Goodbye David, my friend
I must have been 12 or 13 when a new pair of youth leaders joined our church - actually, it was two young couples who were students at the college where my best friend's father was dean of students. David, Janet, Randy, and Deanna - they were a breath of fresh air for our little youth group. Compared to the others who stepped in from time to time, these young men and women had energy and vision - they wanted to serve God in our church while they were in our city for college.
Of them all, David was the one who really interested me. He was a big guy - with dark blonde hair, parted on the side, but it always fell across his eyes. He never seemed at home in the suit coat and tie - jeans and a casual shirt were more his style. Most important of all, he didn't seem to mind my incessant questions, nor did he think them rebellious. He recognized my desire to dig deeper into spiritual things and to move past the platitudes most often uttered by those in authority. And, he was the first person who I felt was on a first name basis with God. This is not to say he was a highly religious man - quite the contrary. He just didn't pray with thee's and thou's - he prayed like he was talking to a friend.
I remember him sitting in a overstuffed arm chair in the front of the fellowship hall. When he taught us, he didn't stand behind a pulpit or podium, he invited us to pull up a chair so he could share his thoughts. "God, the Father," he said, "is not some white-haired old man sitting on an ivory throne with a bunch of lightning bolts in his hands, waiting for us to step out of line. He's a loving Father who has placed rules and guidelines in a love letter called the Bible. He gives us those guidelines and rules to protect us from harm and to help us live productive lives." He encouraged us to read the Bible with a loving father in mind. To a teen girl who was 3 years old when her father abandoned her family, this was heady stuff. God is really my Father and wants to have a father-daughter relationship with me? He doesn't think badly of me because I come from a 'broken' family?
Over the course of time, David shared with us his love of the Rocky Mountains. I was born in Denver, I spent the first 14 years of my life there but I never hiked in the mountains until I met David. The youth group went to the mountains in all the seasons - we hiked up trails to experience vistas that were so beautiful that one could not help but be profoundly changed. He taught us to tread lightly and leave nothing but footprints. And, in one of the defining periods of my life, we back-packed for several days through the Sangre de Cristos, carrying all our gear on our backs. We walked through alpine meadows, trudged up slippery slopes and even spent one night huddled in our tents on a 13,000 ft ridge during a horrendous thunderstorm. We camped in places one could only access by foot. We studied the book of Ephesians by fire light. This man from Kansas introduced me, a native, to my home state and to the true love of my heavenly Father. I will be forever grateful for those things.
Over the next few years, things dramatically changed. I moved away. David and my best friend, Beth, were married and had four children. I married and had my two. For a time, Matt and I lived nearby. David gave me the nickname, "Old Overdue" while I was pregnant with my son (I carried both my babies for an extended time!) Beth and David were the initial inspiration for Matt and I choosing to give birth at home rather than in a hospital.
We moved, they moved, lives went on and now, it has been almost 20 years since I have seen David. I waited too long because he has now moved beyond my reach. Sadly, David slipped from this world last Monday.
He has left behind his soulmate and companion of many years, Londa - I hope she knows we are praying for her. He has four children (what a lucky man!) and a new grandbaby, Emma, who are grieving. Beth, my dear friend, is heart-broken - they were married for many years and, though they divorced, they still loved each other as friends.
And, me. Goodbye, my friend. I'll see you, later.
Of them all, David was the one who really interested me. He was a big guy - with dark blonde hair, parted on the side, but it always fell across his eyes. He never seemed at home in the suit coat and tie - jeans and a casual shirt were more his style. Most important of all, he didn't seem to mind my incessant questions, nor did he think them rebellious. He recognized my desire to dig deeper into spiritual things and to move past the platitudes most often uttered by those in authority. And, he was the first person who I felt was on a first name basis with God. This is not to say he was a highly religious man - quite the contrary. He just didn't pray with thee's and thou's - he prayed like he was talking to a friend.
I remember him sitting in a overstuffed arm chair in the front of the fellowship hall. When he taught us, he didn't stand behind a pulpit or podium, he invited us to pull up a chair so he could share his thoughts. "God, the Father," he said, "is not some white-haired old man sitting on an ivory throne with a bunch of lightning bolts in his hands, waiting for us to step out of line. He's a loving Father who has placed rules and guidelines in a love letter called the Bible. He gives us those guidelines and rules to protect us from harm and to help us live productive lives." He encouraged us to read the Bible with a loving father in mind. To a teen girl who was 3 years old when her father abandoned her family, this was heady stuff. God is really my Father and wants to have a father-daughter relationship with me? He doesn't think badly of me because I come from a 'broken' family?
Over the course of time, David shared with us his love of the Rocky Mountains. I was born in Denver, I spent the first 14 years of my life there but I never hiked in the mountains until I met David. The youth group went to the mountains in all the seasons - we hiked up trails to experience vistas that were so beautiful that one could not help but be profoundly changed. He taught us to tread lightly and leave nothing but footprints. And, in one of the defining periods of my life, we back-packed for several days through the Sangre de Cristos, carrying all our gear on our backs. We walked through alpine meadows, trudged up slippery slopes and even spent one night huddled in our tents on a 13,000 ft ridge during a horrendous thunderstorm. We camped in places one could only access by foot. We studied the book of Ephesians by fire light. This man from Kansas introduced me, a native, to my home state and to the true love of my heavenly Father. I will be forever grateful for those things.
Over the next few years, things dramatically changed. I moved away. David and my best friend, Beth, were married and had four children. I married and had my two. For a time, Matt and I lived nearby. David gave me the nickname, "Old Overdue" while I was pregnant with my son (I carried both my babies for an extended time!) Beth and David were the initial inspiration for Matt and I choosing to give birth at home rather than in a hospital.
We moved, they moved, lives went on and now, it has been almost 20 years since I have seen David. I waited too long because he has now moved beyond my reach. Sadly, David slipped from this world last Monday.
He has left behind his soulmate and companion of many years, Londa - I hope she knows we are praying for her. He has four children (what a lucky man!) and a new grandbaby, Emma, who are grieving. Beth, my dear friend, is heart-broken - they were married for many years and, though they divorced, they still loved each other as friends.
And, me. Goodbye, my friend. I'll see you, later.
posted by OurayDreamer at 11:00 PM
1 Comments:
so i just took the political compass test...not where i thought i'd be...
Economic Left/Right: -0.88
Social Libertarian?Authoritarian: 0.62
interesting stuff
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