Bethany

Dear Bethany,

Last Monday when I walked up to the academic building, my heart broke when I saw our Canadian flag flying at half-mast. I knew we were flying it for you, that Redeemer was mourning the loss of your light on our little campus.

It was just two weeks ago that we lost you, that the email came to our inboxes informing us of your accident, your surgery, your medically induced coma, and finally, of your passing. Today, Redeemer held a celebration of your life that was open to the Redeemer community and your family. As memories of you were shared, singing of your favourite worship songs, and reading of your favourite verses from the Bible, I'm ashamed to say that I began to cry.

Funny, anyone reading this might say that crying for the loss of a life is anything but shameful, but the fact is I've been ashamed of my sadness since your passing. I didn't know you personally Bethany, and felt that my sadness was nothing compared to that of your best friends, your family, but mostly your parents. In the two and a half years that we attended Redeemer together, I only had one conversation with you. I didn't think I had any right to be crying the way I did.

I wish I had known you. I remember that conversation we had on the first day of LAUNCH where the commuters got together for a meet and greet. I remember you saying how you had something like a 40 minute drive to Redeemer from home, but you loved that time. You said that you used the drive over to play music and worship the Lord before you started your day. I  remember your smile and the way your eyes lit up when you talked about it, and I thought, "This girl is genuine in her faith. She doesn't do this out of obligation, but out of joyful love for God". That conversation couldn't have lasted for more than a few minutes, but it has always stuck in my mind since that day years ago.

Every time I saw you after that in the halls, I would think, "That's Bethany!" and I was instantly a little happier because I knew what a great person you were. The first time I saw you, I contemplated saying hi, but decided against it. I'm painfully shy, am afraid of making friends, and avoid meeting new people at all costs. Whenever I saw you go by it was as if I was seeing an opportunity for a great friendship pass me.

Today during your celebration, as I heard your friends and general admirers talk about you, it was clear to me how right I was: you were like sunshine to those around you, and anyone who didn't know you was lacking in their lives. It was also clear to me how I had no reason to be intimidated because you would've welcomed me with open arms. I wish I was braver, I wish I did say hi, I wish we could've been friends.

Listening to the many stories about you today, and hearing your favourite worship songs and Bible verses, it was obvious that you were someone who was not intimidated by relationships because you loved so freely. More than that, you were not intimidated by God. You delighted in Him and His love for you; you saw Him as your daddy Abba. I forget so often how God smiles at me, all I seem to remember are the ways I fail him. But not you, you were secure in the way He loved you, and doesn't even remember our failures. I have a feeling you wouldn't have let me forget about God's delight for His creation.

So I cried as we sang, "You're a Good Father" because I'm touched by your life even after you're gone. Even now, you're challenging me to remember that I'm always a daddy's girl in the eyes of my Saviour. The way my earthly dad spoils and loves me to bits and pieces is nothing compared to God's love for me.

Maybe I'll be a little braver from now on, and try to be friends with someone who loves God the way you do. Maybe I'll even say hi. But for now, when I talk to Jesus, I'll ask Him to say hi to you for me. I hope you get my message.

See you in heaven Bethany. I'll be sure to come find you there.

-Lisette