To Mourn with Joy

It seems I only blog when my heart is full...of joy...or of sadness. I think it is out of a certain necessity for me. It is part of how I process what I am feeling, to bring sense or meaning to it. And it's impossible for me to do that unless I put it down in comprehensible words.

He was one of my boys. I called him Greggers or Gregory or Bauer because 'Greg' just didn't seem to be name enough for him. My name is Terry Schmidt and I spent four years as one of Greg’s youth leaders here at First Alliance. My first remembrance of him will always be how Greg used to drive me crazy whispering and giggling with his buddy, Braiden behind me when I was trying to lead bible study. When I would ask him to read a bible verse out loud, Greg’s creative pronunciations were always a mood lightener. After a particularly inventive pronunciation of gentiles (use your imagination or ask me later), we were rolling on the floor with laughter. We didn’t get much studying done that night.  He was never afraid of sounding or looking silly. Case in point, the neon yellow nylon track pants that made numerous appearances over a couple of years of youth events. Other youth leaders and I would chat about whether Greg would ever take anything seriously, but every now and then, he would come up with some little gem and leaders and students would stare gape-mouthed at him with the profundity of it. He knew what was what.

Greg was, however, completely serious about playing. He loved all his games with a passion, and played them as such, giving 100% whether it was hockey or some crazy camp game. Dodgeball! Man, you did not want to get in the way of a ball that was thrown by Greg. He rarely lost.

Greg attended Camp Chamisall during his school years. I think he loved camp mostly because he was a people person, so social, and just enjoyed being with a group or in the middle of a crowd. He was my camp date once...he bobbed for an apple in freezing water and then pulled the tiny piece of paper out of it with my name on it. He yelled my name like it was the best news in the world, never mind he was likely expecting to escort some sweet young thing to the camp banquet but instead drew the old lady card. He was kind. 

He volunteered with children in Discoveryland from the time he was a teenager and had a ball with them. They loved him. The only way we could tell him apart from the kids was his size.

I saw Greg nearly every week for four years during his high school youth days and remember also banquets, retreats and youth events and his smiling face was always there. He rarely smiled with his mouth closed. It was always this open-mouthed grin of wonder. He carried joy on his face all the time. All. The. Time. There was adoration in him for everyone and everything. He was delighted and captivated by life. He had fun and made no apologies for it.

After graduation I didn't see him often, but I could see on Facebook and heard from others that he was...enjoying himself. I prayed for him whenever his name popped up. Right around graduation Greg started dating Sarah...and then I was praying for her, too! But I knew if anyone could love Greg the way he needed someone to, it would be my strong, sweet Sarah. You done good, honey.

Greg became a junior high youth leader a couple of years ago, under gentle encouragement (or constant pestering) from Sarah, and I had the privilege of watching him feed into the lives of other young men in his unassuming way, just accepting them for who they were. As leaders we would take time together to encourage one another, and I had an opportunity to tell him how proud I was of him and how far he'd come and how he was allowing God to use him in such a positive way. I'm glad I did.

Greg had an enlarged heart...not just the physical one, but the spirit of his inner heart...a heart enlarged with generosity, humility, kindness, love and joy, joy, joy. I think maybe it just grew too big for this world, or maybe his physical heart would eventually debilitate his joy, so Jesus took him home.

Maybe Greggers didn't take life as seriously as those around him wanted him to, but maybe, he had it right all along and we should take more enjoyment out of life and worry less. I can see him in heaven, with that open-mouth smile of joy wrapped around his face, looking around, exclaiming, "Awesome!" He’s gonna fit right into his new home. And one day he’ll be the welcoming committee for us.

But for now we are left behind to mourn him, though beneath our grief is that underlying joy.

Most of us will miss him terribly, but our lives will go on with little interruption, while those whose lives were intertwined with him intimately will have deeper scars. For you all, there will be many life celebrations and holidays where you will feel his absence, but it will be the still quiet moments that will surprise you…when you see a parent embrace their child, a young couple holding hands, share laughter with your siblings and realize a laugh is absent…and a rolling wave will take your breath away.

I pray in those moments you might remember this verse and perhaps imagine Greg saying it to you.

John 16:22

So you have sorrow now, but I will see you again; then you will rejoice, and no one can rob you of that joy. 

No one can rob you of that joy. No one. That joy.

For those of you who wonder how we could mourn with joy or at our certainty that we'll see Greg again, I would ask you if you are certain of where you are going when you die. Are you certain of your eternal destination? I do, I am...I am certain. Greg was certain. And it is my most fervent hope that you would be too. Ponder that question, investigate, ask questions, voice your doubts and your anger, and look for a choice that brings you certainty. You'll find it.