Remembering Jenny

Writing about being a thinker in my previous post (titled "Current Reads") reminded me of a very special friend of mine who taught me so much about what it means to be free -- free to be and enjoy who God created me to be. My friend's name is Jenny. I knew Jenny from church. About six years ago, when my oldest son was only two, Jenny and I started getting to know each other better. Jenny was ten years older than I was, and a mother of two older children, and I was longing to hang out with somebody -- anybody -- willing to listen, especially to my struggles as a new mother and other spiritual challenges I was facing. I was desperately searching for an older and wiser woman (although Jenny wasn't that much older) who was willing to be my friend, with secret hopes that that woman would in some small way help me navigate through the waters of the journey I was on. Jenny often came to mind, so one day, I casually invited Jenny to meet over coffee.

At that point, Jenny and I were more than mere acquaintances. At key times in my life, or whenever I was at my lowest or in need of someone to pray for me, Jenny was often there with an encouraging word or prayer, be it at church or at a women's retreat. Although, before we went out for coffee, I had never really hung out with her one-on-one.

Well, that first get-together turned out to be a rich time -- almost three hours of fellowship! Jenny immediately made me feel at ease and as the evening wore on, we instantly bonded. Jenny not only heard me, but saw right through me, read my mail, and spoke to just about every hope, dream and ache I had in my heart. She made me feel extra special both to her, and to the Lord. It was more than I could have asked for. I was blessed beyond words. Jenny suggested afterward that we get together for dinner or coffee regularly -- one evening a month, and thus she became one of my dearest mentors and friend. Jenny and I faithfully met one evening each month for almost four years.

As I got to know Jenny better, I was delightfully pleased to find out just how much we had in common. She often told me how I was so much like her. To me, that was a pretty high compliment! Because we were wired the same way in many areas, our similarities were bonuses that made our relationship flow. We even had the same type of dreams (sleep dreams, that is!) -- "007 dreams," we called them -- which subconsciously spoke of our underlying sense of adventure! Hilarious! We also both loved to write, to pray and to read.

The years of meeting regularly with Jenny were some of the most life-changing and foundational years I had since I began walking with the Lord at age 13. Jenny was a walking testimony of God's grace in every way, and she never failed to impart that grace to me.

She was always very insightful, with an amazing sense of where I was at in life, and she had the ability both to address difficult issues of my heart and to draw out the best in me. She saw me for who I really was, and she understood me. She could often guess and give words to what I was thinking, and could even finish my sentences for me (although she never really did that, as Jenny was always a great listener). I shared with her my deepest thoughts and heart struggles. Jenny loved me. Unconditionally. At the end of every meeting with her, I left overwhelmed by the amazing love that God had for me, and by God's abounding grace in her life and in mine.

Jenny was able to accurately define and characterize me with her words. She told me who I was. She was the first person to tell me that I was a thinker. I always knew that, but I never openly acknowledged it, even to myself, because I always thought that being a thinker was a not-so-cool thing to be. In the world around me it seemed that thinkers were almost always cast in a less than positive light, often bearing the brunt of popular humor, even of Christian humor; being carefree often seemed not only favored but even glorified."Lighten up" or "don't be so serious" is what I often heard. But Jenny taught me that the contemplative life was a good life. She even said she enjoyed that about me. As I began to celebrate that about myself, life became more thrilling and satisfying. Her acceptance of me washed over me. Being a very thoughtful person herself, the depth of her wells were very deep indeed, the wells of which I was so blessed to have been able to drink.

Out of the depth of who she was, Jenny loved to write. She always encouraged me to do the same. Sometimes, she would assign "homework" to me, and have me do my own personal Bible studies, encouraging me to write a paper about what I was learning. I'd give her a copy of what I wrote, and we'd go over it together. When she took a writing class, we loved to brainstorm ideas and talk about what she was writing. She began writing a book about the story of her life, and when she completed her first draft, she handed me a bound copy both as a keepsake and for another set of eyes to edit. I was once again overwhelmed, humbled and very blessed. Her personal story was one of hope, triumph and the marvelous kindness and redemptive power of Christ.

Jenny not only helped me understand who I am; she helped me to be who I am. She showed me how to embrace what God has given me -- my personality, my strengths and my weaknesses, my relationships, and all the different aspects of my life that God has blessed me with. As she shared with me her own struggles, she gave me the courage to face my fears, to get up and keep getting up, and keep getting up, and keep getting up, and keep getting up, no matter how many times I failed. She taught me to forgive myself -- to extend grace to myself --whenever I failed. She showed me how to forgive and extend grace to others.

She praised my tenacity and called me a tiger. She prayed fortitude ("a brick wall" is what she called it) into my soul. She cheered me on to keep pressing forward, and assured me that however slowly it would seem to come, in the midst of my personal battles, victory would indeed become my familiar friend, as I read the Word, believed what it said, lived it, stayed close to and trusted my Heavenly Father. Jenny had big visions of what God could and would do in and through my life, and never hesitated to share them with me.

Jenny also helped me become the wife and mother I am today. In one sense, it wasn't too difficult to learn from her. All I had to do was watch her, listen and follow. She taught me both to love and serve my family, spiritually and practically, and she herself lived what she taught. Her life was an open book. She loved her husband, she loved her children, and she believed the best in each of them. Most of all, she prayed for them. Faith was not a byword for her. Rather, it was a reality, quietly yet unashamedly displayed and lived out in and through her everyday relationships. Today, I have a deeper, richer experience with my own family in part because of the love, grace, wisdom and faith that Jenny imparted. I'll never forget the encouraging words she told me when I shared my wonderful news that I was pregnant with my fourth child. I could hear the smile on her face as she told me over the phone, "Motherhood suits you, Daisy!" Because of her investment into my life, I am a better wife and mother today.

Jenny was one who practiced the presence of God. She showed me how to do the same. She taught me and was a model of how to listen to the ever-present voice of the Holy Spirit, and she encouraged me to "tune into the right frequency" so that I could hear His voice that is always speaking to me. From Jenny I learned how to stay in fellowship with the Lord -- abide in the vine -- "through the changing landscape of [my] life," when the still waters and green pastures are not that quiet with many little ones in tow. She reminded me of how the book of Isaiah says that God gently leads those that are with young, and she spoke often of God's gentleness and how God "prepares a table before me in the presence of mine enemies."

Jenny was tenacious, too, and feisty, yet with grace, when she needed to be. She was authentic, and always into reality; she knew how to call a spade a spade. When she had something difficult she needed to say to me, it was somehow easier to hear it coming from her, because I knew -- and felt -- that she was on my side.

I loved Jenny with all my heart, and I still do. But for now, that love aches, because she is no longer physically with us. Early in 2006, Jenny was diagnosed with leukemia. To say that the news was shocking is an understatement for me. We had our picture taken together with my husband and some friends at church on New Year's Day of 2006, and she looked as healthy and as beautiful as ever. She had also just given me a card saying she was looking forward to spending more time with me in the upcoming year. The end came too soon for everyone, however, and in September of the same year Jenny passed away, not from the leukemia itself, for she was then in remission, but due to complications that arose out of her compromised immune system resulting from her bone marrow transplant.

It's amazing how, even in the midst of her own suffering, Jenny still thought of others more than herself. During her stay at the hospital for her first round of chemo, I was able to call Jenny and talk to her briefly over the phone. Whenever we spoke, I tried my best to hold my emotions in check. I wanted to be a blessing and encouragement to her, but each time, I was the one who ended up encouraged and blessed! She was such a blessing during her entire ordeal with cancer, and was even able to blog about her experiences here: http://xanga.com/jdaily

One afternoon, I received a call on my cell phone. I was shocked to hear Jenny's voice on the other line, calling me from the hospital! "Jenny!" I said. "What are you doing calling me? I'm supposed to be calling you!" I could "hear" her smiling on the other end of the phone. (She always seemed to be smiling!) She called to ask me a favor; she wanted to know if I could, when she came home from the hospital following her first successful round of chemo, make her her favorite Filipino dish, Chicken Adobo. I was delighted! Of course I would! It was an honor and privilege to even be asked!!

A couple of nights later, my parents came over to take care of my three young children (I was in the last trimester of my fourth pregnancy), and I scrambled around to prepare the best Chicken Adobo I had ever made. As I brought it over to her home, I was a little nervous, not knowing how I would react when I saw her. I shouldn't have had any concern, for as she opened the door, I was taken aback by Jenny's beauty and the brightness of her countenance! She had lovely scarf around her head, light makeup, and she was oh, so beautiful! Not only that, she simply exuded the fragrance of the aroma of Christ, and the joy of the Lord. After all she had been through, Jenny was radiant. It was simply indescribable.

And that night, it was a bonus treat for me, for she was alone and all was quiet in her household, and as I brought her dinner in and served her (she was still weak from her chemo), she invited me to sit and eat with her. We shared a meal, just like old times. We talked very deeply of the things of God, like we always used to do, and enjoyed each other's company. We had a lot of laughs, too. There was not even any room for tears. Just joy. The simple joy of fellowshipping together and rejoicing in what God was accomplishing in our midst. Throughout the years, I had never failed to tell Jenny how much she meant to me, and I tried to make sure we always kept in touch whether through a card, phone call, or hug at church, even after we stopped getting together regularly because of the busyness of our lives. I expressed my appreciation so much, at the risk of sounding like a cliche, that I was afraid my compliments would start sounding dull and old. Thus I would always preface my compliments by telling Jenny that I hope she'd never tire of hearing how grateful I was for her, because I always meant what I said. That evening, God gave me a special gift, because He gave me another chance to express to Jenny how much I loved and how deeply I appreciated her. God gave me an extra special gift that night because I had time alone with Jenny, undistracted, rich (as usual) and full of joy. I did not know then that that was the last meal Jenny and I were going to share together, but God knew, and in his goodness He gave that moment just for me.

Jenny's family eventually was able to find a bone marrow donor, and in July of 2006, she underwent her bone marrow transplant. I'm so grateful that before that, Jenny was able to meet my newest little baby soon after he was born. When my baby was hospitalized at two weeks old for severe anemia and hemolytic disease of the newborn (HDN), requiring a full blood transfusion, faithful as always, Jenny was there for me in faith, giving me her full attention and encouraging me over the phone, as if she was not in the middle of a crisis of her own.

Despite everyone's prayers of faith for Jenny's complete recovery, it was not meant to be. The complications arising from her bone marrow transplant eventually took a toll on her body. When I visited her in her tiny hospital room, the week before she was to pass away, I had my last moments ever alone with her, a stark contrast from the joyful time we last had together over Chicken Adobo. I was almost numb as I looked for my Jenny in the body that lay in that hospital bed. She was unconscious, and was still breathing, albeit with the help of a machine, and I couldn't recognize any part of her. I couldn't even cry. I started to talk to her, just like I would any other time, but it felt awkward at first. But then I held her hand, and that's when the recognition came for me. It was a personal, moving moment for me. I had found her! So grateful to have found her. Yes, it was Jenny. Those were her hands; I recognized those hands. So many times in the past, those hands took hold of my hands as Jenny prayed for me. She always prayed for me at the end of our every meeting. And as I held her hands in mine and talked to and prayed for Jenny in that hospital room, I remembered her hands, those familiar, caring hands, and they brought relief and comfort to me. God is so good. Even in her final days, God's peace enveloped her like a blanket. No words could explain it. Again, God gave me another special gift of time with Jenny.

Shortly thereafter, Jenny went on to be with the Lord. In her life and in her death, Jenny walked with dignity. Those where my pastor's words at her memorial service. Even at the end, Jenny still gave of herself, as she always had given to her family, to me, to countless others I don't even know. I'm forever grateful for all that God allowed her to be to me personally -- mentor, friend, faithful sister-in -Christ. I'm grateful for all that God allowed me to be for her, small that it may have been in comparison to what she gave to me. I'm thankful that, in God's grace, I could say that in this one relationship, I have no regrets. I loved Jenny with all my heart, and I always will.

I think of Jenny often, over and over and over again. I'm sad that I can't call her to talk about the latest churnings, yearnings and joyful discoveries of my heart like I used to. I know what I experience is but a microcosm of what those that are closest to her have gone through and are still going through. I am thankful that I get to continue to pray for those who were most precious to her -- her family. I'm a humble witness of God's sovereign hand on each of their lives -- Jenny's husband, daughter and son. They are all beautiful, just as beautiful as Jenny's faith for them. Her love watered their lives, and the lives of so many. Her life touched hundreds, and its ripple effects will no doubt be felt through many generations. How is it that I got to be one of those graced by her precious life? Jenny was one of God's love notes to me. I miss her terribly, but I know she's in a better place.

Life goes on, but because of all that Jenny was, life will never be the same. I will always remember the spiritual legacy she left with me, the nuggets and deposits she poured into my life; I desire to live the way she taught those who knew her to live -- to the fullest and with abandonment into the arms of the One who loved and knew her most.