I have been wearing black athletic pants and a dark charcoal cashmere sweater since last Friday. That’s the day my husband and I found out that our dear friend Shea had unexpectedly taken his last breath in this world and then a healed breath in heaven. The tides of the beautiful waters of the Caribbean took his life. It baffles my mind that in such aching beauty, there is an undercurrent of power that can snatch a man’s life. Today I remain in a pair of black pants, but put on a peach hoodie. The juxtaposition of grief and hope.
Death is the great clarifier. My brother’s untimely death four years ago changed the way I lived my life in small and big ways. Even in the grief and loss, there was some fundamental familial healing, some priorities shifted, and my lens on celebrations was altered. When confronted with the fragility of my earthly life and of those I love, I find myself paving paths that lead to more joy, more connection, making relationships and healing the main thing, letting rifts heal.
Only three weeks ago, Shea sent Mike and I the most lovely, encouraging text. In a dreary week in February, he took the time to name some things in our lives that meant something to him. The attributes of our parenting style, our decade of friendship, and noticing the years that Mike and I were “parenting on empty” with dedication and sacrifice. I responded that it was the most encouraging words I had received in a long time, and that his words “literally gives me the courage to keep going, to be faithful, to serve well”. He didn’t know what was coming, but he left us with powerful words, affirmation, and LIFE. I sob as I write.
How will his death change me? This man was not a man of details, of getting bogged in minutiae. He lived a big-picture life, full of vision. He mentored youth, he invested in a poor community, he valued the Gospel above all. He had a singular vision of the Kingdom…on earth as it is in Heaven. Relationships, connection, influence. People first, always. Shea ran his appointed race for 41 years, and ran hard towards Home.
Our homes are small, earthly outposts of the Kingdom of God. They represent the Home that is waiting for all of us, prepared for us by Jesus Himself. If my square footage is not used for the Kingdom of God, then what is its real value? This home isn’t meant to be a hoarded space, but a healing place. A place where values line up with eternity, a home with resurrection, transformative power. My friend embodied Home and now he is there.
Until I join Shea, I will continue to walk this quiet, faithful journey of Kingdom work, investing in this outpost and the people around me. The journey he cheered me on in, and continues to even now with that amazing cloud of witnesses surrounding him.
In mourning but with hope,
Aimee
This was such a beautiful post. I can't help but feel like your friend Shea did the job the Lord sent him to do. Just looking at the photo of your daughter after being baptized by him blessed my soul. It reminds me to "press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus," as Paul stated in Philippians 3:14. May God continue to bless and keep you and your family as well as Shea's family. His life is a testimony!
I am sorry for your family's loss, his family's loss, and your community's loss. Thank you for sharing about Shea's life. It is inspiring to me. May I finish well!