Ben Titera

Last night I was in the throes of tour prep, packing and organizing and re-packing and visiting with people, when I got word that my friend Ben died in an accident the night before. I was stunned. I really did stumble around for a bit, emotional shock and some stuttering and tears. Luckily no one was around to see how messed up I got over it. I was surprised at how messed up I got over it.

Ben and I hadn't seen each other in years. In fact, the last time I had a chance to see him it was just a few weeks after my grandfather passed away, so I couldn't take the time off work to go. And I was sad about that, but I figured we'd have another chance. We had years ahead of us. Right?

And we weren't even a little bit good at staying in touch. Our news of each other was gathered through friends who did stay in touch. He recently moved to Park City and connected with me on Facebook, and I was looking forward to find a chance to hang out with him again.

So why does it matter so much?how much of an emptiness can come from the loss of a friend you never see?

I guess you'd have to know Ben.

He was an elder in my mission. The district leader in a place called Torcy. He arrived there a month after I did, and I'm afraid my reputation of being the sister that "didn't take any crap" had preceded me. Bt this district was so accepting. And in walked elder Titera, whose reputation as the elder who gave out crap was well known and well earned. There was the potential for every conflict there. But he jumped right in and trusted me. He initiated a relationship of kindness and encouraged me to explore the more fun aspects of missionary work, all the while bearing a powerful testimony. He taught me that you don't have to be a stick in the mud in order to serve the Lord. And he taught me in a sweet and gentle way. Patiently. Which is a bit of a miracle in and of itself ,since while he was being kind and patient with me he was at the same time hog-tying his companions, stealing chickens from members, and being generally and totally disruptive to all the order I thought i was supposed to be maintaining. He was the elder who was the target of the great blueberry pie adventure, something that had him peeing blue for weeks to come. And i remember his shock at my being the person who delivered the blow, baked the pie and served it in the name of another elder's birthday. But I think that was also some evidence of his success at getting me to loosen up. You see, Ben's strength was teaching through love, and that love was expressed in a spirit of inclusion that reflected the very core of the gospel. He was the kind of guy I never would have hung out with or even approached in high school, but we grew to have a love and respect that I treasured for my entire mission. It made me feel better about myself to know that someone like Ben Titera loved me, and that I could love him back. He testified boldly to the world around him profound understanding of God's love for everyone. And he testified quietly to me that I was included. I think it was the first time in my life that I was included in something so amazing. It made all the difference, coming from a district where the sisters were regarded as second class citizens and the zone leader manifested time after time that he was less than trustworthy.

So I've carried his impact on my life with me every day since. It is one of the memories I rely on when depression or anxiety attempt to destroy the life I am trying to build.

Once, during our mission, he called me classy.

Once, after our mission, he called me beautiful.

I can't tell you how rare and precious even just those words have been to me.

This post is a mess. I am a mess. We are all the way on the other side of the nation, doing sound checks and preparing for a concert. And while we were rehearsing I heard words that I have sung a hundred times, renewed to me today in a perfect description of my lost friend.

Perhaps you think me wild,
Or simple as a child.
I am a child of glory.
I am born from above,
My soul is filled with love,
I love to tell the Story.

My soul now sits and sings,
And practices it's wings,
And contemplates the hour,
When the messenger shall say,
"Come quit this house of clay,
And with bright angels tower."

My soul doth long to go
Where I may fully know
The glory of my Savior
And as I pass along,
I'll sing the Christian song,
I'm going to live forever.

I can just picture my giant of a friend towering with the angels, laughing as he hog-ties a few, and singing along in his not-so-refined but always enthusiastic voice. I'm going to live forever.






He's the second from the left.

Dieu soit avec toi jusqu'au revoir, quand la mort, le deuille ne serents plus.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad