Miss ya, Jan

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There are a handful of conversations with my sister that I'll never forget.

While her cancer took her body down from 2000 to now, I witnessed the opposite in her spirit: a beautiful transformation, a great growth. I'd known the phrase "the God of Abraham" all my life. Because of the work of God that I saw her life in these last years, this phrase because rich in meaning to me: "the God of Jan." I wanted what I saw in her life. I want what I saw in her life. These were deeply personal things for me, not something I could easily express to her. But I was able to a couple of times in the last couple of years. I won't forget this phrase.

While awaiting a surgery, she called family members from the hospital. It was hard for me to speak up in a time that might turn out to be my last conversation with her yet easy for me to choose the words that were of great significance to me: "Jan, I'm so proud of you." And I heard the controlled tears in her pointed response, "I'm so proud of you, too." I won't forget that. I'll see you again," I said. I could hear her smile in her response: "Yes, I'll see you again."

A few weeks ago, Jan's husband called Mom from the hospital. Jan was alert, and it was an opportunity for Jan and Mom to connect. Mom called me in and handed the phone over to me. To my surprise, I heard Jan's cheerful voice. What would I talk about in this precious yet awkward opportunity? Looking out the window, I saw the beautiful flowers in Mom's garden and recalled Jan's enjoyment of beautiful gardens. I described to her the dark blue lobelia under the lavender cosmos. I heard sounds of satisfaction. I "complained" about Mom not letting me move the orange tiger lilies out of the section of garden that was otherwise pinks, lavenders and blue. Her response was a sort of chuckle. I couldn't really understand what she said after that. I told her that I loved her and that I knew she loved me.

Today, she's free. That's one of several things that I envy about her.

When I try some new combination of herbs and spices and hit on a winner, I'll hurt that I can't share my experience with her, the gourmet cook in our family. When I learn something new about flowers or groom the garden into a cluttered palette of colors, I'll hurt that I can't share those details with her, one who worked her garden with her husband as often as possible. I'll miss that I can't talk with her when I'm in a tough spot, I'll miss the embrace of her words of kindness, her words of strength when life brought challenges, her words of wisdom that might include rebuke, her prayers for my well-being.

Oh to be able to share my new creations, my music, my art with her, one who always encouraged me on, one who always exuded life, even when I called at some crazy late hour when I "decided" that her body probably wasn't letting her sleep anyway. Her longings for what I longed for will echo in my soul.

I only got to watch remotely as the God of Jan loved those who were around her... fellow chemo patients poured out their hearts, nurses poured out their hearts, families from church poured out their hearts to this one who had grown in compassion and insight for the great good of so many others.

With great honor I will be known as "Jan's brother." Jan, I'm so proud of you.