October 30, 1993 – Saturday – 8:10 p.m.

Yesterday at school there was a memorial service for Mrs. Nance.  The whole school was almost in tears.  I was one of the students who was not.

Christi bought a new Broadway Musical Soundtrack and she recorded a copy for me.  It’s called Miss Saigon.

I thought Les Miserables was sad, and I thought Phantom of the Opera was sad, but Miss Saigon tops them both.

I’ve listened to it almost six times and I’ve gotten chocked up each time.  I balled like a baby the first three times.

I will cry when someone dies in a movie or a play, but I have never cried over a person who has died in real life.  Jonathan said it is because in real life we don’t accept it.

At the wake, or the viewing, whatever you call it, Mrs. Nance didn’t look like Mrs. Nance.  She just wasn’t there.  She wasn’t moving.  She wasn’t breathing.  It looked like someone else’s body.

Afterwards, we went to the lock-in for the youth group.  Kevin came back from college for it and to go to a cross country meet he and Jonathan were going to early Saturday morning.

Ryan and Christi weren’t at the lock-in, but mostly everyone else was.  We watched videos and talked and ate.

Amy and Cheryl told me that Christi wasn’t a part of the church or the youth group anymore.  I’m not sure what that is about.  I haven’t talked to Christi yet.  I have no idea what happened.

Ryan simply had to babysit. 

I slept almost two hours this morning while some people watched Return to Snowy River.  I had an eye appointment at 11:30 a.m. at Wal-Mart.  I went to that and then Marcus and I went to a place called Britt’s in Sanford and boy does that place have one fine waitress.

We ate there because I talked to Hank and Patti earlier and they said they were going to take Christi out to lunch there between her rehearsals for The Sound of Music.  They showed up, but without Christi.  She didn’t have enough time so they grabbed her a burger instead.  

I wanted to talk to her, but I couldn’t.

We came home after that and Henry felt the need to lecture us again.  This time is was on “conversing.”  Yeah, I don’t know either.

At the lock-in there were a lot of junior-high kids there.  Only about half of the original Endtime Warriors were there.  Cheryl said that everyone is leaving and new kids are coming in.  Cheryl is a freshman; she’ll be here for a while.

But she was right.  I received my acceptance letter from Lees-McRae today.  I will be there in less than ten months.

And in 20 days I will see Les Miserables.

October 28, 1993 – Thursday – 6:12 p.m.

Something happened yesterday.  You’re probably thinking something happened at church.  Well, you’re wrong, this happened at school.

On March 5, 1993, a Friday, I wrote something in my first Book of Days about a woman named Mrs. Nance.  She was my chemistry teacher then.  I would not have given her that letting, sharing the gospel with her, if I did not know she was dying of cancer.  No one ever knew if she was a Christian or not.  We all just knew she was a firm believer in evolution and not creation.  She’s had cancer for a long time and during my junior year she would be out for weeks at a time.  I liked it when that happened because we didn’t actually have to do chemistry when the substitute teacher was there.  I hated chemistry with a passion; it was so confusing.

Mrs. Nance often talked about dying.  She talked about how much money and pain it was costing her just to stay alive a little longer.  Once day a student asked her if she considered quitting and not spending the money to pay for all the chemotherapy and just let it all go.

She said, “No, I will do whatever it takes to stay here as long as I can.  I’m not ready to go yet and I will stay with my husband and my song as long as I can.”

Two weeks ago, Mrs. Nance left school.  The doctor had given her two weeks left to live.  She looked so pitiful; her skin was yellow.

We got word yesterday that she passed away.

Mrs. Nance is dead.

In Spanish, Mr. Benton read this poem:

Sunset and evening star,

      And one clear call for me!

And may there be no moaning of the bar,

      When I put out to sea,

   But such a tide as moving seems asleep,

      Too full for sound and foam,

When that which drew from out the boundless deep

      Turns again home.

   Twilight and evening bell,

      And after that the dark!

And may there be no sadness of farewell,

      When I embark;

   For tho’ from out our bourne of Time and Place

      The flood may bear me far,

I hope to see my Pilot face to face

      When I have crost the bar.

 

I fear this poem has a meaning I haven’t entirely grasped yet, but as I get closer to the lighthouse, I know I will.

September 21, 1993 – Tuesday – 8:40 p.m.

Let’s continue.

So, I fell asleep.  It was a good sleep, but then… Boom!  I heard a horrible noise and looked up and saw nothing but grass and a 55mph Speed Limit sign.  I tried to get control of the car and swerve back on the road.  I slowly put on the brakes and Marcus was just screaming my name.

The back wheel caught something or maybe an angel pushed the car, I don’t know, but it turned toward the road and sped across the highway toward the medium.  My front end jammed into the ditch at about 50 miles an hour.  The whole car fish-tailed around, turning 180 degrees and we stopped, facing the road we had just flew off.

I moaned.  I couldn’t move.  My entire body was in pain.

Turns out Marcus had fallen asleep too and neither one of us was thinking straight.  We tried to put the car in reverse and push it out.  We didn’t know he had two flat tires.

We waved some cars down and they called the ambulance.  Marcus hit his eye and his head was aching badly.  We went to the hospital in Sanford.  They checked us over pretty well.  Nothing major, but Marcus got a black eye and his sinuses are all messed up.

The car, on the other hand, may be totaled.  We won’t know until tomorrow.  My parents just got finished paying it off.  Henry bought it as a brand new car four years ago.  It is the only non-used car he has ever purchased.  He drove it everywhere and even said it was like a second home to him.  Last week my parents switched the insurance around so I could drive Henry’s car; it made their payment a little cheaper.  A week after I start driving his car, I wreck it.  Marcus has been out of school for two days because of his injury.

Needless to say, Henry is upset.  He won’t say it with his mouth but his actions toward me portray it.  It’s like he views me as something that gives him gray hair and makes him spend more money.

Mom on the other hand says the usual, “I’m just glad you are alive.  We could be buying a casket instead of a new car.”

I said, “Well, at least I would be free.”

This world is messed up.  Everything is done the wrong way.  Some people even do love the wrong way.  They fall in love with how a girl is and not who the girl is.  I might wreck a car and I might mess up my parent’s pocketbook, but I’m not going to mess up love.  I’m not going have a wrecked marriage like both Mom and Henry’s first marriage.

You know, something could have gone terribly wrong and I might not be writing this entry tonight.  Instead my Book of Days could have ended with me praying for God to do a work in me and then, BOOM!, it is over.  My journey would be complete.  My dream would come true.  I’d be with my Jesus.

But it didn’t and I’m still here.

I’m still alive.

Alive to write.  Alive to dream.  Alive to think about Ryan.  Alive to experience more pain and more misery.  Alive to grow.  Alive to learn.  Alive to wonder.  Alive to love.

Thank you Lord for letting me live.  I want so bad to be with you, but I know there is still more for me to do on this earth before I am truly free.

I want to live Lord.

I want to do your will.

I love you Jesus.