In Honor of My Friend

Yesterday I was supposed to say a final goodbye to a friend. We've been needing this day for a long time. To have closure, they say. I've said it too. But with no casket and no body to actually say farewell to, I didn't really feel it.

Perhaps I said goodbye to her on that shocking day nine months ago - nine long months ago - when she left this world. She had been sick for about a week but expected to beat it. I talked to her on the phone one day by FaceTime. Thank God for FaceTime.

I remember it vividly. To help get their house in sell-ready condition, I was painting our son's bedroom while entertaining his daughter, my darling first granddaughter. This was no small feat to begin with. Ever painted a room with a five-year-old firing off nonstop questions such as, "Mimi, can't I help you paint? Mimi, when can I paint? Mimi, is it my turn?"

We were all in constant prayer and on high alert, waiting to hear any improved news from the hospital my friend was pretty well locked down in because of covid quarantine and restrictions; phone calls scattered and unpromised.

My beloved, worried, scared daughter-in-law finally was able to connect with her mom, my sick friend. After a brief conversation and before needing to hang up, Brittany gave me a gift. She put the phone in my hand, interrupting her own conversation with her mom, giving me a few minutes to see my friend's face and hear her voice. I didn't know it would be the last time. 

We had been eager for her to get well and drive to Syracuse from her home in Connecticut so we could celebrate our shared granddaughter's 5th birthday. We went in on a big girl bike for Addy and wanted to present it together. Would we learn today when she would be released and birthday party date set?

She was in bed and on oxygen. She (still) looked herself, smiley, even laughed a bit, albeit somewhat weary. Sick of being sick, I figured. I wasted no time on small talk. I looked her in the eye and told her I loved her. That's not normal for me. I tend to need to warm up and save that kind of declaration for just before saying goodbye. But it came out with urgency. Holding her gaze, I reminded her of all the friends and family who love her and were praying for healing. I told her Jesus was with her, even in this, and that He is good and trustworthy. She already knew that. I said I'd see her soon and couldn't wait to hug her.

Keeping close tabs every day, we hoped for the news we wanted. A few days later, Drew called and through tears, his wife sobbing beside him, said, "She didn't make it." 

I admit, I didn't know what he was saying. Who didn't? One of the zoo of dogs belonging to his in-laws? 

I pressed, "What did you say?" 

"She didn't make it." 

Wait, are we talking about Brenda? No, that can't be right. "What do you mean, 'she didn't make it'?"

"She died, Mom," he barely croaked out. I regretted making him say it three times while his wife openly wailed, but I was aghast. I don't think any of us expected this outcome. How could she be gone? She is younger than me! She's always been so, so, full of life. It can't be.

My turn to weep. I wasn't prepared. (Are we ever?) How could I comfort these two kids when I was suddenly stabbed with the pain of loss? I couldn't imagine a world without Brenda in it. She was a huge presence. 

As was recalled at yesterday's Celebration of Life ceremony, which was standing room only, packed with those whose lives she touched, Brenda was one of a kind. She and I came together about ten years ago when my oldest son and her oldest daughter fell in love at Bible College. As they planned their future, we became fast friends. Her one-of-a-kindness was evident immediately.

As our friendship grew, we became prayer partners, often sharing prayer requests for our kids. She called on me more often than I did of her, but I remember the day I did reach out to her. I had said some things that I thought were to be the doom of a relationship, no future for trust to be built, I had blown it and didn't see it resolving well. I asked Brenda to pray. I'll never forget how loving and encouraging she was to help me see through my own insecurities and fears and find truth. She understood and propped me up, mom to mom. She was the one I needed in that moment, and I thanked God for her often. She was a faithful friend. But she was so much more. 

Have you heard of Brenda Burke-DeSantos hugs? Legendary. She didn't just lean in and pat you on the back with a quick release. You know, polite-like, actually caring if you wanted to hug? No tentative does she really want to hug me or is she just being polite embrace. She grabbed you and brought you in. Body to body, her warmth permeated you. 

And it wasn't quick. It lasted as long as she wanted it to! No personal space respected.  I realized some time later it wasn't just because she was a hugger. She wanted it and she wanted you to know it - to know you were valued, that you mattered to her. She didn't seem to care if she knew you well or it was a first-time introduction. I marveled at this.

Over time I came to love these hugs myself. Living in two different states, we mostly only saw each other on special family occasions. Because I spent more time with our grandchildren and their parents more often than she did for a season, I would not crash the scene when it was her time to visit them.

Except this once, I was missing her. I snuck over to Drew and Britt's house and came through the door. Addy shouted, "Mimi! What are you doing here?" I sheepishly, yet somehow confident it would be ok, replied, "I'm not here to stay, I just needed one of your Grammie's hugs." Brenda wasted no time embracing me. I can't remember what was bothering me that prompted this show of neediness (also not characteristic of me usually), but it calmed me and soothed me and I left feeling better.

Most importantly, she taught me how to live the Gospel. The thing about this exceptional woman that everyone who knows her testifies to (I have heard this countless times by dozens) is how her home and heart is always open to you. And I mean ALWAYS. Weekly family dinner far exceeded blood family. And all of her kids' friends, nieces and nephews, boyfriends, girlfriends, hairdressers, dog groomers (oy the dogs!), etc. knew it and came fully expecting to get that hug knowing they were wanted. I honestly don't think they came for the food, though there was always plenty. 

The real kicker in my observation was how she saw and loved each one the same. She listened to them. She was safe. No one was turned away no matter what they had done - even if they had hurt her. How she could treat everyone like they were her favorite, while excluding no one was as much a mystery to me then as it is today. How did she do it? It almost seemed, the messier the life, the more she insisted on showing love to that one(s).

Oftentimes, seeing this extravagant love and acceptance in action, I would compare myself to her and when I did, I would always come up wanting. I've been the quick, pat, lean in type of hugger myself. Not too close, not wanting anyone uncomfortable, overthinking big love (too much too soon?). Burtis family dinner meant dinner for five, pulling the leaves and extra chairs out for special occasions, not weekly. Healthy boundaries, right? Sometimes I would include their friends, the ones I liked. I may have said I had an 'open door policy' and 'you're always welcome here' but it was nothing like Brenda's - who had strays sleeping on her couches on a regular basis. I'd like to think I loved those most in need of love, but if I'm honest, I favored those who had it a little more together if you will. 

This is where I learned from Brenda how to be more like Jesus and how to live the Gospel. Jesus came to Earth to show who His Father is, to invite everyone to join His family, to give His life away by enduring hardship, rejection, betrayal, suffering, beatings and death for the ones in the most need - the ones He loved the most - the poor, the sick, the down and out, the sinners, the ashamed. Wherever those hung out, Jesus was in their midst. He loved them and they loved Him in return. 

This is the way to do it.

Brenda got it. 

Perhaps she remembered the shape she was in when Jesus called her to follow Him. Perhaps she was daily mindful of her gratitude for God's forgiveness of her own sins. Perhaps she realized she needed Him every day to help her live according to His ways. That's a good place to start because that's where we all live, am I right?

In her memory and honor, I aspire to take on more of my friend's lifestyle (she gave me a front row seat to Biblical hospitality), by becoming more like Jesus myself. Understanding the Gospel - that Jesus came to save sinners - those who've messed up the most or the most frequently, I will offer a safe place where there is no shame for how you got there, a listening ear and a warm meal. A place where Jesus' love is freely on display for one and all. No questions asked. No good behavior required. He brought salvation, eternal life and only requires one thing of us. It's here in one of my favorite quotes from Jesus himself in John 6:37: "whoever comes to me I will never cast out." One thing - come. 

In the meantime, I'll remember her fondly. I can only think of one thing about her I would change - her infernal love of dogs! I've never experienced so many pets in one house. I actually asked her once, "What is this new dog going to do for you that the other 7 doesn't do?" She just laughed and said, "I don't know!"

I'm so grateful I got to tell her I love her one last time (for now). I miss my friend. I miss her laugh. I miss her understanding and encouragement and prayers. I miss her hugs. I miss watching her loving relationship with her daughter, my daughter-in-law, always leaving room for me to be a part of them. I miss the way she loved my son. I miss the way she adored our shared grandchildren. 

I grieve the huge hole in all of their lives. That Brittany no longer has a mom to share her life with every day, feeling her love and encouragement in everything she does. That Addy and Judah will have little memory of the limited time they spent with their Grammie. A giant loss for them - she loved them so big. And I grieve my boy's loss of a champion and prayer warrior mother-in-law on his behalf.

My heart also breaks for Brenda's other three daughters, one son, one daughter-in-law, two sons-in-law, three grandchildren and dear husband. When the young (similar in age, she and I considered ourselves young!) leave the earth, it feels wrong, too soon. I feel that. Some days I still can't believe she's gone. I still can't imagine the world without her in it.

But God makes no mistakes and none of our tears are wasted. The Bible clearly tells us that our days are numbered by Him. He's in control and He's good. He's trustworthy and still has good things for those of us still here on earth. 

And truthfully, we should be so happy for Brenda - she wins! She finished her race. Her Father welcomed her into glorious eternity - His very presence! Yup, she's a lot better off than us. We are the ones left still having to wait for our day of ecstasy that is planned for each of us who have trusted Jesus as Saviour. It will come. That day when He welcomes us to heaven with a giant, all-encompassing hug that will remind us of our girl who gave us a taste of what it will be like.