It thundered hard tonight. Because I wanted to see the lightning but had been studying I decided to read by flashlight and was immediately taken back to your gift.

About a week ago, in pondering the idea of identity and, specifically, times when I have felt most fully able to be myself, my experience meeting and talking with you and, mostly, receiving your letters, was one that most immediately came to mind.

Because we never got to know one another well at all, really – or, at least, over a long period of time – for so long it felt easy to look away from the profundity of your kindness’ impact on my life, including my ability to feel seen, feel remembered, and feel loved, in the painful aftermath of a divorce in my family and major move as a kid. But your impact in expressing God’s love has been considerable, and I feel it deeply today.

Months before meeting you, I remember sitting on my bed and praying to God with all of my heart about the magnitude of the hurt I was feeling; and I believe summer camp and, moreso, meeting you there, was Her answer.

In praying about how to even think about my regret about not having grabbed an opportunity to get to know you better, or for longer, I feel God has underscored so consistently and from the beginning that it is really His love I feel.

Still, after stubbornly looking you up anyway, I felt devastated to learn you were gone already.

For days after reading this, it felt almost impossible to so much as make an almond butter and jam sandwich. All I seemed able to think in doing so was that almond butter should never be separate from jam. We should never shirk at the magnitude of our opportunities, I’m learning.

Even though I know all the kindness that seemed to enter my life through you was really God’s doing, it still feels only right to say that, in the long shadow of a personal and work experience that seemed determined to diminish my sense of identity and worth, when I remembered you I remembered myself. It was almost as if, unbeknownst to me, you put a million dollar bill in my pocket all those years ago, and in the moment I needed it most, there it was.

I hope that when we meet again we are kids.