On the Passing of a Friend

Death is so abrupt. Even in situations where you might expect it, it is still a shock when it occurs. I lost a dear friend this week. I say dear because although we (mainly I) didn't keep in touch as much as I would have liked and maybe were not as close as we could have been, she was still someone I loved. I met my friend Allyson Teter at ORU. I was a freshman and she was a senior. I have no other memories of her but as a bright (both mentally and emotionally), giving, loving and considerate person. She didn't have to make friends with the only freshman on her dorm floor that year, but she did. Allyson was a petite bundle of energy and smiles and never failed to offer encouragement in her own sunshiny way.

I'm not really sure how our relationship developed into a friendship, but I suspect it was mostly due to her effort. Although I am a friendly person I am not always the best at keeping in touch. But even after she had graduated and moved on she kept in touch with me. Her phone calls were always a reason for smiles. She is one of the few people I know who would want to talk not about herself but about you. Every conversation I had with her was full of questions about me, encouragement for whatever I needed and always ending with prayer. Even when and after she was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis she remained positive and joyful and focused on others. I honestly cannot remember her once talking in a way that left any doubt that she believed that she would be healed.  Over the years we would talk and she would encourage not only me but also herself, remaining positive in the face of any circumstance we discussed. And always before we finished any conversation she would pray for me, for me! and my little daily challenges undisturbed by her own personal fight against MS. The last time I spoke to her was on her birthday not too many months ago. She was in such a physical state that she couldn't speak clearly and had a friend on her end of the phone trying to commnicate for her to me. Again, she asked about me, she asked about my sister (who she chaperoned during an extended stay in NYC) and was interested in my life. When the call ended I set my phone down and bawled. Not only was it distressing to know that my friend, who was so full of life and the love of life, had become so confined, but also that she was still more interested in my life than in herself was humbling.  I renewed my prayers for her healing. I really believed that she would be healed and I know Allyson didn't doubt that God would heal her. And in His own way He did.

That's the thing with God. Our minds are limited to the options that we can conceive and understand, but God's ways are not our own, his plans for us are bigger than we can ask or think of. So to pray for healing and expect a specific result is somewhat small-minded. I know that some people wouldn't consider Allyson stepping through the door to Heaven as a "legitimate" healing, but I bet from the other side of that door she would beg to differ. We all die. Our time on earth is so finite. To us, 80 years on earth might seem long in comparison to 30 years, but compared to eternity 30 years or 80 years isn't that much of a difference. I like to think that dying is like being born. A baby in the womb may think that the womb is the whole world, because it is the only world he knows. He knows nothing of the world outside the womb. He does not know that the womb is an incubating place a place for him to grow and develop so that he can function in the world outside. And then the birth comes and in a way it is abrupt and somewhat violent like death seems to be. But just like birth, death propels us into our home. The place we were created for. Earth is just our incubating place. A place for us to grow and develop and a place where God molds us into what we will become in eternity. Allyson's life on earth may seem short from our perspective, but the impact of that life was significant, at least for me. I can only speak for myself, but Ally made a difference in my life just by being herself. She made a difference by being my friend, by her prayers and by her attitude. And I am very sad to lose her to this life. But I am so happy to know that she is now home and fully and completely healed. I can't wait for the time when I see her again. Knowing Allyson she will be the first one on the other side of the door to Heaven waiting to say hello.

Invisible

Does anyone else ever feel invisible? Like no one really sees you, the real you? I feel that way alot. Although I suppose saying so is a little bit of "poor me", or a lack of self-esteem or whatever you want to call it. Actually, it's also probably selfish to say so, because if I wasn't focused on myself, I might not even notice that I feel invisible. And if I am one thing, I've figured out, its self-centered or maybe selfish. Although I consider those words somewhat interchangeable.

As a Christian I can say God sees me and knows me and I believe that, at least in my head, but somehow it's just not enough. It doesn't do much to make me feel better. Honestly, in a way it makes me feel a little bit worse, because it means He really sees me. All of me, even the dirty, ugly parts. I probably have a sanitized version of myself in my head. Meaning I believe myself to be someone with certain qualities which I may not actually possess. But God knows the truth. He knows I'm not who I wish I was. He knows that I'm not the person I create for others to see. He knows my heart. And although I believe my heart is seeking God, eager to be cleansed and pure, I'm scared that maybe it isn't. Maybe my heart is really not all those pretty things. Maybe I'm motivated by selfish, greedy, grasping things and not by love, kindness and peace. Maybe I'm uglier inside than even I imagine myself to be. I hope not, but I have a hidden fear that it's true.

That's why I believe it's important to be transparent. I've always been someone who wears my emotions on my sleeve. But now I try to be someone who wears her heart on her sleeve for everyone to see, the good, the bad and the ugly. I don't want to be fake or phony. Because we are all lost and seeking. It doesn't help anyone to put on a happy, shiny face. To me, I find hope when I see someone who isn't afraid to admit their mistakes, who isn't afraid to share the ugliness of their soul with the world. Someone who puts themselves out there, honestly. But it is a hard thing to do. Scary. Because most people are so busy protecting themselves that they don't appreciate that honesty in someone else.  To be transparent is to be vulnerable. To be transparent is to invite pain inside. Because people judge what they consider weak or wrong. Because people ridicule vulnerability because they can and it makes them feel better. Because people reject what makes them uncomfortable. There is a reason the Bible says not to cast your pearls before swine, but I have never been able to determine who the swine are and I have never been able to withhold my own pearls. So I just throw them out there for everyone. Sometimes they are treasured, but yes sometimes they are trampled. I don't really know how to do life any other way. It's either all or nothing. So I put myself out there, I open my heart for everyone to see what's inside, be it good or dark and ugly. I choose to be vulnerable. I choose to invite the pain in and most of the time I don't mind. Because hiding who we really are is actually more painful and a whole lot more difficult.

And yet with trying to stay transparent, with opening my heart, with choosing to love to the best of my ability, I still feel like I'm invisible. Ironic isn't it, that in trying to be transparent I would feel invisible? I feel like people think that they know me because I am open. I want people to feel they know me and yet I feel that so few do. Partly I believe that is because people feel like they know all of me when in reality I don't "show" all of me. Partly it coule be because I have always felt somewhat disconnected from others. I have always loved people, loved being around people, loved getting to know people, but yet within all of that I've always felt somewhat lonely. There will be times I will be in a group of good friends or family and I'll have a strong pang of lonliness settle on me like I don't really belong and even these friends and family members can't really know me. I'm a very outgoing friendly person, but I'm also a very introspective internal person too. I know that those closest to me "see" me, but it's through a filter. I'm always a daughter, sister, wife. I don't feel like I'm ever really me. My mom probably knows me the best but then she can't help but relate to me as her daughter and that filters everything she knows about me.

As for everyone else, I share bits and pieces of myself here and there with those who have taken the time to dig deeper.  Sometimes I feel a strong connection to a person and it seems like they feel quite the opposite. I think that upsets me the most. When I think I really "click" with someone and they just don't care enough to make an effort or reciprocate. I take it personally which it most likely isn't. At times like that I want to cry. At times like that I really feel not only invisible, but rejected. Nobody likes that. But you know what? I keep trying. I keep choosing to be open and vulnerable. I keep choosing to love people who put me at the bottom of their priority list. I don't know, but I feel like I'm growing through it all.