He is still good

He is still good

            This entry is one the likes of which I hope to never write again. It has very little to do with the last few weeks of my time abroad and is substantially more personal than I am typically comfortable sharing publicly. With that in mind, a post about my adventures will be up soon, just not today. 

           

On saturday afternoon, I received an email from my mother informing me that one of my best friends from high school had been in an accident and had not survived. I am incredibly grateful to several friends who got ahold of my mom, asking her to contact me for fear of my learning of the accident on Facebook. In the last couple of days the site, in reflection of just how dearly Janee was loved, has turned into a place of memorial. Seeing pictures and reading stories, while difficult has helped me to feel a bit more like I am able to grieve with my friends on the other side of the world. The email I received from my mom is unfortunately not the first of its kind I have read in the past few months and grieving away from home and those I love is no longer new territory. While this doesn’t make it any easier, it is at least something I have dealt with to some extent before. I have seriously debated whether to address the accident or not here on my blog. While others have sincerely and beautifully expressed their love and grief online, I have little confidence in speaking to such things as my emotions, and fear making it about me rather than a tribute to one of the most loving individuals I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. However, I have come to the conclusion that it would be wrong to ignore this part of my time abroad and inappropriate to include it alongside tales of my adventures in Australia and China. Additionally, many from home have reached out, asking how I am and offering support. I cannot explain how much this means to me but I have had a hard time putting into words how I am doing and responding to everyone with as much care as I feel I should. The following is my attempt to rectify the above.

           

I met Janee when I began swimming the summer before the start of junior high. As the only girl my age who had not been swimming with the team since toddler years, to say I was intimidated at the thought of breaking into the very close group of girls in my class would be a great understatement. I shouldn’t have worried. Janee immediately welcomed me, making me feel comfortable and at home. She has a way of talking to you like you are the only person that matters, giving you her undivided attention, even if she has just met you.  Moving into junior high, Janee quickly became one of my best friends both in and out of the water. She introduced me to her friend group at school and  we always managed to get into the same lane at practice in the afternoons. I owe many of my friendships today to Janee and the way she generously shared who and what she knew with me. I was an utter failure at diving so one summer day we spent hours in her backyard, using the rocks beside the pool as blocks as she taught me how not to scare mothers everywhere when starting a race. We coached the toddler swim group after school and then giggled together under the lane line covers on the pool deck between practices and she got me through the horrific awkward hilarity that is junior high.  In high school we ended up swimming the same events which was fine by me because it meant we trained together. She became the person who pushed me the most to give my all and be the best I could in the water. I owe who I am as a swimmer to her and her constant encouragement. We’re both plenty competitive and fought for tenths against one another in our races. Whatever animosity there may have been in a race immediately dissipated as soon as we hit the wall. She was always the first to give me a hug after a race; even if she had swam in it herself. When I broke two minutes in the 200 free for the first time, she was in the same heat. At the end of the race, she cheered louder than anyone from her place three lanes over. When I asked her how she had done, she didn’t know, she’d been too excited to check after seeing my time on the board. Janee genuinely cared more about people, any people, than she did about herself. She loved people and she loved God and both were obvious to anyone who knew her. She didn’t walk places. She lived in a way that necessitated skipping. She had a smile that actually lit up rooms. She was fiercely competitive and loved both the sport and her team, be it swimming or basketball or spike ball or bowling. To this day, I don’t know if I’ve ever met someone with so much life. She lived big and she loved big. If you didn’t know Janee, your loss is greater than mine. She’s one of the best friends you can have.         

          

  I’ve been going through old photos, ones posted on facebook by others and the hundreds saved on my computer. She’s in a significant number of them and memories are abundant. We shared birthdays, went to camp and youth group events, passed time at swim meets, jumped endlessly on her trampoline, played intramural basketball, giggled at the back of the room in anatomy, made pancake breakfasts on the school quad, went to senior sunrise and sunset, had countless sleepovers and movie nights and made a mess on more than one occasion of her kitchen. She teased me because I was too tall and I her because she was too short, and we always joked that she was a perfectly huggable size. She was my bus buddy for meets and we spent a majority of high school lunches eating in her father’s classroom or outside under the giant oak tree. She was my go-to-friend. We had the kind of friendship you take for granted in the best way possible: one where you know it will always be, no matter the time that passes. I only wish now that I had known there was a limit on time. 

            To answer the question of how I am, the most honest answer I can give is to say that I am okay. Being away from home and having limited internet access means it is not in my face. Good or bad, I can pretend its not happening. It also means I’m feeling pretty alone in this and I'm having a difficult time accepting it as a reality. I have heard from a lot from friends that they are happy and comforted to know that Janee is at home with the God she so dearly loved. I however, am not at that place yet. While I can whole heartedly say that I believe without a shred of doubt that my friend is dancing in heaven with a joy even greater than the one she spread on earth, I am selfish and would do anything to keep her here longer.  The knowledge that I will see her again brings a certain amount of peace but does little to alleviate this feeling of being punched repeatedly in the stomach. There is a senselessness and suddenness to this death that I am having a hard time accepting. I am someone who wants logic and order and for puzzle pieces to line up exactly right, and this is not that. I am frustrated and confused and approaching angry. Janee wouldn’t have wanted anger at her death. She wouldn’t have wanted us to yell and scream at God and no matter how much that is something I desperately want to do, I am choosing instead what honors her life and  her deep and obvious sense of love. In her death, Janee is teaching me one last lesson about life, and about faith.

A friend of mine shared a paraphrase of Daniel 3:18 and I haven’t been able to get it out of my head.

“And if not, He is still good.”

I looked it up and it references the words of Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego. Threatened with death for not worshiping the idols of the king, the three proclaimed their faith that God would rescue them. They asserted that even in the case of their demise, they would not denounce their God, they would not worship another. And if not, He is still good. I pray for understanding and sense. I ask for time to reverse and for things to change and for the last few days to restart. I pray for order in the chaos that I cannot even begin to understand. I ask that I not have to say goodbye to my friend. And if not, He is still good. Faith isn’t dependent upon knowing what comes next, it doesn’t rely on my understanding how and why and to what purpose things happen and God’s goodness is not reliant upon these things either. I am still confused. I am still in pain. I am still working through anger. But my God is still good. And I will give praise for that.

If you pray, I ask that you pray for the Chico community. For the Nickersons. For healing and hope and a peace found only in God, for He is still good.