Wednesday I continued to chug along at my sermon. After around 4 rewrites, 3 calls to my dad, and a final send-off to Frank, my sermon was fairly finished. I could breathe. Was it perfectly written? No. Would it work? Hopefully. I could finally turn my focus towards the rest of the day's events: confirmation and the Nate Houge concert. Both went off seamlessly. Watching Nate perform was quite a treat. He had a great mix of humor and music: those are my favorite things in life. However, my evening took an unfortunate turn. I received word from my dad that Jim Bailie, a beloved member of the church I grew up in, had passed away. I was stunned. There will be more on that later in this blog.
Thursday I was able to preach at the LaRoKi conference without any issues. We had a great program with lots of meaningful and interesting discussion. After an awesome lunch, we returned home. That evening I, along with Kate and Frank, attended the Outrageous Faith event at The Fritz in Grand Forks. It was just an amazing experience. The music was fabulous, and Nadia Bolz-Weber spoke with honestly and eloquence. I hadn't been to an event like that in ages. It was quite a feeling. After all the stress of the past couple days, it was nice to sit back and enjoy the program. Plus, I got to see the Chester Fritz Auditorium for the first time. I'd heard so many stories from my dad that it felt like putting a face to a person.
Friday was a day of melancholy. I have nothing to add about Friday, except that it was Friday. So, it had that going for it.
Saturday was a day spent thinking about what I was missing back in NKY. My parents had the opportunity to attend the funeral for Jim Bailie, and I felt stuck. I wanted to be there. I wanted to go and support a family, and a man, who always supported those around them. All I could do was watch people post their memories, wishes, and prayers on Facebook. I sat there, waiting for the "stuck" feeling to turn into sadness. I waited for tears. Those things never came. What happened instead was an oddly calm feeling, and I found myself smiling.
Jim was one of those people that did nothing but spread joy. He never had a bad word about anyone, and he could joke with the best of them. He raised three amazing young men, but had the softest heart you could ever imagine. It sounds cheesy, but Jim was the epitome of 1 Corinthians 13:4-8. You know, the "love is patient, love" is kind verse that they always read at weddings? If you replace the word "love" with "Jim Bailie", that is what you get. He was patient, kind, did not envy, did not boast, and was not proud. He did not dishonor others. He wasn't self-seeking, easily angered, and he kept no record of wrongs. He rejoiced in the truth. He always protected, trusted, hoped, and persevered. Jim was someone I should always aspire to be like.
That is why it was, and is, difficult for me to feel sadness. While there is some sorrow, I cannot find myself dwelling in it. Jim lived his life in a full and amazing way. Yes, it's sad that he was on the young side of what we consider "old enough" to pass on. But he has left so much joy in those he's met. To be able to meet someone like Jim, someone who lives their life so fully and so completely, is to know overwhelming joy. It is difficult to mourn someone who provided such exuberance. Instead there was, and should be, immense celebration of the life he had. To spend my time in tears would feel selfish, and it would feel like a disservice to his memory. I need to keep him in my heart, and live love in the same ways he did.
This week was a mess, but it was a beautiful mess. It was full of laughter, sadness, stress, and calm. Even in the hardest parts of my week, there was a beauty in the struggle. It was in the most difficult moments that I found myself the calmest. I only hope that in the future I can remember this week and tell myself to just breathe.
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