No Regrets

“But charge Joshua, and encourage him, and strengthen him: for he shall go over before this people” -Deut. 3:28

I do intend to finish my series on “callings” but life keeps interrupting. This time it is the death of an old friend. I wrote an article last year telling about my friend, Glenn, who I had known since second grade. We were an odd couple; me, the child from Sunday school and he, the wild child. Our odyssey of friendship continued over the years to the point where he called about 15 months ago and told me of his bout with cancer and new found faith in Jesus. It must have been difficult for this life-long atheist to acknowledge his error, but he stumbled his way to faith as best he could. I supported him in that as best I could. It was a topic of frequent conversation in my house as to when I should visit him up in Illinois once more before something happened. But busy schedules and hopeful remission reports always managed to put it on the back burner.

Last month, another friend sent me a newspaper clipping telling about the sale of the bulk of Glenn’s 70 acre, non-descript farm to a parks conservancy for $1.2 million dollars. He had bought the property years before when no one wanted it. I was now the friend of a millionaire. I knew it would not change his lifestyle any. He did not even own a TV. I just had to call him and kid him about being the first millionaire on our old block. His voice was weak from another dose of radiation. The cancer was back. Nevertheless, I congratulated him, and he told me it was already spent. He had set it all up in trust funds for his children. The irony was rich. Average working man struggles whole life to make do and get ahead. Gains million dollar windfall and faces death in same month. It was the kind of picture that jars the conscience of anyone nursing even the whiff of material values. So what is the really important legacy we leave? What are we striving for? What goals have we fixed our hearts upon? Glenn always appreciated the humor of situations like that. I know he must have had a good laugh signing over the checks. His gallows sense of humor had never left him … until last week.

In finishing up our phone conversation a couple of weeks ago, he confessed he didn’t know how much longer he could hang on. His goals were largely accomplished, and the struggle was intensifying. I told him to persist a little longer; that I wanted to see him one more time before he died. He agreed. I hung up the phone and started to make plans to travel north over spring break. I wrote him to tell him so on one of those sarcastic get well cards, the kind he would have liked. I enclosed a CD with a song I wanted him to hear. It was a call to praise God every morning, in the bad times and the good. Getting a small package in the mail is always clumsy for me for it meant a trip to the post office. And then there was the holiday. So finally, last Wednesday, it started on its way north. It must have arrived on Saturday. His caretaker picked up his mail for him and found his body Sunday morning. He had ended his struggle by his own hand. My package had gone unopened.

My mind went back to a Bible study just last Friday evening. “So how do you follow the leading of the Holy Spirit?” Not very well, I guess. The promptings, the delays, the slackness of hand, all haunt me now. Hours lost when hope hung by a thread. Another reminder in my life to listen to those quiet leadings now instead of later. Flowers for the living, “I love you’s” while we can, simple touches when we are led, and encouragement rendered out of instant obedience all contribute to a life of no regrets. I’m sorry, Glenn.