Tuesdays are the days I’ve chosen to write about lessons in grace the last couple of years. It seems fitting that December 20 would fall on a Tuesday this year. You see, ten years ago today, I was put on a journey of finding God’s grace in all things.
Actually the lesson started years before in my college Physics class. There was this girl with long dark curls, skin like Snow White and ruby red lips. She’d slinked into her front row seat wearing her Chi Omega Sweatshirt. I hated her. She set the curve on every test – A curve that would often leave me and the rest of us barely hanging on with a passable grade.
We spent half a semester – her setting the curves on the test and me wondering why of all classes this beautiful, test-acing genius had to be in MY class. Then, as God would have it, not only did this Hoot Owl have the nerve to ruin my GPA, she showed up on Easter… in my hometown church… in my Sunday School class. I couldn’t get away from this girl. I was forced to finally introduce myself.
Turns out she wasn’t only smart and pretty, she was nice.
The next week, my phone rang . It was her. She invited me to a party to watch the Final Four Basketball games at one of my friend’s houses. She was friends with my friends? How did I not know this girl? And more importantly, why did she invite me to watch Basketball? Basketball?! In my head, I knew this friendship wasn’t going to work. To be friendly and social, I said yes.
That night we traded war stories of our college paths. We talked about music, about clothes, about our faith. She was a tomboy. I was a girly girl. But, That night we discovered we were sisters in Christ. More than that – we had each found a kindred spirit, a friend.
Over the next 6 years, Katherine would teach me more than physics.
She taught me to…
Laugh. And not just laugh but to laugh. out. loud. Not a quiet ladylike laugh. NO, a real honest to goodness laugh. A laugh so loud it makes everyone in the room turn to look at you. A laugh until you think you might pee your pants kind of laugh.
Pray. She was a prayer warrior. In those days before emails and texts, it wasn’t uncommon to get a voice message from her praying for me or to find letters in the mail with verses she thought I needed . She was in communion with the spirit and it showed in her discernment. She always knew the right thing to say.
Say I love you. It’s silly, but the girl loved her bubblegum. One of the only fights we ever had was after a 7 day road trip halfway across the country together and the girl was going through great bubble at an incredible rate. On day 7 retuning home, we were both on edge. The more anxious she got the more she’d chew. The more she’d chew the more my nerves wore raw at that smacking sound. I couldn’t take it, and a few hours from home I lost all composure and yelled, “JUST STOP IT!!” We were silent the rest of the trip. By the time I drove in her driveway, I was done. We were over.
Days passed, she called and acted like nothing happened. I finally said, “You’re not mad at me?” She replied, “Mad? Sisters yell each other like that all the time. We’re ok.” That night as we were getting off the phone, I apologized again and said, “I love you”.
I love you. I don’t know where it came from. It was foreign for those words to come out of my mouth. I had never taken the initiative to say that to anyone – except my parents, much less a friend. In hindsight, I’m so glad I said it. I did love her. She was the closest thing to a sister I had ever known. From then on, we ended our conversations saying, “I love you, dear friend”
There’s a million other things she taught me, but of all of them the most life transforming one is this…
Be bold. Imagine two small town girls take Manhattan. I don’t know how we packed so much life into 2.5 days, but we did. We shopped, dined with the stars (Jerry Seinfield!) at Balthazar, took in a Broadway show of Les Mis, sipped Champagne in Soho, and spent the day getting beautiful at Frederik Fekkai.
Ooo la la. Frederik Fekkai was the highlight our trip. We were whisked into the salon and introduced to our masseuses, followed by our “hair designers” …our FAAAHB-U- LOUS hair designers. Now, remember we were small town Arkies in the big city in the late 90s. Katherine’s hair guru was smitten with her from the moment they met. They were laughing and giggling. From time to time, I could her loud guffaw across the salon. Then, I heard her say something that made me want to crawl under the building. “So, are you a Christian? Do you believe in Jesus Christ?”
Are you kidding me? Here we were in New York City at an upscale salon. I was dying of embarrassment. I’m talking to my guy about proper blow-out, roll brush technique. Meanwhile she has engaged her hair designer in a lively discussion about salvation. I just knew he couldn’t get her out of his chair fast enough.
I was wrong. We left that afternoon with his phone number and invitation to attend an Oscar’s Watch Party at Candace Bushnell’s apartment. He wanted to show off his Arkansas friends. He said there was just something different about us. We were over the moon flattered. We declined the invitation; we had a plane to catch. She didn’t lead him to Christ that day, but I know she boldly planted that seed. She planted those seeds wherever she went.
She was Bold, Passionate. Unashamed. Full of life. That was Katherine.
On December 20, 2001 the phone call came…THE phone call. This young woman, so full of life, was gone. Katherine – the bold, beautiful, passionate genius was gone. I type it and still can’t believe it. She died a little after 7pm of natural causes. She laid down for a nap after feeding her newborn son and woke up dancing in front of the Throne of God. While she danced before the Lord, I was crumpled on the floor. I quit breathing for a really long time. I learned that night, week, month, year what it means to wail, to need the spirit to intercede.
On December 23, 2001, we gathered together to celebrate Katherine’s life. It was a beautiful service and it was a celebration. Her passion, her joy, her love of the LORD was reflected. It was the first time in days, I smiled.
The Pastor mentioned in his eulogy that God gives each of us a particular mission in life. When we are done with that mission, he calls us home. He wondered aloud, “I wonder who or what Katherine’s final mission was?”
If you knew me ten years and met me today, it’s quite likely I’m a completely different person. I’m not sure what her last mission was, but I can tell you I was part of her mission. She changed my life.
It took her passing and deep reflection of our friendship to teach me to laugh more, to not take myself so seriously, to be someone who prays for and encourages others, to be the one to say, “I love you” first, and to live my life and faith boldly, unashamed, and with passion.
Ten years later, I can look back on a tremendous, heart scarring loss and know God has always been and is doing something infinitely great. That is grace.
Yes, God does great things in strange ways. No other time of year is that evident than Christmas. He loves us so very much he sent his very own son to be born in a dirty barn in Bethlehem, to live among people, to die on a cross, and to resurrect from the grave to save us from sin… to bring us to him.
Isn’t that Amazing? Isn’t that grace? That God loves us so much he sent his son to bring us to Him
And even more amazing… sometimes, he sends us a life changing best friend, too.
