Remembering Mandy

Two years ago today, my sometime roommate and budding friend Amanda Annis was killed in a bike/car accident by a reckless driver. I miss her, but equally, I regret that I didn't get the chance to fully know her.

The grieving process is strange. It acts differently in every situation, in every person experiencing that situation, and even on every day of each person's experience. In this case, I wasn't able to fully feel the impact of missing Mandy until nearly a year had gone by. It just seemed so surreal. I had all the usual reactions: waiting for her to walk in the door, to hear her laugh, to smell the bread she used to bake. It took a good 6 months before it fully dawned on me that Mandy was gone.

I didn't get to know Mandy the way so many people in her life did. I regret that. But I cherish what I did know of her. Mandy was, more than almost anyone I've known, fully alive. Never hesitating to share her heart, her thoughts, her frustrations. Not holding back from telling you what you needed to hear. Never afraid to try something new (the science experiments that took place in our kitchen were...adventurous, to say the least). She left it all on the field. And more than anything, as I've come to terms with her death, I've been grateful for the abundance she brought to my life, even for a little while. I don't want to be maudlin, just to celebrate the 24 years of "life more abundantly" that Mandy lived.
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Navel-Gazing

Trust as a concept is something I can discuss pretty freely. I'd consider myself a fairly trusting person, having grown up where, when and how I did. I haven't had lots of reasons not to trust people. Generally, I'd even say that I trust someone until they give me reason not to. Sure, I've been hurt. I've had my trust broken. I've broken others' trust. It's a reality of human existence that we will let each other down. I've come to terms with that, on most levels, and learned how to handle it. I'm not quite as quick to trust as I was; I'm more likely to ask questions and hold back a bit until I know a person or situation a little.

However.

When it comes to the concept and function of trusting God, who is by His character more trustworthy than any human I'll ever meet, I seem to function on the concept of not trusting until I'm given a reason to. Here's what brought this home to me, again.

The last few months have been ones of new experience. Of risk. Of attempting a few things that I didn't already know would succeed. Of allowing new people and experiences into my life in a way that I haven't for quite a few years. I got a significant promotion. I trained for and ran a 10-mile race. I reconnected with a few old friends and began to make some new ones. And for obvious reasons, this relational piece has been the most significant.

What it caused me to realize is that I "trust" easily because I don't take many risks. Therefore, I don't have to rely on God for much. I can handle my life, the way I've set it up, pretty much on my own.

As I've begun to risk with the new friendships in my life, I'm recognizing the impact of this. I don't trust God to be what I need. I don't trust Him to supply my need for intimacy, for relationship, for connection, for that unerring sense that someone will be there for you, no matter what. I don't have any real idea how one experiences that with God. I'm not even sure that's the point of our relationship with Him. Instead, I go looking for humans to provide that, to be that for me. And when I do, by definition, get let down, it's convenient to blame God.

When this happens, I get scared. I get I pull an Elijah and hide in the wilderness. I'm angry at Him because He hasn't provided what I think I need. And I really struggle to believe that He has my best in mind. That I matter to Him. That He wants good things for me. And perhaps the hardest thing: that His best for me may not align with what I see as best. In short, my world starts to revolve around my navel. (Nice contortionist picture, isn't it?)

There are no guarantees in this that I will ever "feel better", or differently. That it will get easier to trust God. That in doing so, I will ever achieve or receive the things that I hunger for. There aren't even any guarantees that my trust will deepen. But I know that what I'm doing now isn't working. And I don't plan to live my life by the definition of insanity (doing the same thing and expecting a different result). So I again attempt to come out of hiding. To take the next risk. To recognize that my human perspective is painfully limited. And to attempt to trust that it does, actually, matter to Him how I respond, and live, and choose.

I don't know that these attempts will change anything. But I do know that He takes our most pitiful attempts to glorify Him and uses them. I was challenged in a huge way by this post on a friend's blog. His experience right now dwarfs anything I might struggle with, and it definitely took my head out of my navel. So for now, I'll hold on to that. And try to trust that it will be enough.

Why am I surprised?

In the last few weeks, some pretty amazing things have happened in my life, and in the lives of my friends. One had a WWIII-grade conflict resolve into amazing harmony, inside a painful situation. Another had their 5 year old son come through a difficult surgery with flying colors. A third had her developmentally-delayed daughter show some amazing developmental promise. In my world, I'm finding the strength and vision to change some things about my life that have been needing attention for years. I'm seeing results I never thought I would see, not the least of which is that I ran farther than I've ever run in my life a few days ago. All of this is incredible, and I find myself surprised by these things.

And in terms of amazing experiences, something I got to be part of this weekend capped it. Friday evening, I picked up my 9 year old niece for Good Friday service. She doesn't normally sit through a full service, ever, and asked a few times how long it would be. But she did an admirable job of sitting still, and (I think) actually paying attention. The pastor who was preaching that night called all the kids up front to sit around a huge wooden cross lying on the floor, and proceeded to explain Jesus' death and resurrection in some powerfully simple language.

Her mom had given her the option of taking communion or not, because Mom wouldn't be there to go with her. When it was time, I asked my niece if she wanted to go, and if she knew why we were doing this; I wanted to know what her understanding was of the whole rather overwhelming concept. And she took my hand, and looked straight at me, saying "because Jesus did what we can't do for ourselves. He died for us." And then, still holding my hand, led the way to the table. And I just lost it. (Thankfully, I managed to be discreet. She didn't notice -- I think it might have freaked her out a little if she had.) Somehow, there was something so powerful, so simple, and so real about hearing it in those terms, after years of hearing adults try to say it originally or analyze it or otherwise unintentionally dilute the concept. I was surprised by how much it moved me.

I find myself wondering why I'm so surprised when God shows up. When He does powerful, often miraculous things that only He can do. (I'm hesitant to use the word miraculous; it's so often used flippantly or even callously. But I don't know how else to describe some of these things.) He is very clear that He is involved in our lives - that we matter to Him, that He is present and working and more aware than we are of all that is at work within us and around us.

So why am I surprised? The awe and wonder, the reminder of His character and His love for me is never a bad thing. But shouldn't I somehow expect that He will move in big ways? Shouldn't I be looking for evidence of Him in the way things play out?

I don't know. Should is a dangerous word. It can lead to some pretty black & white thinking. All I know is I was surprised, and I'm hoping I can keep growing this relationship to the point where I am awed, and thankful, but maybe not surprised when God shows up. And does exactly as He's promised - to will and to act according to His good purpose, according to the power that is at work within us.