He's Gone - The Loss of a Hero

I was in the 7th grade when my hero passed away.  I remember sitting in my history class that year, 2001, and watching the Twin Towers collapse before my very eyes.  I remember thinking how horrific it must've been to be a part of that, but even more so, how heart-wrenching it would be to lose a loved one so suddenly.  With no warning or preparation.  Just a simple one minute they're there, and the next, they're gone forever.

Little did I know, that heart-wrenching feeling was one I'd come to know all too soon.  On September 30, 2001, my hero breathed his last breath.  There was no warning and no preparation.  Frenchy (the only name by which I ever knew my uncle Jean-Marc Plante) was out playing street hockey with his friends, and he had a heart attack.  He was 30 years old.  Much too young to die.  Much too young to be gone from this earth.

I remember the moment I heard the news.  My grandma told me two simple words: "He's gone."  At first those two words didn't make sense to me.  Gone?  Where did he go?  Did he get to leave the hospital?  Then, it hit me.  Those two simple words were not so simple.  They were the two of the most loaded words I would ever hear in my life.  And with those words, my whole world, everything I'd ever known, collapsed.  In my 7th grade mind, I feared that I, too, might be dying of a heart attack.  I remember trying to swallow back the knots that kept forming in my throat and trying not to cry because I wanted to be strong for everyone else.

Frenchy was more than an uncle to me.  He was my friend.  My big brother.  My favorite person to hang out with.  He was always taking me somewhere fun - rollerblading around the neighborhood, ice skating, out to lunch, the list goes on.  Frenchy had even promised me that he would take me rollerblading on Halloween because then we could get double the candy.  Though we never got to do that, I know that Frenchy's impact on my life did not stop at his death.

Frenchy's death set off a chain reaction in my life that ultimately led me into becoming the person I am today.  When Frenchy died, two things happened.  One, I realized that Frenchy was the kind of person I wanted to be - someone who walked about this life always making others smile and always making others feel loved.  Two, I realized that writing was more than a hobby for me.  Writing was something that was as crucial to my life as breathing, and whatever it was about writing that was so important to me, I would make it my life's ambition to find and tell that story.

At age 12, I set out to write my first book.  I called it Seventeen in honor of my uncle's hockey number.  In the book, I planned to tell my life's story (more so for my ability to overcome tragedies and hardships than to actually share my story with others).  I worked on the book for years.  Each year, I added a new chapter with new life events - the good ones, the bad ones, the ugly ones.  By college, I had reached seventeen chapters, and I'd found myself at a stopping point.

My best friend in college, Caroline, stumbled across my writing one day.  We were probably supposed to be doing homework, but you know how college kids are, as unproductive in terms of homework as they come.  But, Caroline read my story about Frenchy, and she said this to me: "If I die, will you write something about me?"  I didn't realize it at the time, but those words would become as loaded as the two words: "He's gone."

For today, though, with it being the 14th anniversary of his death, my focus is on Frenchy so I will stop my story here - the place where my story all began.

Jesus Calms the Storm

I found all of my old blog entries that I thought I had lost so I will be posting them a few at a time to add a little flavor and some past experiences to this blog.  The following story is true.

He got up, rebuked the wind and said to the waves, "Quiet! Be still!" Then the wind died down and it was completely calm. Mark 4:39-40

Amid the stories of tragedy and despair regarding the tornadoes of April 27, 2011, I would like to share a different kind of story - a story, well, nothing short of a miracle. This is a story of one who lost nothing and gained everything.

My anatomy lab final was scheduled to fall right in the midst of the Tuscaloosa tornado. I checked my email at least 20 times that afternoon, hoping for some form of notification about lab. Honestly, I had my fingers crossed that lab wouldn't be cancelled. Nerdy, I know. But I knew the lab material (or memorized it), and I didn't want to re-study everything.

A notification didn't come, not before I had to leave for lab anyways. My parking permit requires me to park in the farthest possible lot from campus. Since the weather was threatening, my parents told me to ignore the restrictions on parking and park as close to my class as possible. Did I listen? No. Looking back, I'm not sure if my disobedience was more to save my parents the expense of a parking ticket or if I simply didn't believe a tornado would really come.

By the time I made it to the bus stop (a parking lot's distance from my car), I began to regret my disobedience. The sky was a shade of gray I'd never seen, and the wind was strong enough to knock me over. I debated walking back to my car, but the bus arrived. The bus dropped me off right in front of the lab building. I made my trek to the second floor, secretly glad I hadn't added a parking ticket to my parents bills.

The lab TA arrived early, allowing those of us in the hallway to begin the test. I hadn't answered many questions when the building's alarms sounded. All students in the building were required to sit against the wall on the first floor. Students began complaining and crying. A worker brought out a radio, shouted that a death had been accounted for, and the crying grew worse.

After a while, students were given the choice to leave. There was an hour break in the tornadoes. A girl from my lab, who I'd never spoken to until that day, asked if I could give her a ride to her apartment. I nervously agreed. We walked at a near sprint, backpacks beating us in the spine with every step. The time was ticking.

Somehow, a group of people in a car recognized the girl from my lab. They offered us a ride to my car. I felt relieved, knowing we'd shaved off several minutes. We flung our belongings into my car and raced in the direction of her apartment (the opposite direction as mine). By this point, I'd determined that I wasn't going to make it home before the next tornado hit, but if I could get the girl from lab home, that would have to be good enough.

When we neared her apartments, she offered to walk a little to give me a little extra time. I set off toward my apartment, praying twenty minutes was ample time to get me home. If I'm being honest, I was more worried about my three-year-old West Highland Terrier than myself. If the next tornado was to hit my apartment, I wanted to be there with him.

I took a different route to my apartment than usual. The routes I knew were blocked with fallen trees. At a church I'd never seen in my life, I was told to get out of my car and walk. Shakily, I pulled the key out of the ignition and grabbed my phone. So many people were texting me that my inbox was overflowing. My battery was blinking. I looked up from my phone to something I hadn't noticed at first - complete and total destruction. I recognized nothing. I recognized no one. Climbing over rubble, fallen power lines, and tree branches, I heard a man shout, "Fifteen minutes until the next one hits. Find shelter immediately."

To my left, an elderly couple was bawling, arm-in-arm. I'll never forget the look on their faces. A herd of people rushed by me, making their way to the church. Their homes were gone. Their possessions lost.

"Jesus calms the stom. Jesus calms the storm. Jesus calms the storm." That was all I could think - all I could remember. I'd read that verse the previous night. I knew it was true, but like the disciples, I was still afraid - so afraid. It didn't seem possible for me to survive the situation. The next tornado was due in less than ten minutes, following the same path, and all around me was rubble. I sent out a few texts, hoping the people in my life would realize just how much they meant to me. I didn't want to miss the opportunity to say goodbye. Before the last of the messages could send, my phone went black.

Just then, I looked up and saw four college students. They told me to join them. Their house was down the road, and it was one of few that remained standing. I didn't know the four, but when one of the girls told me her name was Caroline (the name of my best friend who was killed in a car accident two years ago), I knew it was safe to follow. I knew God had provided me with a way. I entered their house, and Jesus did exactly what he promised he could do. He calmed the storm. The next round of tornadoes never came. I sat in the company of complete strangers completely awed by the power of my God.

That night, around midnight, I made it back to my apartment. It was a miracle I made it home alive. Not only was there the danger of the tornado looming over me, but also the danger of being a girl alone on the streets at night. God was watching over me. I came out of the tornado unscratched, but changed. I don't follow some ordinary God. I follow the God who heals the blind, who moves mountains and who calms the storm.

Three times in my life I have prayed that God would break my heart for what breaks His. Three times He has answered my prayer. In every broken heart, He has drawn me closer to Him. Through the heart breaks, I have gained an intimate relationship with Him. If it takes brokenness, to bring me in line with His will then it is brokenness I must take.

I lost nothing in the tornado but selfishness and pride. What did I gain? I got a glimpse into God's mighty power. I learned what it means for His people to come together in love and spirit. I learned what it means for Him to be the only constant in this everchanging life.

My heart goes out to those who lost their homes and loved ones. I pray that everyone affected by the tornadoes sees the power of God in the circumstances, never giving up hope for all things truly do work for the good of those who love Him.

For My Students

I've found that the longer I teach, the more I love my students.  Don't get me wrong.  I don't mean by that statement that I love my current students more than I love my former students.  I also don't mean by that statement that I love my actual students more than the students who have talked to me so often that they may as well have been my students.  What I mean is that the longer I am around students, the more special the sum total of all my students becomes to me.  The longer I am around students, the bigger my heart grows.

Let me be more specific.  Over the past two years, I have been blessed to come across the most extraordinary people on the planet earth.  I realize that is a bold statement, but I know it's true.  I have met students with burdens much too large for their age and stature.  I have met students with hearts twice the size of their whole bodies.  I have met students who have changed my life.

This entry is for my students.  The ones who think they have it all together.  The ones who know they don't.  The ones who refuse to ask for help in the middle of their troubles.  The ones who are begging to be heard.  The ones who want nothing more than a shoulder to lean on.  The ones who want to be that shoulder to lean on.  The ones with ambitions greater than make sense.  The ones who haven't yet made sense of their ambitions.  The loud ones.  The quiet ones.  The goofy ones.  The serious ones.  The happy ones.  The sad ones.  The hopeful ones.  The hopeless ones.  

Here's what I have to say to all of you (current, former, future students): You are important.  You are special.  You have a place in this world whether the world wants you to believe that or not.  You don't have to be any skinnier, bigger, funnier, cooler, smarter, older, taller, shorter.  You're you, and that's enough.  You're enough.  You have the power to change lives, and I can say that with confidence because you have changed mine.  If you've walked through the doors of my classroom, I am talking to you.  Yes, you.  The one who believes me right now and the one who doesn't.  Because here's the thing.  I believe in you.  With all of my heart, I believe in you. 

Questioning My Faith

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about what it means to really have faith in God.  I mean, yeah sure, I go about my day claiming that I believe in God, but do I actually put my full trust in Him?  Would I really follow Him anywhere, even if it didn't make sense to me (or anyone else for that matter)?  Or, does my faith really rest in me?  Is my whole life dictated by what I can and cannot do, completely void of my Father's power working in me?

As much as I hate to admit it, I think too often my faith does rest in me.  I'll do what God wants me to do so long as it's simple or easy - maybe even if it's challenging but only if it fits right in with my tiny little bit of human understanding.  Then, once I've done whatever it is that God has called me to do, I seem to only want to manipulate the circumstances to get what I want out of it as quickly and easily as possible when I know good and well that God's timing is exponentially greater than my own.  Besides, all that manipulating and all that self-absorption is exhausting.  Especially when my source of strength comes from the Lord, not me.

So, I've set out to stop trusting in me and to start walking in faith.  Real faith.  I'm chasing after God, and He is leading me into places I never thought I'd go.  More and more, I'm starting to see that my life is a series of orchestrations - orchestrations straight from God.  Many would say that they're mere coincidences, but I believe otherwise.  God is too great, too powerful, too sovereign for mere coincidences.  The more I let go of my life and stop placing my faith in me, the more I see these orchestrations taking place, and the more I see the dots of my life aligning into this breathtaking thing called life abundant.  When my faith shifts from me to Him, I don't have to be so OCD about life because I know the details are all taken care of.  No matter how many millions and billions of people are in this world, I know that my God doesn't forget a single detail of my life.  And here I've been, all this time, putting my faith in me - the one who can hardly even remember what she had for breakfast this morning.  Crazy, huh?

I know one thing for sure: Life's an adventure when you decide to go all in with God.  It's not always easy to jump into the unknown with both feet, but it's a lot more exciting to let God carry you once you've made the jump than to keep both feet firmly planted to the ground.  That adventurous life with God - the one in which my faith resides wholly in Him - that's the life I'm after.  I want to be able to say, "YES!" to every single thing that God asks of me, never thinking twice about whether or not I am capable of it.  Never thinking twice about whether or not I am equipped for it.  You see, God is so much greater than me, and I don't have to rely on my own capabilities or my own equipping.  All I have to do is say, "YES!" to God and know that in Him, all things are possible.