Talking About Life and Death

     by Sally Matheny

Talking About Life and Death

     We were seventeen years old and looking forward to graduation when it happened.

     Our friendship began only a year and a half earlier. Jan's family had recently moved to North Carolina from Ohio. The school year had already begun. She was the new kid without friends. And she had cancer.

     Our Junior Civinettes club went to her house to welcome her to the neighborhood and introduce ourselves as her new friends. We were nervous about going because we had never met anyone our age with cancer. I knew my boyfriend’s mother had survived Hodgkin’s.  That’s what Jan had so I figured she'd be a survivor, too.

     Jan and I became good friends. We hung out at school and visited each other’s homes. We never talked about cancer or life or death. We didn’t talk about it when her sandy blonde hair began to fall out. She only asked if I’d help her brush off the loose hairs from her sweater.  I did and assured her she looked fine.

     We didn’t talk about life and death when she came to school one day wearing a wig and people began to whisper. And stare. I just walked alongside her.  

     We didn’t talk about life and death when she grew weaker. She only asked if I’d help carry her books.  I did, and when I couldn’t, I enlisted others to help.  Jan had many friends. She always smiled and made conversation easy for those who dared to come close to her. A teen with cancer is a difficult thing to understand. I tried not to think about it. Jan was fun to be with and I knew she would get well.

A teen with cancer is a difficult thing to understand.

     So, we didn't talk about life and death. Not when we had to stop and let her rest a lot when we played tennis, not when she missed school, not when I drove her to chemotherapy, not when she had to have a hysterectomy.

     I thought life and death were the things people talked about when they got old.

     Except Jan didn't grow old.

     She died.

     Then, I panicked. Because Jan and I had not talked about the deeper truths of life. As nice as she was, I didn’t know if my dear friend believed in Jesus Christ. And then, it was too late.

     Sure, I had considered talking to Jan before. But, I was afraid if I talked about such things, she would think I assumed she was going to die. We were a few short months away from graduation and Jan was as excited about it as I was. Despite her illness, she had worked hard and was slated to graduate with honors. She didn't talk about future plans for college, or work, and I didn't ask about them, or where she'd spend her eternity.

     My heart grieved the loss of my friend and ached because I had failed her. The burden became too great. Before the funeral, I talked to Jan’s mom. She assured me Jan was a Christian.

     Relief came, but not peace. I had failed my friend. I could have been more encouraging to her during her difficult journey. We could have talked about the hope we shared in Jesus Christ. Why had I not prayed with her instead of just for her? 

     I was given a bittersweet gift my senior year in high school—a glimpse of how quickly things pass— opportunities, friends, life. No one is guaranteed tomorrow. No one.

Life is fleeting.

     Granted I was just seventeen. Perhaps I was too hard on myself. But I sure wish I'd been braver and talked about important, life-changing things.

     It's not always easy, but it's vital we talk about the reality of death and the hope of eternal life.

Please share ways you've initiated a conversation with someone about their eternity.

What are some ways we can encourage our teens to courageously make the most of every opportunity?

         

Friends Stick By You When You Run Into Hot Water, or Out of It

by Sally Matheny

Friends Stick By You When You're In or Out of Hot Water

Occasionally, I underestimate the amount of help I'll need for a project, and later find myself struggling. 

When our first daughter got married, I thought it wouldn’t take long to clean a reception venue designated for 155 people, especially if friends chipped in on the effort.

My assumption was wrong on two accounts. I assumed people would stay and help with the clean up. Our friends assumed we had a clean-up team in place, and since they weren’t asked to stay, they did not. It was my fault. 

Plus, I should have realized if I find a home for five difficult to clean, then a space for 155 would be challenging! Nonetheless, God was merciful and we completed the job with a few family members.

But, when our second daughter began planning her wedding reception, I knew we had to do things a bit differently. My aches and pains had increased greatly in the three years since the last wedding. I’d need more assistance on all fronts.

Three relatives and a friend were coaxed into helping decorate for the reception while another friend and I worked on floral centerpieces and bouquets. Two more families helped with the baking. My wonderful mother took charge of pressing all the table linens. Thankful for my dear friends and family, I thought I had all the reception bases covered. Right down to the servers and a clean-up crew.

Three servers were designated for the buffet and two other people were in charge of clearing dirty dishes from the tables. Two more delegates were to run the rented china and glassware through the commercial dishwasher. Impressed with my planning, I imagined a beautiful, snag-free reception.

Eh. Even the best-laid tables can go awry.