This I Believe

Jamie - Ellensburg, Washington
Entered on October 3, 2007

I believe in angels on earth.

My senior year in high school, I found myself sitting in art class, making a coil vase, smoothing it out, for a good four weeks. Though I loved art class, I wasn’t doing so well otherwise. My relationships with my friends and my parents and my grades were all suffering. I didn’t laugh as much I used to, and my smile wasn’t as big, seriously.

There was this boy in my art class, Hunter, who was a natural artist, to his dismay. I had known him in middle school, we rode the same bus and made fun of each other, you know the good stuff. But now I would see him in the halls with his ipod earphones in his ears, slightly looking down.

That year of art class ended, and by then I had found out through all the making fun of each other, that he was a Christian.

The summer after I graduated high school, Hunter shared his story with me about his family life, his love of India, his Arabic lessons, his calling to be a missionary, his faith, and his past. We began to share this bond, of struggling in the secular world, as young Christians, trying to learn how to live and survive. He would encourage me, telling me that I was a blessing, or something crazy like that. He was the most humble person I ever knew. Humble, kind, compassionate, loving, generous, and sacrificial and I wondered why he was friends with me?!

Then when I came to college, we would talk, and I would share of the friends I found here, and the church I found, and the trials I found. He would love me, build me, and when I felt weak, I just had to think of him and I knew we were fighting this world together.

Then he had a brain tumor. I cried, and didn’t go to class for a week, because I couldn’t leave my bed. I got sick, or made myself sick, who knows. But he had faith, and strength, and loved the Lord.

Then a year later, he died, before I got to see him, or tell him how much I thought I needed him to stay a float. I couldn’t do it by myself; I swore I couldn’t live this life without my friend.

Then at his ceremony, I learned of so many things he did to help others that only his family knew about. He is an angel that walked this earth, taught me, helped me, and showed me things. I remember looking into his eyes and seeing Jesus looking back, the quiet boy in the hall. Every time I look up to the sky I see the clouds and the mountains and I remember him.

I believe in angels on earth, they come and go, and we learn from them. I am pretty sure that the good do die young, and am really sure that the Lord knew that his angel, needed to go home.