Sunday, December 10, 2006

Josh


A little over a week ago a very precious boy died. He and this other boy, Colby, were the closest thing to how I think I may love a son of my own. I had the privilege of having this little boy in class for two years. He was in my Evangelism class. He died in a canoe accidcent on a river last Friday. He was 19. I know he's fine - but that doesn't erase the pain. Again, I think of that CS Lewis quote: " The pain now is part of the joy then."


It seems that everyone has spoken of his ever present smile - his laughter, his joy, his big big heart. How true. Yet, his big, big heart had it's share of hurt, too. I remember clearly when he found out that his father had an affair ... and was leaving his mother. He was so terribly hurt.


I remember when he shared the pain of unrequited love with me - a boy who loved so deeply - the object of his love too engrossed in her own world to see the hope and future of his. They were so young - perhaps, in the future...


I also remember Josh drawing pictures on school paper and leaving them on my office door. Or bringing my wildflowers he picked in the field on the way over to visit, his all encompassing hugs. His "I LOVE you Miss Sharp" s, his first forsya into "leading" Praise and Worship in our class -


There are no "good" answers - I do know this: he lived more life in his life than many many people who are three times his age. And THAT is no exaggerration. I have NEVER been one to think of a person who has died and wonder if they can speak to us, etc. As a matter of fact, I have always thought that was a bit "odd and foolish and misguided." However, on more than one occassion recently, as I have been thinking about painful things in my current "life space" and thought of Josh and even found myself thinking, "Josh, what do you think?" And I see his smile and hear him say, "It will all work out, Miss Sharp. Don't worry." Not that he has taken the place of Jesus in my life, but for some reason I have found it easier to identify with him, as of late. I'm sure it sounds off the mark - don't worry, I'm not starting my own cult. I just miss him.