death and all of his friends

Sometimes it’s hard to know what you have until you no longer have it. Sometimes though, sometimes, you know you have been entrusted with a gem, a diamond in the rough.
 
My friend Suzanne was one of those rare gems. A week ago Saturday, her body lost the battle with liver cancer. Her soul on the other hand- her soul claimed victory over death in the name of Jesus. A week ago Saturday, Suzanne went home to be with her Daddy.
 
Friend probably isn’t even the right word to describe her. She was more like family really. Tall and beautiful, with bright blue eyes and a smile worthy of a Crest commercial, Suzanne was just one of those people. She warmed every room she entered, like the heat that seeps out of the oven when you open the door. She was high on Jesus, low on self. She was joy. It was not something she turned on or off, it was just her.

                     
 
Suzanne came into my life when I was probably 10 years old, as a youth ministry volunteer to our small church in Michigan. When I first met her I was a little skeptical, not because of anything she did, but because I was young and somewhat self-conscious and wary of accepting anyone before I could figure out what my friends thought of him or her.
 
Nonetheless, Suzanne pursued me. I remember her telling me later that for some reason out of the group of us in the middle-school-ish age range, I was the one she had set her sights on. She said that she knew if she could get in with me the rest would follow. I’m not too sure about that part, but I know God made no mistakes in sending her after me that early.

As the years went on and I got older I fell in with quite a non-Christian crowd. In the early stages of this happening, I remember going to a weekend retreat of sorts, with Suzanne being one of the leaders. I remember crying very hard during one worship set, upset and ashamed with myself for not being able to live out my faith with my friends, but not being able to give them up for fear of being alone (kind of intense for a middle-schooler, I know). I remember feeling someone come up and hug me. It was Suzanne, of course. She sat there and rubbed my back while I cried and incoherently told her my 12-year-old sorrows. I remember her telling me very simply, “It’s okay. Jesus understands. He understands all of it. It’s okay.”
 

Sadly my slow drift away from God continued as I went through high school. I decided I didn’t need God or anyone associated with Him, and my attendance at church and subsequently youth group diminished severely. I’m pretty sure when I could be dragged out of bed on a Sunday morning to go to church I made my displeasure known to any and all by displaying a prickly and surly nature. I remember my mom calling me anti-social because I never wanted to talk to anyone. I was generally wary of other churchgoers, especially adults.
 
Except Suzanne. I would see her and I would snap out of my overt irritation. It was impossible to be grumpy around her. She would always give me a huge hug and ask how my cats were doing or where I thought I wanted to go to college. Part of our routine banter became me razzing her about when she was going to set a date for her wedding and if I would be invited (she was engaged at the time to her future husband Pete).
 
This surly, rebellious teenager was no match for unconditional love. That’s what I saw in Suzanne. She had won me over, plain and simple. She loved me with no strings attached, asked for nothing in return, had no ulterior motives. Whether I could have identified it then or not, the only reason I let her anywhere near me is because I could see Jesus in her. I knew I could sit in front of Suzanne and say, “Not only did I mess up, I did it on purpose. Still love me?” and without hesitation her answer would be yes.
 

 
Saturday I went to her funeral, and it was truly a beautiful ceremony. It was a time to remember Suzanne and all that she was to so many of us. We acknowledged our earthly loss and sadness together, and then celebrated her heavenly welcome home, and looked forward to the day when we will all be reunited.
 
In the meantime, I already miss her.
 
It sucks that I have so much life left to life that I won’t get to have her be a part of. I wish she could be at my wedding. I wish I could ask her for marriage advice someday, or how to deal with teenagers. I wish I could go over to her house anytime I need someone to rub my back and tell me that Jesus understands, and everything is going to be okay.
 
I am not great at dealing with death. The words that have continued coming to me are those of Paul in 2 Corinthians 4:
 

I thank Jesus that I got to encounter him here on this earth through Suzanne. I thank Jesus that earthly death is not the end, but a new beginning. I thank Jesus that through his death Suzanne got to walk in true life.