1 Samuel 18:1
“…..the soul of Jonathan was knit to the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul.”
It was a warm, Florida afternoon in November of 2005 when I received a phone call from Iowa and learned that my cousin Brandon had been killed in a car accident at the age of 27. Upon hearing the news, I crouched down on the floor of my Aunt Marcy’s living room and wept. He was the first one to die in our large family of cousins on my mother’s side, and he died way too young. Fond memories of the ornery but loving young boy running around my grandparents’ farm shooting us with toy guns and the handsome young man he grew up to be singing karaoke to the song Love Shack at our summer picnics by the pond flooded my mind. Nothing was ever going to be the same again.
At the time of Brandon’s death, we had been living in Florida for a few years, and I was terribly homesick. I hadn’t been back home since we moved, and I missed everything about Iowa. I missed my family and friends. I missed spring and the excitement of watching the flowers push up through the ground while the robins hopped around the yard and gathered material to build their nests and lay their eggs. I missed the Iowa State Fair in late summer with its farm animals, talent shows, and, of course, deep fat fried foods served on a stick. I missed watching the corn grow in the cornfields all summer long and then marveling at the beautiful colors when it turned bright gold in the fall. I missed walking through the woods without worrying about getting bit by a rattlesnake. I missed breathing in the cold air during the winter nights and the smell of smoke coming from the chimneys. Even though it was a tragedy that initiated my return, I was thrilled to be going home. Living by the beach in beautiful Naples was lovely and was a time in my life I would always treasure, but what living there had taught me was that I was a northern girl and my heart belonged to the Midwest with its rolling hills and friendly people.
Upon learning of Brandon’s death, my husband quickly bought an airplane ticket for me, and I boarded a plane headed for Des Moines the very next day. As I shimmied down the tight aisles with my carry-on suitcase in hand, I found my seat and realized that I was unfortunately in the middle. “Oh, well, you can’t have it all,” I thought. “At least I am going home.” I quickly stowed my luggage away in the overhead bin and sat down.
I noticed in the window seat next to me, was an attractive woman about my age with dark hair and brown eyes. I looked at her for a few seconds with the intention of saying hi, but she seemed to be engrossed in a book. Her eyes never left the page, so I decided to leave her alone. I quickly pulled out my book God’s Story by Anne Graham Lotz and began reading as well.
Almost immediately, I felt the Holy Spirit prompting me to strike up a conversation with her and tell her about Christ…….and I didn’t want to. I wasn’t very good at witnessing to others. It was uncomfortable, and I felt like I never made any sense and stumbled over my words. I ignored the nudging and continued reading my book……….but the nudging persisted. Still trying to find excuses to ignore the Holy Spirit, I noticed the book she was reading was a Christian book, so again I talked myself out of it and told myself, “She’s probably already a Christian anyway, so there’s no need to talk to her.” But the nudging continued on and on.
When we were getting close to Atlanta, tired of trying to fight off the Holy Spirit’s coaxing, I finally summed up the courage to say something. Upon hearing the captain’s voice that it was clear skies in Atlanta, I glanced out the window expecting to see beautiful blue skies but instead saw big puffy white clouds. I said to her, “Well, that’s sure a lot of clouds for clear skies.” She perked up right away and agreed, and we began visiting.
I learned her name was Melinda, and she lived not too far north of where I lived in Naples. She was a teacher at a Christian school and was headed home to Iowa as well for a funeral. I learned that she had grown up in Iowa like me and moved to Florida later in life. I was surprised to learn that we had attended the same church and knew some of the same people. She also shared that for a time she lived in Washington, Iowa while growing up. My husband had family there and she knew them as well. I was astonished at all of our commonalities. I looked around the plane, and thought, “Out of all the people on this plane that I could have been sitting by, and I just happened to be sitting by her, someone I have so much in common with.” There was an immediate bond between us. I then said to her, “God put us together.” And she agreed.
We visited the rest of the plane ride to Iowa, and by the time we got off the plane in
Des Moines, it was like we were old friends. As we rode the escalator down to baggage claim, Melinda’s sister was standing at the bottom waiting to greet her. As she watched Melinda and I make our way toward her, visiting and laughing all the way, a confused look spread across her face, a look that said, “Who is this woman, and how on earth could you have possibly known anyone on that plane?” Melinda then introduced me and we exchanged hellos. Before going our separate ways, we compared plane trips home. We both were disappointed to learn we were returning to Florida on the same day but at different times and on different planes, so we exchanged phone numbers, hugged, said goodbye, and promised each other we would stay in touch. I then set out to find my mother who was picking me up.
During my visit, I stayed in the country at my Aunt Frankie’s house. She and her husband Barney live a very simple lifestyle, and nothing had changed much since I had been gone. The hand-painted cows made from gas tanks and antique cream cans my Great Grandpa Dougherty fashioned together still stood in the front yard, the wall of mirrors that greeted you when you first walked through the door into the living room hadn’t changed, and the fish tank by the front door still remained. It was comforting to be back in my old country environment.
The funeral was at a small country church on a gravel road and was officiated by a pastor who had been associated with our family for many years. The church was so full that the sanctuary couldn’t hold everyone, and some people had to stay in the basement during the service. I watched in sadness as Brandon’s mom struggled to walk down the aisle and take her seat at the front of the church. She understandably was unable to contain her grief and wept loudly. Burying a young person is not the natural order of life and leaves a person with many unanswered questions.
After the funeral service, we pulled into the country cemetery for the graveside service and parked right behind a big pickup truck. It was snowing heavily, and the snowflakes were unusually big and beautiful. I hadn’t seen snow in a few years and was excited that during this return trip home, God blessed me with snow. As we were undoing our seat belts, I watched as a cute, small-framed woman jumped down out of the truck in front of us bundled up in a Carhartt coat. A smile broke out across my face. Yes, I was definitely back in Iowa. You would never see a wealthy Naples woman in a Carhartt coat.
The visit went too fast, and early the next day, my mom dropped me off at the airport for my return flight home. As I was checking in, I learned that the plane I was booked on had mechanical difficulty and I was being moved to another plane which left later that morning. I then had quite a bit of time to kill, so I purchased a coffee, yogurt, and magazine and proceeded to my gate to wait. As I was reading my magazine, I happened to look up and saw Melinda walking toward me with a big smile on her face. I had been moved to her plane. We rode all the way back to Florida together. When we arrived at Ft Myers airport, both of our families were waiting for us, and everyone met each other. And we have been friends ever since.
During that airplane flight to Iowa, I thought God was nudging me to share about Christ with the woman seated next to me. Sometimes my simple mind thinks that God just wants me working, working, working for Him. But that wasn’t God’s intention at all. God was nudging me because He just simply wanted me to have a friend, and if I hadn’t obeyed that day, I would have missed out on an incredible, lifelong friendship with a woman who has brought so much blessing, encouragement, and wisdom into my life. The nudge from God that day reaffirmed to me that it is always wisest to obey the Lord, especially when it is something you really don’t want to do because you never know what the Lord has planned.
Melinda and I have now been friends for 14 years. Our friendship has weathered moves that separated us by hundreds of miles, parenting challenges, chronically ill children, busy lives, and both of us losing our contacts in our phones at the same time which rendered us unable to contact each other for months. The friendship we share may seem kind of strange to people and some may wonder how two strangers who meet on a plane can have an immediate bond like this. But the answer is simple. It’s Jesus. Because of our common bond in Jesus and our mutual love for Him, He is the thread that knits our souls together.