Jennifer G.

I met Jennifer while working for WNY Dialysis. She was returning from maternity leave and I was coming off orientation. One of the first things I remember about her were those blue eyes. They look straight through you-- clear, piercing, honest, intent, anticipating. We hit it off after a few weeks of watching each other work. She has one of the most honest work ethics that I've ever seen, besides my mother. She's intelligent, but always teachable; professional, but always approachable. She was always kind to her patients, going above and beyond to ensure their comfort and care, even if they were rotten and mean. Of all the people I've known, she has been the most consistent in doing the right thing in any given situation. It's like her internal compass knew true North naturally.

Jennifer was a seeker, staring me down in long conversations about God, Hell, sin, human nature, wanting to know what I thought, what I really believed, and why. And let me tell you, you don't lie to those eyes. They know when you're flinching or punting. She knew, above all the questions and answers, that I was devout (and a pastor's wife, gulp). She christened me her "spiritual mentor," wanting what I had. (Did I mention that this sort of responsibility terrified me?!? Lol.) She was so hungry for God. We had known each other over a year, and one day I invited her to just come by the church for a visit. We had a meeting place. sure enough, Sunday, there she was. I gave her the tour, introducing her to everyone I could, wanting her to feel connected and welcomed. She was so excited about the kids' ministries for her little ones (then 3.5 and 1.5), she asked, "How much do I have to pay for them to go to class?" I was agog. "You don't pay. You just come, Jennifer." "No, they're providing such a great service, I should pay them something." And I kept explaining, this is free, please don't pay. I clearly remember standing in the back of the gym service, listening to the band play "Surrender," and out of the corner of my eye I saw her brushing away tears. That day I cried, thinking of her humble, willing spirit, showing up alone, reaching out, willing to give whatever it took to find Jesus.

Jennifer quickly put herself on the path to find Him. She went through Alpha, took her time to go away on the retreat and find childcare for the kids. Her husband wasn't much of a help, especially since she was becoming this "holy roller." Took Wednesday classes, showed up for worship, took notes, asked questions, listened with those steady blue eyes. One day she called me, sobbing, the marriage was over. I went to just be with her, provide some kind of presence, but three days later I was in labor for Izak. Out in the OB lobby, waiting patiently with my mom, Carrie, Audrey, and Elvin, was a broken-but-resilient Jennifer G. One hour after my son was born, she came into my room, smiling, teary-eyed, with a huge turkey/ham sub and a Diet Coke. It was the perfectly right thing to do for me. (And the tradition continued with Libby... after a nine-month flu, a sub never tasted so good.)

Jennifer has always modeled a servant's heart to me. Even when she was alone, exhausted, working two jobs, trying to keep her kids afloat, she made me dinners, counseled me in the night with my hyperemesis, and would have been there at 3 a.m. to clean my toilets if I'd have asked (her words, not mine)... always with an unspoken gratefulness. She is an inspiration to me, I tell her ever chance I get. I have never known anyone who has had the discipline to put one foot in front of the other and seek God with everything she has like she has. She can see her brokenness, but instead of excusing it or whining about it, she pulls herself up by the bootstraps and does something about it. And in my opinion, it has consistently been the right thing.

Her card made me cry. Written on the inside cover -- "You are the one person who has brought me to God." My dearest friend, I merely held the door. You walked in all by yourself. I love you.