Bee

I first met you in July 2007.  You approached me in the Sunday service, asking if I was with anyone.  I know now that you meant, if I was with any caregroup, if someone was taking care of me.  Despite my unfriendly manner, you decided to reach out.

We met again in August, during a luncheon prepared by Kuya Levi.  I thought you were going to sell me insurance or something like that.  You shared with me how you sold your car so that you can help the church buy the auditorium.  It was National Day, and you were going out for coffee and watch fireworks that night.

I started going to caregroups, and you were always there.  I found out later that there was a recent restructure, and the people were only just getting used to you back then.  They warned each other when you were coming; people were literally anxious when you were there, because they thought you were so strict, so exacting.  But I never was.  I knew you, I could relate to you on that level.  You just wanted every thing to go well.  You wanted everything to be excellent.

We spent most of 2008 together.  It’s all over my calendar.  Early morning, you would come to my place, where I used to live alone, and you went jogging with me.  Or we played badminton.  Or we had lunch.  You spent time with me, in your own way, trying to make friends with someone who had always pushed people away.  But you didn’t give up.

There was always some project you had me working on, some logo that needed to be designed, some program or trip that needed to be planned.  You said you prayed to God for someone to come into the church to do these things, and then I came along.  You had faith in me, that I could do these things, and because you entrusted them to me, I was enabled.  I learned what I didn’t know, and you guided me through the rest.

You pushed me to work in ministry, and you introduced me to people, other leaders who would guide me.  You had a hand in my relationships and even though we didn’t talk much about it, I modeled the way you hardened your heart, and I admired you for it greatly.

Eventually you let me go to a different group, a different subdistrict, and I was hurt by it, but I took the queue from you, and I didn’t cry.  By then I had learned from you to not let these things get to me.

Never mind.

Through your leadership, I learned that the church comes first, in terms of schedule priority.  That money should not get in the way of the work of the Kingdom.  That sometimes what is needed is a firm hand or a stern word, but that it is completely acceptable and sometimes necessary.

Through your character, I learned that I am the way that God made me to be, and that whatever is in me can be used for His glory.  Because you were quiet, I learned to listen.  Because you were intentional, I learned to obey.

You were not the easiest person to get along with, and I thank you for that, found myself relating to you because of that.

Because of you, I am a better person, a better Christian, a better leader, a better servant.

I hope you don’t mind that I’m crying now.  Cause we don’t cry, right?  That was one thing that we never did together.

God I miss you.