Are your things in order (do you have your shit together)

I can remember my first contact with a "born again" Christian. I was in Highschool. I traveled a couple of hours to Geneva College to see Petra in concert (i know, im dating myself). I was standing on my chair, shaking my head and fist, pointing my index finger in the air to a God I had not yet really come to know. A young, preppily dressed (is that word) young man was working his way down the row. He was walking where those of us on chairs should have been standing. He looked up at me and said "are your affairs in order?" Supid question to ask a teenagers. "huh" i said. "Are you born again?". "Ya dude", I quipt. I knew what he meant. He was asking if i had a personal relationship with Jesus. We will leave the "saved" lingo for another blog. "What the hell did he mean" i asked my friend, " about having my things in order?" He tried to explain, and my father later told me that he was referring to a secular question that often accompanies those who are close to death. It ask the questions: do you have a will? Do you have life insurance? Are those papers in order if something should happen to you? As the last kid in the house my parents would often show me "the box". It had all those papers in it that i would need if something happened and my parents died while they were traveling. People would always ask me if that creeped me out. Actually, it actually got me wondering how much mula my tight wad dad had squirled away. My affairs are in order. I do have a personal relationship with Jesus. Im not sure its something for the light hearted. IF you are a wimp in life, dont even try. Its one of the hardest things youll ever do. But the grace is as sweet as high quality joint dipped in the sweetest honey. My life would be a complete disaster without that grace. And a bleak future would cast me into the darkest depression with no return. My other affairs are in order too. I have two life insurance policies. The paper work is tucked away in a fire safe box next to the computer. My friend Matt had some things in order. Just a few months ago he joined our forces at work. When i met him i was scared. He was huge, dressed like a thug, tatoos from head to toe, cut off sleeves, ball cap, huge dip in his lip, and not much to smile about. 80% of his last 15 years were spent in Juvenile lock ups or prison. His beautiful wife Tiffany and He were just getting used to thier methodone doses to ease them off thier addiction to Heroin. They were both showing up to work. THey were joining our family. In the midst of some in depth conversations, "they got saved". I would have never put it that way. But what they understood was the Grace of Christ. In spite of thier life, thier incarceration, thier drugs, thier neglected daughter, they got it. They came to understand that we all stand equal in the site of GOd and helpless. They got the grace. With in a week our Baptist heavy staff had them down to the river, Matt, Tif, and 9 year old Sierra for a full emersion. They were coming to church. Sierra came to VBS. Matts special ankle bracelet kept him close by and he was an amazing spirit of joy and jocularity. His presence was pervasive. One of the side effects of the Methodone that we noticed right away was drowsiness. Matt and Tif would fall asleep at the drop of a hat. This past Friday morning it happened again. Unfortunately matt had the cruise set well above the speed limit. The State Trooper new he had fallen asleep at the wheel becasue thier were no skid marks at all following his car, crossing the median, and head on into a van. As you could see on the news, Matts body under the sheet, He didnt have a chance. He was crushed. Tif survived. Sierra was not with them. Left alone in her emergency room to deal with the pain of 2 breaks in her pelvis and a broken heart we found her sobbing out of control. " I saw him, i saw him laying there, i can get it out of my head, help me get him out of my head. What am i gonna do. What am i gonna do with out him". What do you say to that? What do you do? We all just kinda cried together. Im not sure i would have felt (doped up with anit-depressants) the true pain had i not seen Tif, or Matts Mom. She was broken, vomiting, falling, confused, faint. We all felt lost. As family members poured into the hospital, any judgement i had towards Matts lifestyle went away. He didnt have a chance in Hell to make it to heaven. I have never seen so many dregs of humanity in my life. Wrap sheets, tracks, tats, crack-teeth, crack-frames, illiterate, selfish, drama-addicted, products of Appalachian poverty. Matts one and only chance of a full life was grace and is eternity. TIf's is grace and grace now as she muddles through. Sierra's? Not sure. Maybe her life will be better with out a Dad, who as cool as he was, his environment and uprbrining would undoubtatly have put him back in prison. I think the Judge was right at his last hearing, "Matt, i think prison is the only place you can survive". He gave Matt one more chance. Why? cause we stepped in and asked him to. Maybe Matt would be still alive. Maybe he wouldnt. His dumbass grandfather blames his death on me/us, the Judge and police for letting him out. Who knows. We will bury him Thursday. The way it works here is that family and friends arrive with shovel to dig the grave. Its a reponsibility of those closest to him. My job? Get over it, move on, and put more effort into building a better world for children, like Sierra, who with all things constant would follow closely behing her mom an dad. We must build bridges out of poverty. We must build bridges made of grace. Is my shit in order. Yes, but i still wanna show my wife exactly where the papers are and the phone numbers of the people she must call that her shit can be in order when my shit is dead and gone. "my grace is sufficient for you". good thing, grace.