“I feel sad,” I admitted to my friend Wynette as she rode with me while driving around Tulsa, noticing how things had changed. I was grieving. I was in town to attend services for my former roommate and friend, Lena. I missed another friend who was in her home state recovering from a serious surgery. Things felt different. Some people who felt like my anchors in that city weren’t there. 

We caught up on life. I had already told her about how in the middle of last year, things at work started going off the rails. A job with some level of volatility but still with some security became less and less manageable, while my relationships outside of work were flourishing. I caught her up on the life flip-flop–work had started to steady out, but some of my relationships became tumultuous.  I had started the year off in a good space though. I even had a good teacher evaluation but later that day I found out about Lena’s passing and my other friend’s surgery. I should note that these are Bible School friends, around my age. 

Uncertainty.  

Wynette and I had lots of conversations riding around Tulsa. Sharing memories about Lena, giving more life updates, talking about the future, and reminiscing, with lots of laughs of course. There’s always lots of laughs and loud talking with Wynette. I was so thankful to have Wynette there. I had a lot to process. A lot to grieve. I drove around to most of the places I had lived, where I had roommates and life-changing connections. After telling Wynette about my sadness, she remembered me telling her how I have a hard time with change. I admitted to her that it was because I didn’t believe that things would be better than they were in some really good moments. And I had some really good moments in Tulsa. But I continued to live and I learned, that there are still good moments to be had. That I now believed ‘the best is yet to come.’ I’m not as naive though– I know that hard times will continue to come as well. I was still living in one. 

 I think as humans, and even more as spiritual beings we long for permanence, a steadiness that we can trust in but nothing on this earth is permanent. 

Then just before traveling back home, I started feeling sick. Ugh. Traveling sick is the worst. Between the sickness, most likely the flu, I was in a bit of a fog over the next several days. I wasn’t paying attention to what started happening nationally, but being from DC, that meant locally, and eventually, I’d get caught up.  I started reading text threads and group messages and realized, there was a lot of change happening in DC too. With the inauguration and a slew of executive orders, people’s lives–of friends, and family began to get upended. So many things are changing. 

More uncertainty. 

Uncertainty. In a moment's notice things can change. Over time things always change. It can be unsettling. I think as humans, and even more as spiritual beings we long for permanence, a steadiness that we can trust in but nothing on this earth is permanent. I’m probably unintentionally sounding like Solomon in Ecclesiastes, 

“Meaningless! Meaningless!”

    says the Teacher.

“Utterly meaningless!

    Everything is meaningless.” (Ecc1:1)

But I’m not actually feeling despair like him. Apart from feeling very reflective like Solomon, I don’t feel everything is meaningless. As I expressed to Wynette, I believe the best is yet to come. I think if you’ve lived your life well, you won’t find meaning and purpose in a lot of things but you will find it in the most important things. I think Solomon was coming to the end of himself because though he had everything and had life experiences that only others dreamed about, they weren’t the important things in life. In times of uncertainty and loss, I think you come to realize what’s most important. 

One of those most important things being how well you love people. At the funeral, there were countless stories told of the way Lena loved others, even a page in the funeral program dedicated to pictures of her signature kisses. Lena showered love on others. People weren’t othered in her presence, regardless of your status or story, Lena would love on you. Lena shared her love of God in the way she loved others.  She embodied “Your strong love for each other will prove to the world that you are my disciples.” (John 13:35 TLB)

Looking through old photos there were a bunch with Lena squeezing the life out of me. She was one of the first people I met when I returned to Tulsa for a Missions program. She welcomed me and loved my messy self.  Lena’s love stretched far to people who didn’t even know her. I reached out to a friend and former supervisor to see about getting together while I was in town. She was out of the country, but she instantly knew about Lena and how she supported her friend through their family loss. 

Lena’s passing was a reminder that life is a vapor. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the day before I found out about Lena, the sermon delivered at church was about holding on. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that in the height of the work turmoil, the advice I received from a trusted colleague was to “Hold On.” One of my favorite gospel songs, sung at Lena’s funeral by her Aunt is Total Praise by Richard Smallwood. One of the lines of the song hit me, as it usually does– “You are the source of my strength. You are the strength of my life.” I took those lyrics with me– God is my source and my strength. Even when I feel I can’t hold on, he gives me strength in my grip. And he is the one constant thing, always certain, and never changing. 

Photo provided by the author. The post is dedicated in loving memory of Melissa “Lena” Trotter.