Give Us Another Chance...

I was just thinking about Chance. Chance Pate- our friend who died in a car wreck exactly two years ago yesterday. It's not really a sad thought, because all of my memories of him are funny :) Either that, or slightly embarrassing!

Chance was one of the people God put in my life to get me to lighten up. He lived with us for 2 and a half years, when I was about 12-14. He was an energetic, outgoing, aspiring English-teacher-to-be. Lots of nervous energy. Lots of laughs. Lots of go.

It always drove me crazy when he and Mom sang country songs they both knew...(of course the rest of us were too dignified for that) At suppertime he'd rush into the house, barge into the kitchen, and hack a piece of homeade bread off the loaf, slathering it with butter and honey. Then he'd scarf it down, raving about homeade bread. "We're about to eat supper, Chance!" Mom would scold, "You're not even going to be hungry!"

Chance would sit up late at night, trying to prod my dad into deep conversation. "So Mark, what do you think about during the day?" "What do I think about? Chance, I don't know what I think about!"

Being the neat-freak that he was, Chance sometimes got sudden, blitzkreig-type urges to clean the house, which, often turned disastrous. Mom appreciated his orderliness, but sometimes was distressed when the bills went missing (only to be found in a random drawer somewhere.) Once, the felt she was cutting out for an Easter devotions craft went missing, and she discovered it months later in our decorative butter churn, where Chance had stuffed it in a maniacal fit of tidying!

The only time Chance got mad at one of us (visibly, that is) was when Connor, getting a little out of hand, kneed him in the jaw (Chance had braces at the time), and Chance stormed up to his room to cool off for a bit.

Starving for English-teacher-type-counsel, I always relished the times when Chance would sit me down for an english chat...he had me reading Hamlet, contorting my brain over commas, and laboring over a research paper on Tolkien- which nearly killed me, but turned out for my good.

Since he wasn't just an english major, but was studying psychology as well, Chance liked to come home and, well, analyze us. I remember confiding that I felt that most boys were show offs and had "boy disease" (my personal rendering of "cooties") and that I didn't have any friends who were boys. "Well," Chance exclaimed, "what am I, CHOPPED LIVER?!!" No, Chance was my friend, my english teacher, the big brother I never had.

We didn't see Chance very much after he moved out and got married, and life just changed for everybody, and it was ok. When he died, it wasn't really like losing a brother, because we weren't with him everyday. It was more like a deep shock and sadness that he was gone- a fixture in the house of our lives, like so many friends who drift out of touch and are taken for granted. Still, I always thought Chance would be there to occasionally read my papers and scribble red ink all over them, clap loudest at my graduation, celebrate at my wedding, and be there to tell my kids how, if they didn't behave, he was gonna "tie you to the fan and swing you 'round and 'round till the blood rushes to your toes and your toes pop!"

So yeah. That's kind of sad, thinking he's not around anymore, but there are so many good memories, and so much to thank God for. Life is so short here anyway, and God is the one who gives and takes away. I'm just reminded by Chance's life to appreciate each good gift, each life God has put beside mine.