In Memory of David L.

Tonight I'm remembering this Friday night a year ago, when I went to the hospital to welcome a friend's newborn girl, then to the funeral home to say goodbye to David, then to work a 12-hour night shift at 911. That was a night when I didn't think my emotions could handle anything else.

In the year since David passed away, I have remembered him as a rock in that church, a pillar. Always there, always faithful. I have bittersweet memories of my 8 years in Tennessee, but one memory is that David and and his wife showed me that marriage is faithfulness through it all, to the very end, no matter what.

Saturday, March 10, 2007

It seems that I've been to a lot of funerals lately. My grandfather, a co-worker, another co-worker's child, and today, a godly man I know from church. He was truly a giver and encourager and will be greatly missed.

Today as I went to David's funeral, I was exhausted from a long week and very emotional. I looked at the crowd of people there and was so grateful for this man's life, and the lives he impacted. His family, his friends, his church were there to say goodbye. As I drove to the graveyard behind a long line of cars (must have been 40 or 50), I watched as most drivers and those passing by stopped to allow us pass. How honored David was by all these people.

Working at 911 and dealing with death more than I ever thought I would is hard. I won't go into the stories and scenarios on here, but I know about so many deaths. Sometimes I know too many details, yet so far in this job, I've never known the person or family of the deceased. I am grateful for that. Yet so often people in this city die, and you wonder if anyone even cares. I hear of deaths yet never see that person's obituary. Some people are loved, others are forgotten.

Yesterday I went to the hospital to see a friend's newborn baby, and a nurse happened to ask me where I work. I told her I work at 911, and she said "that's worse than being a nurse." I might argue that; I know I couldn't be a nurse. But it's a hard job, so many unfinished stories, so little closure.

I do know this: I went into this job caring a lot about people. I was also soft. Two and a half years later, I am so grateful for the experiences I have had at 911. I have learned and grown a lot; and I'm a lot tougher than I used to be. And I still care about people. I know more about the hurt and fear and concerns of small town America. I know more about the needs of people. I grieve; today I grieve the loss of a man who I know is in a much better place now. I remember the many others who slip through the cracks of society and the church. There are a lot of forgotten people in this world.

At the graveside service today, someone shared about David's love for people. Without a doubt he loved people. I remember him faithfully serving both people from the church and people from the streets. He loved to serve at a soup kitchen downtown. I remember him standing at the window handing out trays of food to those who came. He loved people.

I guess my conclusions to these thoughts are this: I want my love for God to overflow into my love for people. Without God, we don't really know love, because God is love. I want to remember the forgotten, to love both the church and the rest of the world.

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One final thought: As the church and so many have prayed for months for David's healing, I want to remind you that we didn't fail. As David was getting sicker, his wife told me he would mumble in his sleep, and she finally realized he was praying. I love Hebrews 11, where it talks about all the great men and women of faith. Verse 13 says: "All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance." I think that's what living by faith is all about. Believing for healing, believing for a miracle, believing for God to do what he says he will do. And if you don't see those things happen, you live by faith until you die. Once a man or woman of faith dies, they're with God, they died faithfully and valiantly, and it can't get much better!

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Okay, one more thought and then I think I'm done. (It's been quite a week to debrief from.) David lived by faith until he died; he also lived out a godly marriage until the very end. In a world where even Christians often seem to screw up marriage, it's awesome to see a truly godly marriage. A couple of months ago I left David and his wife in the hospital room after a visit. She had been at his side from morning to night, and often in the end she was at his side 24-7. As I left the hospital one night I realized that I was seeing a godly marriage, a couple who was committed to loving one another and staying together "until death do us part." 35 years. Two peas in a pod, you can't imagine one without the other. May we, the next generation, remember marriages such as this, and may we persevere until the very end.

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Press on...