A few weeks ago, I wrote about my experience getting caught in a rip current. I commented that I knew about rip currents and should have recognized that I was in one, but I didn’t. Sometimes when you’re in the storm, you miss a lot of things that are obvious once the storm is over. I’m finding that true even when the storm lasts decades.
I got to know my friend Jack when we worked in the same office at Delta. When one of the things you have in common is a child who has faced a life-threatening illness, there’s an undeniable connection. So, we had that. We talked about our children and understood that we had a similar journey. That didn’t stop us from busting each other’s chops. We could say anything to each other without being offended – that kind of friendship.
I don’t know precisely how Jack got hooked up with them, but he had a connection with the Brain Tumor Foundation for Children. They had a huge motorcycle ride every year, and Jack was more or less in charge of the registration on the day of the ride. He recruited many of us Delta folks to help. For most, it was out of the goodness of their hearts. For me, it was much more – maybe a way to throw a few punches at the disease that had affected my daughter. Jack gave me that.
One time, the organization was moving its offices, and Jack was handling the move. He asked if I wanted to help, and I agreed. We both had to be at work very early, so we were off by noon and had the rest of the day to do the move. We went to KFC for a bite to eat. Jack got a bucket of chicken for us. After a few pieces, I was full. Jack polished off the rest, and it was time to work. If you’ve never met Jack, he is several inches taller than me and, at the time, weighed at least twice as much as I did. We did not look like your typical moving crew. So, we do the move, and it’s getting late, almost dark. We’ve got this one last item to move: a conference room table. It’s maybe 10 feet long and 5 feet wide and weighed a ton. At this point, I’m beat. Jack’s on one end, and I’m on the other. We carry it about a quarter of the way, and I tell Jack I’m going to have to set my end down for a second. He says no problem, steps over to the middle of the table, reaches across it, picks it up over his head, and carries it the rest of the way. So now I’m wondering why he thought he needed my help, but I didn’t ask. There was something else going on.
I’ve got other Jack stories, but I’m trying to get to the point. Our situations have changed over the years and I haven’t seen Jack in years, but we keep in touch from time to time on Facebook.
A friend told me she felt unanchored and untethered when her parents died. That rang true with me when my mother died, and the word in my head was unmoored. It was even more pronounced when Jennifer died. Intellectually, I could accept her death. I know she is better now than she has ever been. I know I will be with her again. But, Jennifer and I were together almost all the time. It just felt like God took her and left. I felt lost, unmoored.
So, we get to the funeral, and I’m just trying to get through it. At the end, Cheryl and I are walking side by side down the aisle to leave. I’m trying not to focus on any faces because I just can’t deal with seeing any sorrow, pity, or anything else. So, we almost make it out of the sanctuary, and there is a traffic jam at the exit. We have to stop at the very last row. I’m thinking I’ll just keep looking straight ahead, but I’m drawn to look to the right. There on the back row, all by himself, is my friend Jack.
It was a God-moment, very much like the moment I have written about before with my Aunt Ruby. God preached a sermon to me in those few seconds: “Unmoored? What are you thinking? Look at this guy – you think he bumped into your life by some strange coincidence? Someone associated with the BTFC, an organization dedicated to fighting the very thing your daughter had? Look at the others I have put in your life and see my work. Go back and read Romans 8:28. Unmoored? What? Are you tripping?”
I don’t know that anyone in that place would have noticed that moment and, even less likely, its significance. I stepped into the row, said, “Hey Jack,” and shook his hand. Sitting here now, I suppose I must have looked very much like Scout Finch in To Kill A Mockingbird when she said, “Hey Boo.” You could say I made it all up in my head, but I was not in a mental state where I could have done that. Maybe that’s why it had to happen then and there, so I knew it wasn’t me. Whatever happened at that moment, I was better.
When you’re dealing with loss or just feeling lost, take a look around. Find the Jacks in your life. I promise you they’re there. But, most importantly, know that God is there too. “You can be sure that I am always with you, to the very end.” Matthew 28:20
When upon life’s billows you are tempest tossed,
When you are discouraged, thinking all is lost,
Count your many blessings, name them one by one,
And it will surprise you what the Lord hath done.
-Johnson Oatman, Jr.