Goodbye My Friend

There are so few people who know how to be real friends. I've had people in my life who called themselves friends, but when times got tough or we disagreed on something, they flew away, unable to hold true to their own declaration of friendship.

In the summer of 1977, I met Eldon Brock. He was the director of the Regular Baptist Camp of Lake Ann, Michigan, and I went there as a counselor. Before I got there, I had never been to camp before in my life. I had no idea how to be a camper, let alone a counselor, but Eldon believed in me because of my testimony of faith in Jesus Christ. Most of the people in our circles knew my husband long before they met me, but that wasn't true of Eldon Brock. I knew him first.

A few incidents stand out from my summer at Lake Ann, but nothing more drastically than the fact that Eldon Brock believed in me. He listened to me. I'm talking about looking me in the eye and really listening as though what I had to say had validity. He listened to every word I ever said to him as though he had all the time in the world just for me.

This blew me away and I have never forgotten. He was the camp director, I was nearly a waif, new in my Christian walk and not even knowing the "language" of Christianity, yet he was so incredibly kind. He treated me as an equal, not someone under him. My respect for him was sealed at Lake Ann.

Life gets full and busy and I moved on from Lake Ann, got married and had a couple quivers full of children. But, I have never forgotten how kind Eldon Brock was to me.

In the past few years, my husband got to experience a deep friendship with Eldon through E-TEM, Ethnic to Ethnic Ministries, which Eldon founded. David serves on the board of directors for E-TEM and so often, the two of them would have long, encouraging phone calls. Eldon called him just two weeks before he died and further encouraged us both through that phone call.

We got the email from Eldon's daughter, Eldonna, on August 25 that he had died. He'd known his time was coming and told us. I've never known that people could die with such grace.
I miss him already.
He had the youngest, most energetic vision for ministry I have ever seen.
He never grew tired of truly listening.
What a rare, rare friend, indeed.
Goodbye for now, my friend. We will see you again.
Until then, I will miss you and your constantly positive influence in my life.
~Tricia

Why I Still Miss Her so Much

Linda was my sister-in-law, one of my husband's older sisters. She and I had a rocky relationship over the years, sometimes not seeing eye-to-eye on things, sometimes arguing, etc., but mostly loving.  My background was the polar opposite of hers.  She was raised in a Christian home where Christ was front and center. Her parents were missionaries in Ontario, Canada, and Linda learned the ropes of ministry growing up. Before her parents went to the Canadian mission field, they served in pastoral ministry in the US.  My background was filled with violent alcoholism, abuse of all kinds, and no mention of Jesus Christ except in a fit of rage.

Over the years, through our ups and downs, Linda became my true friend.

True friends are hard to come by. I am blessed to have some true friends in my life even to this day, including my four wonderful sisters. (Sisters are beyond special, but that's another blog post!)  But I no longer have Linda.  Linda died young - at age 54 - and that was more than 7 years ago.  I still miss her. I still long for her friendship at times.  Sometimes I'm angry with her for leaving me....as though it's all about me.

Let me tell you what I miss most:

1. I could call Linda any time, night or day, and she never once asked what I wanted or why I was calling. Think about that.  How often do we want people to state their business so we can get off the phone? Linda treated me as though she had been sitting by the phone, waiting for my call, and had all the time in the world, just for me.

2. Linda always, without fail, pointed me to Jesus Christ. We would talk about our burdens, our kids, our extended families, our ministries, etc., and every time, we came back around to Christ.

3. Linda didn't keep track of stuff.  She never kept track of who called who last, how long it had been between calls (we lived 750 miles apart, calls were not always frequent).  She didn't keep track! That meant she didn't keep score.  "Even Steven" did not exist to her and thus, friendship was free to flourish. And flourish it did.

4.  Linda had patience for my past.  What I mean is, none of my problems were ever too much for her to bear with me. I came from a pretty ugly place; it stays with you. It's a rare person who can allow you to feel all the stuff that coming from there leaves you with.

I could go on and on.  What a great gift her friendship was to me!

When she was sick, in her last days, I called her every single day, sometimes twice and three times a day. I had to hear her voice.  She knew she was dying.  She would ask about my kids, each one by name. I could hear the smile in her voice. And when I hung up the phone, I cried. Every time.  I knew I was going to miss her terribly.  In one of our last phone calls, she said, "I love you."

My word.
Praise be.
I will see her again!
~Tricia