March 23, 2013
by Ronna Plank
Oh! Where to begin! I have so many awesome Rebekah stories! My personal favorites revolve around the remembering or should I say lack of remembering, her chair. On many more than one occasion, I got out of the car and started to walk away, wondering why the heck she wasn't following me. Of course, I had forgotten that her chair was in the back seat and she couldn't just get out and walk with me. It took Rebekah hollering out of the car "Hey Rae-Rae! You forgot my legs!" For me to turn around and rectify the situation. As horrible as I felt each time, she graciously reminded me that it was a blessing to have a friend that saw her, and not her chair. Rebekah was so much more than her chair that it was so easy to forget its presence. She always carried herself with so much grace and strength that I never even gave the chair a second thought. She always used humor to deflect awkwardness, regardless of appropriateness. I loved her for it. We once couldn't park in a handicap spot due to a "obviously two legged able bodied man. She rolled right up to him and sitting under the handicap sign asked him (with her arms sticking straight out at 90 degree angles imitating the handicap placard) "Which one looks more like you?" I almost peed my pants laughing at his poor face. Love that girl and her willingness to take on anyone.
I remember laughing and crying with Rebekah. I remember dreaming with her about our future selves. I remember the ferocious and protective love she had for her baby sisters and how she spoke of them daily as if they were her own. There was no situation that she couldn't face. Rebekah will always and forever be one of my dearest and greatest friends. She loved unconditionally and forgave easily. I only wish that she had loved herself as much as she loved others. I know though that she is running, dancing, cartwheeling herself around heaven at this very moment. I bet that she will take great pride in being taller than me when I arrive t heavens gates to meet her. And after she's giggled about her stature, she will hug me fiercely and ask me to run through the pearly gates by her side.
We've lost an incredible person, but heaven has gained a irreplaceable soul. I know that she wouldn't want me to grieve, but rejoice in her wholeness. And despite knowing that, and rejoicing for her, I still grieve her loss in my life.