The Compass.

This fall I was reading a friend's blog and she was discussing in vulnerability how in dealing with the terminal illness of her long time beloved friend she was dealing with feelings of loneliness. She quotes another mutual friend in regards to the meaning of Natalie's life:

"My heart is a compass and Natalie is my magnetic north. She steadfastly points in the right direction; she gives bearing when the sky is too dark to see stars. Without her, I feel unmoored; adrift, heartbroken and alone."

I was so connected to this, that I wrote her an email saying that I appreciated her thoughts on the blog and the one above just really resonated with me. Her response was welcomed and in it she says, "I loved that idea of magnetic north; it got me thinking. The actual magnetic north in the western hemisphere is located in the Hudson Bay in northern Canada. Yet for most of the hemisphere, when a compass points north it points right through the Hudson Bay and on to the north pole. I loved that imagery--I think of Christ as my north pole, and Natalie as my magnetic north: when I seek her advice, she steadfastly points me to Christ."

This email conversation continued and I was really moved by the way my friend shared about Natalie. Dealing with cancer again, she opted against Chemo. She wasn't in any pain, and she was just very tired. My friend explains that a post Natalie world would be so incredibly frightening.

The other day I was on Facebook while I was hanging out running errands. I saw on my news feed that Natalie had passed away. Without thinking or hesitating I switched to email and wrote a quick email to my friend. I told her that I was praying for her heart and celebrating a life lived in Grace and Love that impacted hers for 14 years. I also wrote, "The compass rests and she is with Jesus".

I have not been able to get this friend, her loss, or the incredible legacy I have only gotten to hear such a small amount of, out of my head. For two days its all I can think about, and so I have been praying fiercely for peace and comfort.

In December I was pretty friendship-lost with the move of Andrew Piper to the West. I thought often leading up to Christmas how much of our friendship pointed me to Christ. (This could also be because he is over a foot taller then me, that I am always looking up at his face... and also thinking about it- his complete North Face wardrobe... interesting) How lucky I was that I had him in my life and how much I have grown because of him. I decided to give him a brass compass beautifully situated in a wooden box. On the outside the longitude and latitude coordinates of the North Pole were engraved. I wrote a card which explained a little bit about where the idea came from, and I wrapped it up neatly in Christmas paper. He opened it, and in a classic exchange between us, our eyes met and there was silent moment of gratitude.

It's been a dizzying year. It began shooting my first Wedding for Macy and Peder, an early morning 3am New Years phone call, and then a road trip to Florida. Since then I think I've been playing catch up to my heart and I have lost a lot of direction and footing. The 'waiting' was brutal, and in the end what I was waiting for came, and now I sit... and I think... and I process...

And I read the news that a beloved friend has lost their battle with cancer. I pray for the girl she leaves behind who in an email wrote back to mine about her loss "Saturday, as I woke up, I realized I was seeing the very first sunrise in my life that I saw and Natalie didn't. This will all take too much learning"

If there is something tangible that could be offered, purchased, or traded I would gladly take it delicately in my hands, place it in a beautifully fashioned wooden box, wrap it up with a bow and hand it to my grieving friend. Having dealt with loss, and even still processing much of what is learned in the darkness, I know that words comfort less then we would like... but the fact that we are on this journey and we are not alone sometimes speaks more eloquently in the silence of a loved one, and their hand being offered to closely grasp ours then any Hallmark card or conversation could say.

To my friend whom has has lost someone so dear. You are not alone, though you may feel it. Though your grief is like an ocean- it will ebb and flow, your compass I know, still would want nothing more then in her death to direct you in the way of Christ much like her life.

For the past few days I have thought about my friend, Natalie, and my compass. I am thankful that on this night I can pray with sincerity and thanksgiving that the Lord has given me several gifts of friendship and people in my life. I have seen their love this summer in abundance and I am thankful that I can reciprocate so much of their example now that I have settled storms and won some wars.

However, there remains still taller then me by a mile one person in particular. I know that my gift to him this Christmas is still true. I know that even though we have hurt and pushed each other in recent months that because of that relationship and friendship I have been able to experience Christ in an authentic and tender way... we change and we grow and we talk and we laugh. I know in my heart, deeply hidden and protected is a silent understanding- the point. The purpose. The journey. To push each other towards the truth, the love, and the perfect purpose found in Jesus Christ. Sometimes in silence, sometimes at an appointed time to pray, sometimes in phone conversations, and sometimes in speaking hard truths in love.

I am made more thankful for his presence in the wake of someone's loss.

Our lives intersect. Our relationships parallel. Our God loves us and reminds us in the testimonies of others that He is the only way, the only true North. I am thankful for reading a blog entry in December which began this entire dialogue, and I am thankful for knowing the meaning behind a story because I chose to write and connect.

Who is your compass?

Who waits, prays and petitions, and loves you?

Who in hurts, joys, struggles, and triumphs deflects attention from themselves so that you can see the glory and magnitude of Christ?

Do they know it?

China. Chesapeake. (Oregon). The Moon.

"I ask of you to bring me home,
For all the years that I may roam.
You showed me love through all my faults"