Yesterday was the day we memorialized Shannon. Perhaps close to 300 people attended an 80 minute midmorning service at Maranatha Chapel, about two miles from our home. Then a smaller group gathered at the Barrow home in Poway later in the afternoon for an informal celebration and feast.

You may have come to know me as a wordy person. Possibly even descriptive. But, I don’t have the language to adequately convey the meaning of the day. However, I’m going to try. In many ways, I expected to hear what I heard, and there’s a reason for that. But, I was deeply moved by how every element of that “celebration of life” was interwoven so perfectly. And, every one of those elements pointed to and expressed exactly the same thing.

I have written about Shannon in the recent past. What is remarkable is that, having known her only just over two years, she touched me in exactly the same way she touched her husband, daughters, and countless friends who have known her for many decades.

One poignant moment came midway through when her best friend from childhood and all the way up to the present began her talk. She started by saying she was Shannon’s best friend. But, then she looked out over everyone else and said, “And, I know each of you would say, No, I was Shannon’s best friend!” And, she was right. How remarkable is that?! How is that possible? This is not some high school BFF talk, this was actually really true.

In the past month or so, I’ve heard story after story about how Shannon deeply touched the lives of so many people. About how she tirelessly gave of herself to everyone. And this giving was done not through duty, but through honest to goodness joy and love. I heard time and time again that whoever she was with at the moment, however briefly, was given her full attention and care. She was simply present to everyone.

In recent years, I have learned that I have many best friends. These are the men and women who know me deeply and love me fully. These are the men and women who, when I’m with them, I would rather be nowhere else. We can share and rely, be vulnerable and supportive, honest and transparent. These things are love.

When I got sick last January, Shannon let me know she would wake in the middle of the night to pray for me. I know she had many, many people she prayed for. She was a prayer warrior and I know she loved me. Magnify that by hundreds and over decades and decades. She not only prayed, she infused people with her laughter and full personality. She took charge, gathering everyone around her, to pull them into a loving embrace.

Her four beautiful daughters spoke individually, but formed as a group in front of the microphone. They were followed by her husband, Jim. All of them said the same thing. Actually, they shared many different remembrances and stories, amidst their laughter and tears, but they all said the same thing.

I will come back to that in a moment.

I’m not sure if I mentioned this thought in a prior post. I probably did but I don’t want to scroll around looking for it. If I didn’t, I certainly should have. Anyway, as it’s relevant here, I’ll say it again.

We have a limited time in this life. We get caught up in all sorts of stuff. Some of it good, some of it not so good. In the end, what is left? What has been the meaning of this brief life? What legacy do we leave? How would we wish to be remembered?

Probably, in our thirties and forties, we don’t think about this much. Then, maybe in our fifties as we look behind at youth and ahead to old age, we begin to wonder. Not everyone is the same. Maybe some have thought about this their whole lives and others don’t think about it until much later or not at all. But, I suspect, most eventually get there.

How would we like the script to read? What would be its themes?

Now, some lives barely had a chance. Some have been wrought with brokenness, tragedy, illness and so on at various stages. Some people would think about past behaviors and looking back say, “please do not play that part of the tape.” Those who have never felt guilt or shame are either dishonest or don’t have a heart in the first place. No life is perfect. No one is without broken places. To deny that is to not have lived, which requires suffering and failure.

Yes, none is perfect. But, with what we do have, how would we like the script to read?

I’m certain that Shannon and her family did not in the least bit expect her script to be read so soon. She was 56.  In great health and shape. Vibrant and alive. A force of nature. Then, the terrible disease struck and, hard as she battled in those three weeks or so, it overcame her body and took her away from all of us way too soon.

But, it never took her spirit and it never took the spirit of her family and friends.

And that is the central theme of Shannon’s script. She lived into the spirit of her calling. Her central calling. Not the secondary callings of wife, mother, dear friend, helpmate. She lived into the spirit of her central calling.

This is what everyone said. This is how they explained her life and gave shape to the stories. No one minced words. No one touched on the edges of the truth. Every single one went to the heart of who Shannon was and what her life meant.

Not a person in that audience was left with a doubt about the meaning of her life.

And, honestly, I cannot imagine something finer.

At the heart of her being, Shannon loved God. She loved God more than her husband and four daughters, whom, I suspect, she loved as completely as any of us is able. She loved God exhaustively. How does one do that? Well, just look at Shannon. She breathed God, whether she was speaking about him or not. Sure, she had some edges to her. She was self-deprecating and shared her struggles. She had her faith challenged by some pretty big stresses. But, she didn’t waver. She persisted in loving God. And, to be honest, this was not some abstract form of spirit god. This was God as personified in Jesus. She loved Jesus. If that offends or puts off others, I’m sorry but that’s the truth and it was beautiful. Shannon showed us all how to love Jesus by the way she lived her life. This is not a Sunday Jesus. This is not a moral teacher Jesus. This is not a wooden figure hanging in a sanctuary or church. This is not a soft, airbrushed Jesus or a Jesus who some believe is conjured up as some sort of wish fulfillment.

No, this is the creative and loving force of all of reality that, when fully embraced and surrendered into, gushes into every nook and cranny. It brings peace and joy and allows us to transit through sorrow with hearts full of hope.

I know because I’ve experienced it. It took me to my knees and continues to do so daily. It lifts me up in ways that are really impossible to describe.

This is where everything pointed in the celebrations yesterday. The script of Shannon’s life is centered on her relationship with Jesus and how that relationship infused every other relationship and it’s the reason hundreds gathered in love yesterday and heard the most beautiful words spoken about someone recently deceased.

Some may wonder if all of this stuff about Jesus is really true. Some may wonder if this stuff about life after death is really true. It’s only natural to wonder.

I wondered until I was 51. I no longer wonder. And, I’m a very rational and scientific guy.

Shannon Barrow AIJ. Alive in Joy. Alive in Jesus.  This is not RIP. This is no Rest in Peace. We do not lie down in death, merely released from any pain and suffering we’ve experienced. We do not enter into a passive state. We do not float around as some disembodied spirit. Yes, there is peace and rest but that’s just a part of the picture. More so, we get to be lifted up to the most wonderful eternity. It will be a feast. All we have to do is accept it as reality and it is ours. Is this what we want? Is this the script we are drawn to? I say time and again, I could not believe until I did. Then everything changed. The scales fell away. It was like all of the tumblers in the lock finally clicked fully and the door burst open. Colors deepened. Silence spoke. If I looked backward through that door that was slowly closing, I knew there was no going back and no wanting to go back.

I spoke with a man late yesterday. We had met a few times some years ago but had never really had a conversation. We found ourselves alone at a backyard table in the midst of the gathering at the Barrow home. Some two hours later, maybe more, our conversation wound down. It turns out we had had nearly identical experiences of God. His cathartic moment was thirty years ago. Mine was eleven. He’s about 6’7” and 260. A big guy. An accomplished civil engineer. I can’t count the times he had tears rolling down his face. From his experiences over the past thirty years. I’ve never met anyone who described the shower of grace exactly like I have. He said he was the Prodigal. I said, “no, I am.” We laughed. Fist bumped. He said he has a heart condition. I said I have a bad carotid. He said he’s not worried about tomorrow. I said neither am I. I observed that the love of God, through Shannon, brought us together.

Shannon’s husband, Jim, I’m told, has a lifelong faith referred to by many as deep and solid. Shannon called him her rock. He told a friend the other day, that this experience has only deepened his faith. He does not doubt, nor do her daughters and countless friends, including Diane and me, that we will be joined together again … in a blink of an eye.

As we were about to leave, after about ten hours of devoting our hearts to Shannon and all she meant, I heard that my name was displayed in the Barrow home. I heard that she had a blackboard that listed the people she was praying for and that my name was on it. I saw it and wept. Dear Shannon had me at the top. In her handwriting.  For now. As we are all at the top. As Jesus has each of us at the top.  Here it is.

Good-bye for now, dear Sister. Hold for us a place at the table. Can’t wait to see your smile and hear your laughter. Then, the real joy begins.

Dear Lord, thank you for Shannon and thank you for her family and friends who gathered yesterday to celebrate her life. Thank you for so much truth and love. We mourn and wonder, why now, as we wonder about so many things. It’s so hard sometimes to live with the unknown and it makes us not want to believe the truths that are right in front of us. So, we live in the tension of this life … a life of both joy and sorrow. Then, we look at your daughter, Shannon, who you love the most. As you love us the most. Thank you for the gift of her remarkable life and how she made us more like the persons you seek us to be. And we realize this resolves the tension. This helps erase the doubts. Then our spirits are lifted and hope blooms again. The kind of hope that is not possible without you. Love, Brad.