The Contingency Plan

I went to a funeral for my friend Matt last year. He was addicted to cocaine, went through rehab, got his life back on track, fell in love and was married for just a month before he died. He was also my church leader when I was 13-17 years old. Those years were full of crazy camps, girl power, mock surviver wars and talks where he taught me invaluable lessons of courage and self worth.

Matt wasn't like some of the church leaders I know. Some revel in the appearance of perfection, but he was raw, gritty and damn funny. He didn't hide his own downfalls and I loved him for it. He was passionate about encouraging and empowering young people and had started a national youth leadership foundation that has grown to become an influential national body, touching thousands of lives.

Matt was expected to meet his wife at an interstate conference, but the night before his flight, ventured out for a last-minute hit. This amazing man died with a needle in his arm in a grotty alley way. He deserved so much more and I could hardly keep from shaking when I saw his family wearing numb faces of grief and heard his distraught wife talking of his struggles and her overwhelming loss. She then layed flowers he'd grown for her on his coffin and above it, the most recent photo of him during his wedding day.

I also grew up with Bek at church. She was adopted and had a depressing family life. I knew she had problems and secrets I would never learn, but because of these, she was a hard person to crack. We barely see each other as we don't go to church anymore, but regardless, she grew to become successful lawyer and socialite full of agendas, a vindictive tongue and an obsession with material things, which is why I've kept my distance.

Today Penelope came over and I learned two things: Matt has a son and Bek is alive. These two things amaze me because Matt's wife learned she was pregnant with his child a month after he died and Bek was staying in Phi Phi Island, Thailand, when the devastating tsunami hit last week. Her fiance saved her life and she apparently has a new found, far simpler philosophy on life. She's had three operations in Thailand, has just come out of intensive care, is due home on Wednesday, but won't walk for at least another three months.

A friend recently wrote me an email saying, "life is funny, and difficult, and redemptive, and kind" and today, these stories reminded me of this.