Endings

Sticking a landing has never been my forte.

Initially, this afternoon's post was to have been about the conclusion of Vacation Bible School: the generosity of adults spending hours (often taking vacation time from work to do so) with children, their commitment to teaching right from wrong, their creativity and energy spent devising activities to keep young people occupied and focused on things truly important. The caliber of individuals who at the sacrifice of their own sense of "cool," don't befriend kids so much as guide them -- and provide a loving, consistent example.

Following a closing ceremonies ice cream party wherein each participating child's name was acknowledged, we piled together all our memories of the week -- both hand-crafted and bestowed in love -- clutched them close to our hearts, gave hugs and made promises to see each other again the next time around.

As the kids decompressed from the morning's extravaganza, an email I'd been dreading arrived: Berta's mom was gone.

My Berta is "that friend" from high school. The one that when yammering animatedly on the phone as teens, my father suggested simply opening the window and saving the AT&T bill. The one that when I hear "Born to Run" on the car radio, I still feel compelled to roll down the window and sing at the top of my lungs -- imagining her face in the passenger seat of my mind's eye. The one that even though she lives halfway across the country and we speak only a few times a year, when I pick up the phone and hear her voice, three decades of history are like a mere minute passed and we collapse into fits of giggles and kindred spirit.

As if raising a friend of that quality wasn't enough, Ms. Blaz was "that mom." The one you could count on to roll her eyes when you and your pal walked through the door with 7 scoops of ice cream each to watch "The Thorn Birds," but her twinkling grin was unrestrained. The one who was just as proud of you as your own parents with each and every achievement made. The one who never made you feel silly for your adolescent emotions and foibles, but possessed calm confidence, somehow knowing (even when you didn't) that you were going to turn out okay.

We all did turn out okay; and that's due in no small part to Mrs. Blaz. A woman generous with both home and time, spending hours with her daughter and friends. A woman committed to teaching right from wrong. A woman possessed of creativity and energy spent devising (and supervising) activities to keep young people occupied and focused on things truly important. She was the caliber of individual who at the sacrifice of her own sense of "cool," didn't befriend us kids so much as guide us -- providing a loving, consistent example.

She's left a legacy in a daughter, son-in-law and grandchildren who are incomparably dedicated to their friends, their family, their faith.

In my mind, I'm piling together all sorts of memories. In my heart, I hope Ms. Blaz knows I'm sending her hugs -- clutching her close to my heart, and making a promise we'll see each other again the next time around.