

I remember so many things about Kerri. Her infectious smile that seemed never to go away. The way she could talk to anyone about her God, even the telemarketer who called her on the phone. The way she cared for her beautiful girls. The grace she had to forgive Tony and the way she never had unkind things to speak about him. The way she always wanted to protect her girls from her illness. The crazy things she would do. The times she brought the girls by the house on Halloween and how she would be dressed up with them. How she shared a bed with Jolee in Houston, even though she was so tired and couldn't rest, because Jolee needed that assurance that her mom was okay. There is much good to remember about Kerri and I will not forget that about her.

At the same time as I learned that Kerri had died, I learned that my co-worker, Karen, had been sent home to Abilene, because the hospital in Lubbock felt they had no more treatment for her cancer. I have often thought of the contrast of the way Karen and Kerri lived their last days. Both were diagnosed within a few weeks of each other. They died within months of each other. But their last months on earth were so different.

Their lives had been different - Kerri talking always about her Lord and how she was longing to see him. Karen never mentioned God much. But in the end, Kerri withdrew from everyone and spent her last days alone. Away from friends and family. Shutting out those who loved her and cared about her and who wanted to walk that last journey with her. Karen, on the other hand, drew her friends and family around her. She couldn't get enough time with those she cared about. She granted grace and forgiveness to me and allowed me to walk with her through that last journey. She spent her last days on earth making sure that her family and friends knew how much they meant to her. Her last conscious day she was dictating a thank you note to me, having her sister write it for her because she was no longer strong enough to write herself. Even when the doctor and family didn't think she was strong enough to have company, she wanted people around.

I have grieved much over Kerri's decision. It was her decision to make. I know that. But I saw how much joy Karen had from just a few minutes of time with her daughter and grandson and son and siblings. And I know what it meant to each of us to have that time with her.

There was time at the funeral home for visiting with the family and sharing memories and seeing other friends and sharing grief and loss. At the funeral, there was a special seating section marked off just for those of us who had worked with Karen - a public proclamation that we were important to her.

In contrast, there was no visitation with Kerri's family. No time to celebrate her life and mourn her passing. Nothing special for those of us who had met with her on Sunday evenings for much of the past two years. Who had gathered round her and prayed over her. Who had prayed against hope that her husband would come back to her. That the tumor would not be malignant. That the cancer would go away.

Kerri gave a lot of hugs during her life. I usually was not a recipient of those. That hurt. Being shut out of her death caused hurt, also. So, I mourn for her. I lament. I just have to do it my way.

Last Sunday evening our church held a Lament service for anyone who wanted to attend to lament over loss in their life. They had the names of anyone related to Highland families who had died over the past year mounted on boards and posted in the Atrium. There were names of the very young and the very old, and those in between. At the end of the service, we were given the opportunity to go to the front of the auditorium and light candles in memory of those who had died. I had three candles to light, just for those close to me, and could have lit more. In just a matter of months last year, I lost a member of our Lifeteam, one of our college "kids," an uncle, a co-worker and a former neighbor.

Lament services are something new to me and I think to most. There are things I would like to have added, but it was a good start.

My daughter's hand clung to mine most of the service, as she particularly grieved the loss of her friend. As we were returning to our seats from lighting the candles, members of the Sheets family were coming forward. They had lost their 19-year-old brother just before Christmas in an automobile accident. I was haunted particularly by the face of Zach, who looked as though he was still in a state of shock and not even sure where he was. And the grief of Landon, whose tears would not stop flowing. They were surrounded by many friends. After the service was over, they still hung around and we gave them hugs. I shared with them what I hoped would be some words they could hold on to - something I have learned through my own grief - It will not always hurt as bad as it does right now. Some day the pain will be lessened. Just hold on to the good memories.

Precious memories, unseen angels
Sent from somewhere to my soul
How they linger, ever near me
And the sacred scenes unfold.

Precious memories, how they linger
How they ever flood my soul
In the stillness of the midnight
Precious, sacred scenes unfold.

Precious father, loving mother
Fly across the lonely years
And old home scenes of my childhood
In fond memory appear.

Precious memories, how they linger
How they ever flood my soul
In the stillness of the midnight
Precious, sacred scenes unfold

In the stillness of the midnight
Echoes from the past I hear
Old-time singing, gladness bringing
From that lovely land somewhere.

Precious memories, how they linger
How they ever flood my soul
In the stillness of the midnight
Precious, sacred scenes unfold

As I travel on life's pathway
Know not what the years may hold
As I ponder, hope grows fonder
Precious memories flood my soul.

Precious memories, how they linger
How they ever flood my soul
In the stillness of the midnight
Precious, sacred scenes unfold

J.B.F.Wright