Our friends Steve and Wendy are part of our local church family. They are the same ages as our parents and we are the same ages as their kids. Steve went home to be with Jesus on Saturday. He spent the last 2 years refusing to succumb to ALS (amyotrophic lateral sclerosis). He held onto his life, his loved ones, his faith, and he clung faithfully to the hand of God. Wendy continues to be faithful. Every time I looked at them, thought about them, or heard of them, I thought of Jesus. Steve and Wendy look like Jesus. They act like Jesus. They love like Jesus. ALS is a downward spiral from good health into no health at all and they resolutely set themselves toward this hard path, trusting that God could save them, and still trusting Him even if He chose not to. Who does that sound like? Yes, just like Jesus on His road to the cross.
Matt and Wendy served together at our church as shepherds, leaders assigned to care for, pray for, and love small groups of people in a personal way. They think through the overall health of our church and listen carefully to discern what God has for our church to be and to do and to become. Steve and I each served a term on the other leadership committee, the Ministry Board. Steve was our treasurer and I was our social action chair. There were so many wonderful things about Steve and his love for God. Selfishly, one thing stands out most prominently in my memories of him.
Steve was proud of me. I wasn’t his kid, but he was still proud of me and he told me often. Steve was so proud of his two sons and his grandchildren. You always knew when another grandchild had arrived because Steve was at church the next Sunday wearing a new tshirt depicting the photo and name of the new arrival. I cried like a baby when I saw his third grandchild tshirt. Steve and Wendy’s son and daughter-in-law adopted a little boy from Ethiopia. When Crew finally came home, Steve wore his Crew shirt the next Sunday, as proud to be a grandpa as ever! It was beautiful.
He made a point to pull me aside every once in awhile after our monthly meetings and say that he appreciated what I had to say or that he appreciated my leadership. Even when I stepped down from my role, he reminisced with me about my efforts in our church’s commitment to our Rafiki village in Malawi. He thought I was someone God would use in His kingdom and he told me so. I never thanked Steve for being proud of me and for letting me know how much he valued me. I wish I had told him how very much that means to the little girl inside me who peeks out and wonders if she will ever be enough in a dad’s estimation. Steve thought I was and that meant a lot.
Wendy fell in love with newborn Nathaniel at first sight and the dreamy-eyed gazes were mutual! She used to snuggle him during the church service so that Matt and I could just be there and worship. Baby Nathaniel got big and active and spent his Sunday mornings systematically emptying Wendy’s purse and tossing the contents and slobbering all over everything, and she still asked for him! She told us she loved it. We tried to apologize and hustle him out of there and she wouldn’t even give him back! “He’s fine!” she would insist, and then kiss his soft, slobbery cheek.
As Steve’s physical condition worsened, he began riding in what Zach and Rissa call his “robot chair.” Zach was interested in all of the buttons and Rissa was interested in obtaining her own robot chair! As long as he was able, Steve’s chair sat at the end of a particular pew on Sunday mornings. We waved to him, gave him hugs, and the kids checked out his chair. Eventually, it was hard for him to speak because his muscle control was waning, but he still asked how we were doing and especially remembered to ask about the kids (who were likely running laps around his chair and trying to push the buttons when we weren’t looking). I think Steve was as proud of Nathaniel for finally learning to walk as we were!
We attended the visitation this evening while Zach and Rissa were at Awana. There was quite a line already waiting to go up and speak with the family when we arrived, and it got longer and longer. Steve and Wendy mean so much to so many people. Nathaniel wanted to charge her and give his loves and while unbridled love is always sweet, we made him wait until we got a bit closer. He ran over, said “Hi!” and reached up for her to pick him up. He came back to us afterward and said, “I div her HUD, Mommy!” He gives such great hugs! When it was our turn, I nearly lost it when my little man reached for again and gave her “hud hud, tiss tiss.” She was talking to me and he said, “I wuv you!” and wrapped his little arms around Wendy’s neck. We had talked to him about how Miss Wendy was sad today because she is missing Mr. Steve and he thought that huds and tisses would hep her feel better. And he was right, she told him that he was her little sunshine and that his hugs and kisses DID help her. I’m so grateful for my sweet, loving kids and the ministry of love that they already have, even at such a young age.
And then I did lose it. Because, there in the pew where it sat for so many Sundays was Steve’s chair. And he wasn’t in it. ALS didn’t win. It didn’t trap him in that chair forever. He can walk again. He can run! He can speak and breathe and do more than we can imagine! He is not bound to that chair because ALS can only last until death. But Steve can last forever. He faithfully waited, patient to be free. And now he is. We miss him immensely but we’ll see him again.
His chair wasn’t empty. Heidi Hanson created this beautiful painting to sit where Steve once sat. Its beauty made me cry.
