Today finds me sitting here enjoying the cool morning. It seems like Colorado has decided to give us some respite from the summer heat and chill down for a bit. I don't have a problem with that at all.
Let me tell you about Dustin, a friend of mine from back in Minnesota. I met Dustin through church, as he was in a Sunday school class for high schoolers that I taught for a few years. Never one to say a lot, he would sit and listen attentively to the lesson and only say something back if I asked him to. But like a lot of quiet people, there was a lot more to Dustin when you got to know him. He was smart and thoughtful, and empathized with others in a deep way. We struck up a friendship and I started calling him by a nickname "Dusty Britches," for no reason I can remember.
As Dusty got older, he came around church a little less frequently, as his work schedule didn't accommodate Sunday mornings that well. But his demeanor didn't change; still hopeful and bright, and making plans for his future after high school. He started attending college in a nearby town for a law enforcement degree.
I moved to Colorado July of last year, and lost touch with a lot of peripheral friends and acquaintances back home. A little while after I moved here I heard that Dustin had been diagnosed with lymphoma, and that he would be receiving treatment. And every now and again I would get an update on how he was doing, but that was about all I heard.
I decided it would be a neat idea to write Dustin a letter of some sort, since he was dealing with his illness. But I didn't know where to start. I didn't want to give him some sort of empty words, like I have heard people give their sick loved ones. There's not always a reason, it's just God's plan... Let go and let God. No, that doesn't cut it. But instead, a letter talking about the reality of suffering and evil, and the intervention of a real God into our fallen world. I just wanted him to know that I cared about him and that I hoped and prayed for his healing. So I put it on the "to do when I have the time" list. Soon I heard that Dustin's treatments were going very well and that it looked like he was on the upswing. It was good news, but the urgency of writing that letter diminished a bit, pushed to the "to do sometime, maybe" list.
It was a beautiful day in May when I got the call that Dustin passed away. After the shock wore down, my thoughts immediately went to that letter I had intended to write. Still unwritten, still unheard.
Time is a precious thing. They say to never leave anything unsaid. They say to take nothing for granted. They are right. Eventually we all run out of time, out of opportunities to show others that we care.
Here's to you, Dusty Britches (July 16, 1990 - May 12, 2010). I will not forget you.
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