One of my dearest friends

       I know I said I hoped to cover a day in our life here in Düsseldorf in the next blog, but something has been consuming my thought life since we have arrived here.  And in the whirlwind of unpacking, getting organized, getting clean (nice to have a washer/dryer finally!), getting settled (still not finished with all of that, for sure), I have had little time to reflect on how I feel about it. 
        Most of you know about my dear sweet best friend from my Clemson days, Amy.  She passed away literally as I was on the plane heading over here.  (She had ALS, better known as Lou Gehrig's disease.)  So I was unable to mourn with her friends and family - really with anyone besides Stuart.  I have been so busy keeping a positive attitude for the kids, focusing on the good, etc., that any sorrow I feel I immediately squash.  I just have not allowed myself to really move through the grief.  So this blog post is really a way I have of acknowledging that grief, and recognizing that there has not been an hour since I have been here that I have not thought of her.  
         Stuart was the one who first hung out with her.  He knew we would hit it off, and hit it off we did.  Our first time hanging out together was actually going with Perry Noble to a home for pregnant teens.  I led the worship music, she sang with me, Perry spoke, and then we all hung out with the girls for a bit.  On the drive home, a song came on the radio - and she just started singing at the top of her lungs.  And I joined in - and that was it.  Have you ever had one of those moments when you just know, with every fiber in your being, you are going to really connect with this person?  Now, I am all about the work of friendship, too.  And to this day, some of my most valuable friendships are with women who I really had to work to get to know.  But it was never like that with Amy - there wasn't work.  We were just able to BE with each other.  

Here we are on a birthday trip to New York City, March 2009.

         We roomed together the next year at Clemson, we were in each other's weddings, we spent time at games together with our husbands, and we tried, every year, to get together on our birthdays (hers was March 31st, mine is April 2nd).  One year, on our birthday trip (which inevitably was a shopping excursion), she shared with me a concern about her hand and its function.  Sometimes a little knowledge is a scary thing, and my Masters in Rehabilitation gave me enough info to know that what she was showing me was serious.  At that time, I was already thinking something like ALS, but was praying with all fervor that it was not.  We were only 33 that year - much too young to be thinking about this.  But apparently not, and sickness and disease are still ravaging this world being redeemed, and we are not immune just because we hold to the Truth.
           Still, the beautiful way the Lord redeemed all of this was to give Amy a testimony, a message, a preaching and divining spiritual gift that she shared with countless others during this time.  She did not crawl under a rock, she did not ever give up the fight or the faith, although she most certainly embraced the arms of our Savior.  She rested in the Truth, and her unwavering knowledge that He was healing her, redeeming her, mind, spirit, soul, body at all moments, at all times.  And even now, I know He is about that work.

Clemson vs. Florida State, Fall 2009 (GREAT GAME!)

        So many things have happened since I have been here that I would love to call her about, to share with her.  But I cannot reach her here, in this earthly realm.  And that just makes me sad.  Really, really sad.  I miss her with an ache that is palpable.  It is time I acknowledge that, acknowledge that I will always miss her.  In time, I will learn to live around the hole that her absence creates.  But right now, I just truly need to grieve.  To cry a cathartic river of tears that will leave my face messy, but my heart unburdened.  She really was a special lady, a dear friend, and I am sorry I didn't get to say a real goodbye.   So I suppose this is the best way I know of saying it now.  I love you so much, Amy.  And I will miss you always.