reflecting April 8, 2007

It was a year ago today that I got the worst phone call of my life and heard that Lisa had been killed. My hilarious, irreverent, achingly sincere, beautiful, little sister of a friend was suddenly absent…decades before any of us would have consented to the possibility of parting with her.

I’ve spent most of this year in a white knuckled, beyond tears, blind rage that has been bewildering and consuming and exhausting. My hope in Christ has been brought so low that only His faithfulness remains. Mine is long gone.

And today is Easter. So I’m praying that the Jesus who astounded and comforted His bewildered, exhausted friends by rising from dead and revealing His glory to become the salvation and hope of the whole world will kiss the white knuckles and touch the blind, angry eyes of everyone who is aching for her. My consolation, my only consolation, is that she is with Christ. Our Lisa.

Call me strange, but I like cemeteries. Always have. I’m intrigued by what the dead and their families choose as parting declarations. And this is my favorite, from a grave in Winter Park, Florida:

Holy am I, free and whole, at rest in the heart of God.

Amen. Come, Lord Jesus.

Out of sorts… July 11, 2006

It is a sad thing when the only people you feel like talking to are dead.  I keep running into that today.  Overall, it’s been a good day: I wrote some emails, got my back crunched, enjoyed an americano, but instead of feeling relaxed I’m unsettled.

These days checking in with my family means talking to my sisters.  That’s it. End of list.  No more messages that start out with, “Yeah, elisse, it’s mom.  You’re probably out…”  And though this has been true for months it still makes me sick to my stomach when I think about it.  Along the same line, Lisa and I played some impressive games of phone tag but we never would have gone this long without talking. Ever.  I’m not going to that cemetary again until I’m sure they’ve placed a headstone because it is hugely disconcerting to go to a cemetary not be certain you’ve found your friend’s grave.  I know.  I’ve done it twice.

I also know that God has the victory in all things through Christ (1 Cor. 15 – it’s a great chapter.  you should read it. go run, find a Bible.) and I’m looking forward to the days when it feels true too. So if you read this and you see me, give me a hug.  Even if I’m laughing and smiling and look like I’ve got it all together…especially if I look like I’ve got it all together.