Thursday afternoon I attended my best friend's funeral. Pam died from breast cancer. She fought the good fight of faith for a year and a half. We grew up next door to each other and had been friends for over 50 years.
Whenever I hear "Good Vibrations" by the Beach Boys or "Jumpin Jack Flash" by the Rolling Stones, I am transported back to Pam's bedroom and she's teaching me how to do "The Monkey", "The Froog" (sp?) and "The Jerk".
In our younger days my sister, Mary, Pam, and I rode bikes all over the neighborhood, ate huge dill pickles at the ball park, made fudge that you either had to eat with a spoon or break apart with a hammer, bought Coke Icees at the corner 7-Eleven, caught fireflies in mayonnaise jars, played "Freeze", Tag, Hide-N-Seek. We rode together to dances, had sleep-overs, went shopping. We had terrible fights and then we'd cry and make-up.
When we grew older and had children we bowled on the same team, met once a week for lunch, and went to each other's Home Interior and Tupperware parties. When we all went to work, we were only able to meet for birthday parties and special occasions. But we would manage to get together for an occasional dinner.
These past few days I've been working through all my thoughts and feelings with the Lord. I know Pam is with Him and she is free from her suffering. I don't understand why He did not heal her here--there were times when everything went well--but I also know He is all wise, loving, and trustworthy. God's Word says He has numbered our days. They are written in His book. I know that day was written down before she was even born. I also know that she is healed now and living in the joy of His Presence. And when I think of that, I can smile.