Oh How He Loves Us

Here's something I wrote for my students:

I thought today would be difficult. After some planning and eating a brownie for breakfast I walked to the office to print off some quizzes and handouts. They call Clarence a bear for a reason, so you know. Immediately he gave me a comforting side-hug, the best kind of hug, if there is such a thing. A little later Mrs. Van Zyl warmed her tea and waited by the microwave for those two minutes while I sat at the computer. The microwave is sort of our spot, now that I think about it. But today she stood around just a little longer. 

It took a little time to get back into the mindset of school, to initiate conversation with students, tell them an obnoxious good morning like the teachers always do. It was like all I could do was replay the whole event in my mind, and I still can't fathom it. What on earth was he doing on the side of the highway at one in the morning? Why haven't they found his car? Surely not Josh, the little guy who used to make armpit farting noises with my brother Tyrel. The kid who grew into a young man and not only completed his first year at Dordt but assumed a leadership position on the student symposium. The kid who was majoring in pre-law.

This morning, the students were walking, doing what they do, thinking their own things, moving off to classes, and all-the-while I forgot to say "Good morning!" I was just somewhere else. But something really interesting happened. The students began stopping by and saying, "Hey. Sorry about what happened. Are you sure you're okay?" I stood amazed at the people God uses to calm your mind and heart when it's raging. Thank the Lord for them, that for them life moves on, so you feel okay to keep moving too, whatever the pace. I didn't expect to laugh so hard during Composition today or to firmly regain the teacher voice. 

The daylight hours only last so long, though, and the you're left with your mind, that relentless, insufferable organ. 

Now I sit here, thinking that what's so crazy about all of this is that what happened to Josh--the tragedy of it--is not a one-time deal. In the past two years, and all on my mom's side of the family, my uncle passed away in a farming accident, my cousin Brandon was caught in a lightening storm on the Grand Tetons and died, our grandma passed away peacefully, and now Josh, and I just keep thinking, "What next?" Nothing can shock me now. 

There's no going backward or anything. I can't tell Josh not to go out that evening or tell Brandon that there would come a storm. It would have been pointless to tell Uncle Daryl to steer clear of that hill; he was too stubborn anyway and probably would have laughed in my face. All these things you feel like you want to undo but can't and so you're left with what is now and what is coming. 

In these moments, "Heaven meets earth like an unforseen kiss and my heart turns violently inside of my chest, and I don't have time to maintain these regrets when I think about the way...oh how he loves us."

Dear students, there is a God who loves you. Deeply. 

Please, if you do, tell your parents you love the Lord. At Brandon's funeral, that's what Uncle Bob told us to do, this big farmer holding a microphone, shaking at the knees, and fisting away tears.