REMEMBERING JON...

I think of him often. I usually don't know what brings him to mind, but he left an impact on my life. Escpecially considering I knew him for about 6 weeks - over 20 years ago.

I attended college at a small Christian school in Arkansas. It was an 8 hour drive from my hometown. Basically, I left home after high school and never looked back.
It was one of the smartest things I ever did.

The summer after my freshman year, I decided to stay down there and take summer classes.
It was in English 201 that I met Jon. He sat in front of me and he was a Bible major. I was actually still very shy in those days, but after he introduced himself to me, a very easy friendship developed. We only saw each other in class but we had something important in common. We were both engaged. I had just become engaged and he was weeks away from getting married. Her name was Kimberly. So we spent time before and after class sitting at our desks comparing wedding notes. That is how I remember him; turned sideways in his desk with one arm crooked over the back of his chair, leaning toward me while we talked.

Strange, I never met Kimberly and I don't think he every met The Don.

After that summer session, I didn't see Jon again. At least not in the way I would want to.

One evening I was watching TV with The Don at his apartment and we saw a story about a young man who had drowned in the local river. He had been underwater and apparently become tangled in debris at the river bottom. It was a sad story, but I had basically forgotten about it by the next morning.

Until I heard that it was Jon. THAT Jon. The Jon that I had spent every morning laughing and talking with during first summer session.

Jon. Who had been married just two weeks before he died.

I went to his funeral and The Don went with me. I remember wearing my church clothes to class that morning so that I could leave early and go straight to the church. I remember I had on a navy skirt and short sleeve pink blouse and navy pumps. I remember telling my music appreciation professor that I'd be leaving for this funeral. I remember walking out the door during class and hearing my professor quietly say "thanks for going." That was actually the last time I saw Jon. At his funeral.

And I will never forget seeing Kimberly at that funeral. She walked down the center aisle literally being held up on each side by two of our professors, each of whom was an elder at the church she and Jon attended. I was horrified. I was sad for her. I was angry for her. I was sad for Jon and couldn't stop thinking of the fear he must have felt in his last moments of life. I couldn't stop thinking of how ecstatic he had been at the anticipation of his marriage to Kimberly. Only for it to last two weeks. Two weeks. Fourteen days. Their life together was fourteen days long.

I had taken classes under each of those professors. Dr. White taught English 101. Dr. Tate taught Sociology, so I had lots of classes with him in the my four years there. I saw a side of those men that day that shaped my view of them. Regardless of what I had felt for them as instructors, I learned that they were gentle souls. I learned that, despite their years of learning and seemingly unending knowledge of scripture, they were, quite simply, humble. They were servants.

I will never forget Dr. Tate's words as he spoke at the funeral. He told us that God doesn't go around making bad things happen. Yes He can DO anything. And He can PREVENT anything. But sometimes he chooses not to.

And here was his explanation to the "why" of it all. This man who had spent years on the mission field in Kenya and then years teaching young people at a Chrisitian university. This great Bible scholar said:

"I don't know."

I think his words that day served to hold Kimberly up in her walk of grief, just as his arms had held her up in her walk down that church aisle.

I think those words - "I don't know" - are liberating. They allow us to stop wasting energy trying to answer questions that may never be answered. They allow us to use our energy to focus on God's healing power.
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When The Smart One was about 8 he came home wet and muddy from shoulder to shoe. The creek near our house was up and running fast due to a recent rain. He and his friends had played in the creek. It was only knee deep to him but I panicked. Through tears, and with a quivering voice, I told The Smart One about Jon and how he had died in a river. And I pleaded with The Smart One to never, NEVER go into a body of water like that again unless there is an adult to give permission and watch him. See? Jon's life and death are there to shape my life.

And now I still wonder about Kimberly. I think of her often. Did she remarry? Does she have children? Is she happy? Does she have somebody walking beside her through this life? Somebody to hold her up?

Soon after Jon's funeral, the minister at our church (a different church than Jon's, although both Church of Christ - there were a gazillion down there) mentioned a young woman who had become a widow after two weeks of marriage. He said he had asked the question earlier "What can be worse than becoming a widow after two weeks of marriage?" And an older lady had responded with "Becoming a widow after 35 years of marriage."

That's quite a debate, but I don't know.

I think it is always too early to be a widow.