When Jennifer and I left Nashville to go to seminary in St. Louis, I was certain that I would find some ministry opportunity when I was done so that we could move back and continue to raise a family with friends we knew in Nashville, which I presumed to think of as our adopted home town. That never happened, and I was probably naive to have the expectations I did.
I just saw a couple of blog entries about a Nashville friend of ours who died while we were in St. Louis. Andy was sixteen years old when he died. I think he was twelve when we house-sat (and Andy-sat) for his parents. He was an amazing kid.
The thing about leaving a place with friends is that you forget everything is different now. Though you know better, you think that the place in which you used to live still holds all your friends at the same age they were, in the same houses, with the same furniture.
And, unless or until I am reminded from time to time, I automatically assume there is still a sixteen-year-old boy living in Nashville.
Sounds familiar.
Well said.
Mark,
Thanks for your remembrance of Andy – and for saying he was a great kid! Like JM Barrie immortalizing his little brother as Peter Pan, fpr us Andy will remain 16 forever!
And your kids are just little babies, right? (ha ha – last time I saw you E. was a little baby. Can’t believe how much they’ve grown.)
Jennifer
Although we barely knew Andy, we were greatly impacted by his death. I remember the funeral as a mix of grief/sorrow and victory. It was the first time we remember hearing Q&A 1 & 2 of the Heidelberg Catechism.
Mark,
Thanks for your post. It meant a lot that you and Jennifer rushed from St. Louis to be with us. That, based on my very limited language study, is what Paul means when he talks about comfort. Yes, there is still a special, fun-loving 16 year old frozen in time here in Franklin. Blessings.