There was a girl I knew growing up; she and I were classmates in 7th and 8th grade, but I went on to the Catholic high school and she went to the public high school. She wasn't gorgeous, but she was attractive enough. We didn't get along because she thought, as many kids do at that age, that she was above me on the social pecking order. Every once in a while she would remind me of my lowly place in the St. Mary's pecking order. I didn't care for that, but I figured one girl's opinion didn't matter very much and there were other girls who were nice to me. I also assumed, even then, that her occasional eagerness to put me in my place was a function of her own insecurity about her station. At that age, girls who are attractive enough don't wield the power that the truly gorgeous ones do, and they know it. And, perhaps, she was right about me, but after 40 years none of that matters any more.
We moved on with our lives, heading in different directions. I got the hell out of my hometown as soon as I could and found my life elsewhere. She stayed in my hometown and eventually got married to a guy who worked as a welder in one of the many factories in the area. I was surprised when she friended me on Facebook, but I accepted her request. I would get an occasional glimpse into her life; she and her husband reared two daughters and they seemed like a happy family. She and her husband liked to take vacations and had the wherewithal to do it, apparently. I'd see photos of them in Mexico, in New Orleans for Mardi Gras, like that. From what I could tell, they had made a nice life. I never met her husband, but he looked like a nice guy.
Her husband died over the weekend, apparently without warning. I'm guessing he had a heart attack, but I haven't figured out what happened. Her grief is palpable; in the note she posted on FB she wrote about the future she and her husband had planned and all the things they wanted to accomplish as the grew old together.
I don't know what the future brings. Mrs. D and I have reared our children and they are both getting ready to move on to new things in their lives. We talk about our future from time to time, but we're usually so enmeshed in the present that we don't necessarily spend as much time planning for that future as we might otherwise. While I think planning for the future is still a good idea, life has other plans. If you can spare a prayer for the girl I knew, I'd appreciate it.
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Mrs. Picklesworth (heh) and I talk about the future quite a bit, actually. It's partially a function of doing the Dave Ramsey thing. We think about the future in order to act appropriately in the present. But partially we talk about the future because the present overwhelms. I dream of an office, (no, a den) giving out on the backyard of a home that we own (two stories). It's snowing like it doesn't snow in Iowa and the house is quiet. Faith dreams of travel.
There is a future that is ours in Christ. And there is another future that we only think is ours. I hope for them both, but I know that only the former is certain.
Incidentally, this is a theme that is brought up in the book I am reading, "Joseph and his Brothers" by Thomas Mann. Jacob dreams for 7 years of his future with Rachel. And he gives his heart and his love on that first night only to find that he has been betrayed by his father-in-law. He has given himself to Leah. The future cannot be what he had hoped, not in quite the same way.
May your childhood acquaintance know her future in Christ and may she find a new future, not the one she hoped for, but one that is meaningful nevertheless.
Seems the longer I live, the more funerals I attend... Nothing in this world is promised.
It makes me think of the Carver poem, "Cherish", and the post I wrote back in a season when my days appeared to be all too numerable.
http://nolongeriwholive.tumblr.com/post/111112347885/cherish
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