Faith, Hope, and Love

I just found out tonight that a dear friend, Jeanie Peay, passed away after a long battle with cancer. I am in shock right now, and what words I type for the sorrow I am feeling cannot come close to describing what is on my heart. But I know God is speaking to my heart right now, comforting when all that can be found are tears wrought with anguish. For I know that there are many reasons to be joyful at her homecoming, and as a Christian I must find solace and smile through the pain. I pray that my words come close to doing justice for the memory of a woman who helped plant her seeds of faith in my heart.

When I was a child, our families were friends with each other. My dad worked with Jeanie's husband, Jeanie and my mom were friends, and their three children were friends with my brother, sister, and me. I have many fond memories of going to their farm to hang out with them, play tag in the barnyard and such games boys play with girls as children. When they moved away, it was difficult to remain close, and it wasn't until tragedy struck that I was led back to their family.

In 1997 the middle daughter, Amie, was murdered in a robbery as she worked in a sandwich shop in Wichita. She was in college at the time, and when I received the news, it hit me like a punch to the stomach. Though I hadn't talked to her in six months, it still felt like a part of me was taken away. That night I sat in bed in my dormitory, unable to sleep, unable to think, unable to forgive. God was number one on my list of enemies. Over and over I questioned how God could allow this to happen to a wonderful Christian woman, someone who dedicated her life to the Lord and His ministries with her various missions. It just wasn't fair. And the longer I thought about it, the madder I got until I knew that my soul was in danger. I knew I needed to pray, knew I needed to ask for forgiveness for such thoughts, but I couldn't. I just couldn't.

About three in the morning I called a friend on the phone, and to her credit, she asked no questions, but just listened to me. After I had demonstrated my lost faith, she cradled me in her prayer, loving me when I couldn't love anything. After I hung up, I fell asleep, but I didn't feel much better. That was until I went to the funeral.

The whole city of Wichita was up in arms over the senseless murder. The pews were packed, television crews lined the back wall, and from my vantage point towards the rear, I couldn't really see much.

But it was what I heard that changed my life forever.

It was mentioned that Amie had somehow known that her time on earth was quickly coming to a close. So in preparation, she had asked not for sorrow at her funeral, but rejoicing. So we stood and sang praise and worship songs, cheerful ones. I say "we" but at first it was "they" because I was shocked. All the hatred I had inside me was being tossed like a salad and I didn't know what was happening inside of me. And lost somewhere in the joyful music, I started crying and I found my words, words of joy that I sang at the top of my voice. I knew then that God had a master plan and as tough as it was (and still is) I knew Amie's death wasn't for nothing. She had died so that I could live. I immediately accepted Jesus into my heart and felt the love that Amie had felt all along.

Both of Amie's parents were models for me also. They spent many hours and days comforting Amie's friends with a covering of prayer. Her father told a newspaper reporter, "They would become enveloped by that prayer covering and go out to minister to other heartbroken friends. At this point I believe the scales began to literally fall from our eyes, and we now began to see with spiritual eyes, the plan unfolding that God had set in motion when He sent the gift of Amie to this world."

From that day on I have felt the mission of sharing Jesus.

That Fall I went hunting with Amie's dad, who told me that he and Jeanie had to forgive the men who murdered Amie. They sat with the murderers' parents and wept together. I hadn't forgiven those evil men as of yet, but there I sat at a table in a small diner, clad in hunter orange, listening to a life lesson from a man who had more right than me to harbor a grudge. I was ashamed of myself. I think of that conversation from time to time and I still am amazed at what love Amie's parents had.

Jeanie was diagnosed with cancer some five or so years back, though it seems longer. She was not given a very promising outlook, but if there was a person in the world who could lick this, it was her! Upbeat, positive, and full of faith, hope, and love, she fought it head on. Last Fall, the last time I was to speak to her, she called me on the phone for a hotel listing in Ponca City, the town I live in, because, I found out, she was taking flights out of Ponca to go to Houston for treatments. Of course it wasn't just a five minute conversation. We got to talking about everything important about life. We talked about Amie, how she affected so many lives, and I couldn't help but think that the same was true of the Godly woman I was talking to. She said that every time she talked to the doctor, the doctor would give her the same prognosis: essentially that she had a very short time left. Of course the doctor had been giving her the same news for years! How she had the strength to keep fighting, keep proving the doctors wrong, I'll never know.

She confided to me that she missed Amie a lot, and I agreed. She said that she was so ready for God to bring her and Amie back together, but God has other plans, and as a servant to Him, she would go on living life and loving until it was time for Him to call her home. When we said our good byes, I didn't think it would be the last time. If there was anyone who could have the strength to keep fighting, it was Jeanie. I knew she would continue to struggle, but I prayed for God to bless her and those with whom she came into contact.

So tonight I found out that she had lost her battle with cancer back in March. Just like twelve years ago, the news took my breath away. I just knew that she was still going strong. She had to be. In my own cowardice, I lived through her to find strength, just as I had when Amie died. I somehow thought that I too might be strong just by knowing her, just by being a small part of her life. And it hurts. It aches inside because it reminds me of the pain I felt when Amie died, but it is somehow different now. Amie did her work with me. She placed me on my feet, and many people since have showed me how to walk. In Jeanie's case she showed me how to keep walking, even when I feel I can't. Through my selfish tears right now, I can't help but smile, knowing that Jeanie and Amie have been reunited. Oh! To feel that love! What it must be like!

"My ears had heard of you
but now my eyes have seen you."
Job 42: 5