My Friend Died

My friend and pastor died yesterday.  My sister called and said Jane had been failing in the last few days and died during the night.  I really didn't want her to die before I could get back home to say goodbye.  You see, I left without saying goodbye.  I didn't know that she was so sick when I left and I was a bit confused about what was happening with her.  I knew she had complicated health issues, but never thought she was going to die from them. 

I was listening to others who were a bit disgruntled because she wasn't more accessible to us at the church.  Yet, when I visited with her I knew she was really suffering and couldn't do anything more. Now I miss knowing that she is there and telling her how much her firendship meant to me.

She was more than my pastor.  She was what fills the definition of a friend. She listened to my anguishing decisions I needed to make when I was in a dilemma about one of my kids. She shared in my enthusiasm  when I came in with the crazy schemes I had cooked up. She was never judgemental and never gave me a look to say I may be off my rocker to try my latest project.

I would share my theological opinions that were probably somewhat off center with the majority of views.  But, like my dad, she never made me feel I was wrong.  She just listenedand let me figure things out for myself.  We shared our concerns for and frustrations with the church.  We shared our political views which we knew meshed with our Christian views for responsible living.  We saw eye to eye on many things and it felt freeing to be able to express these views openly and without judgement.

Jane had a rough yet interesting life that led her to her deep faith in God.  Her faith made mine stronger.  Especially in how she died. She really knew what the next chapter of her life would be.