Christmas Cookies in October

Funny what it takes to get a girl to start writing again.
It's been awhile.
And yet, this seems like where I belong.

I lost a friend this week.
He started as a teacher,
A peer support mentor.
Then a parent of the kids I babysat,
and the one whom I spent lots of time making small talk with
on rides to and from his house to watch them.
Then he was a colleague,
and a friend.

I didn't really know how it was going to hit me
if it came to this.
I knew he was a fighter,
and he was determined,
and the doctor's reports always seemed good.

But the last few days have left me fairly unmotivated to do much.
I keep rethinking conversations and memories.
Not the memories you think you'll have.
But funny ones.
Like me being too tired to know what he asked me on the way home from a babysitting job and making something up, only to have him respond with, "You don't know?" to a question that should have been as simple as what my name was.
Or making cookies with his girls and having him comment on the "killer icing" - pretty sure because it was crazy sweet, and not crazy good.

Other memories, too.
Like being told that I didn't have to ask for his approval so often on a project I worked on for him  because he trusted me.
Having supper together when he came to Winnipeg for workshops
and getting to connect again.

He was a listener.
A question asker.
He had a dry, witty sense of humour.
The video about snow-brushing the wrong car? I saw that in one of his workshops.
He was kind. Always welcoming and caring.
Never saying something to put someone else down.
He had a gentle laugh.
And an incredible ability to see the world through the lens of Scripture.
The most abstract concept -
and he'd be able to find a Biblical viewpoint - or at least ask the right questions.

I found myself baking Christmas cut-out cookies today.
In October.
In the midst of days where I've felt tired and overwhelmed.
And certainly not something I would want to try with my 2 year old.
But for some reason today, I made a double batch.
I had both girls help.
Like I used to do with his girls.
We didn't get past the baking to the decorating.
Cutting out was enough of a challenge - as I remember it being when his girls were small.
There was no "killer icing".
But it brought me to tears.
And I was suddenly playing memory after memory over in my head.
Regretting not having done more or checking in more often.
Remembering how humble and gracious he was with his girls.
And knowing how much they're going to miss him.
How much they already do.
And just feeling sad.
Even though I know his struggle is over.
His days of feeling like less than he was and could be are finished.
He is whole, and cancer free.

The restoration he's been dreaming about -
doing speed builds and brainstorming about competing stories -
finally coming to the glory of how God intended and intends for it to be;
Home and whole
and full of delight.

He's missed.