How Will People Remember Me?

I don't do weird things just so I have something to blog about. My life is just weird. I'm just weird. What I'm about to relay is too embarrassing to tell anyone, but I figure if your aim in reading this blog is to get to know me better, then you should know that I am a GOOFBALL. I don't pretend to be perfect. I yell at my kids. I am sarcastic to my husband. I care too much about stuff. I am passionate about things I don't know enough about...

Which brings me to today. I graduated from a seminary called Covenant. It took me a long time because I only took one class at a time except for one full-time semester. Mostly I took evening classes, and they all had hundreds of people in them. I got to know a couple of people well, but for the most part I recognized a lot of faces and knew a lot of people's first names. This week a tragedy happened to one of the girls who I graduated with. No one really knows what happened except they found her dead body late one night by her treadmill. It was completely unexpected. She was only 28, healthy, smart, loved life. Her name was Julie.

I found out about it 2 ways: First, some friends on Facebook started talking about how sad they were and one of them who works there shared the details on her service time and place. Then I got an email from the pastor of a church where we attended for about a year when my husband thought he might want to become ordained. It encouraged people to come, even those who didn't know her well. I had some classes with Julie. I remembered her as being very sweet and quiet. She was really gentle and had spent some time overseas doing missions work before coming to seminary. I really felt like I should go.

I got there right on time. They had pictures in the lobby, but I didn't have time to look at them. I just had time to slip into the back of the familiar chapel where I had worshipped many times as a student and employee of Covenant. People started sharing, and I was weepy. I was mourning because a young woman's life had been taken. I was grieving because I want to live the kind of life where those words would be said about me. I was particularly moved by the last verse in one of the hymns we sang called Christ Alone: "From life's first cry to final breath, Jesus commands my destiny." The service was long, and many people shared special memories of Julie. They talked about how she possessed a quiet strength, loved Jesus, loved people--all the things I remembered about her.

The last person to stand up and share took my breath away. She looked so much like Julie I thought they must have been twins. Then it hit me. Wrong Julie. I slipped out during the final song, nervous that someone would ask me how I knew Julie. I needed to look at the pictures in the lobby. She looked kind of familiar. Nope. Let's be honest. I have no idea who she is. I sat through 2 hours of a memorial service for a girl named Julie who I don't know at all. I suddenly felt like my--like someone who I love dearly who goes to funerals as a hobby. In the true spirit of this person, I shoved some cheese into my mouth on the way out. I promise I didn't know there would be snacks there. I could have eaten cheese at home.

The good news is that my friend named Julie is alive and doing fine. I am glad in some ways that I was there to support the family and grieve with my Covenant family. But when I die and people are sharing adjectives about me and my life, it's OK to say I'm a dork. And could you wrap some of that really good cheese in a napkin and put it in my casket with me?