You know you've been around the block a little and that life has taken a bit of a bite out of you when you start reflecting on twentieth anniversaries of things. Now, I don't always commemorate anniversaries (for example, we will reach the 25th anniversary of 9/11, but I haven't always commemorated it, as significant a day that was), but either when it's a sort of major milestone, or if it happens to be particularly poignant that year, whether due to an ongoing circumstance that hits on the same memory nerve, or if I've had some breakthroughs I never imagined would come regarding the memory or the season thereof. The latter has happened since the last time I mentioned about this, which I believe was in 2022.
It's weird to think that Allen Strehlow would be 36 right now if he were still living. He passed away in the early morning hours on June 4, 2006, and I only found out about it via a Facebook message by a fellow peer of ours. Interestingly, the guy who informed me about it, Carl, I ran into him quite a few times during my stint at First Pres in Lake Forest from 2022 to 2023. It was a rare interesting opportunity, as I often don't run into people with whom I've long lost contact. Carl and I caught up on old times, including a shared milestone of being part of an American church choir, which Allen was also a part of, that had received the rare invitation and distinction of performing a notoriously difficult set of pieces at St. Paul's Cathedral, specifically Herbert Howells' St. Paul's Evening Service (I say "notoriously difficult" because you have to work hard to count the beats while performing Howells' music, and the 11-second reverberation at St. Paul's magnifies every mistake). However, looking back, I suspect that part of the reason St. Paul's OK'ed it when they did was because that was the year they finally decided to undergo the massive project of cleaning all their stones of the leftover soot from the 1666 London fire that had left many of its stones stained. The inside of the cathedral was full of scaffolding. As such, we would not get to experience the full 11 seconds of reverberation; as such, any mistakes that we might make would be minimized. No matter, we nailed the performance, so everyone who was in that choir on that tour has bragging rights of having been able to be part of such an exclusive experience. (I will say, I think that was one of the strongest choirs at St. Luke's that I had ever been a part of.)
Most of my other memories with Allen involve our shared time in youth group the last half of my senior year in high school (he was a freshman and had just been diagnosed with cancer). We teamed up while playing ultimate frisbee to nail some awesome point scores, and played ping pong. My last memory with him was driving him back to his house (not far from where my dad would ultimately move years later) just under a year before he passed, where I finally learned where the cancer was coming from. It was a nice pleasant conversation, and of course, I had no way of knowing that that would be the last time we would ever speak. I mean, he was 16! I had heard stories of other kids who had gotten cancer make a full recovery, so why wouldn't he?
In the post I wrote almost immediately after finding out the news from Carl, I was naturally very distraught. I don't know that I necessarily considered him that great of a friend, but the idea that someone my generation (and especially at that age) could die, period, let alone of something from which I naturally expected him to recover, that was difficult for me to grasp. And, based on the other discoveries about myself, I'm no longer surprised that it was as difficult for me to understand as it was.
The other significant thing about reflecting about the time in which Allen passed, is all the other stuff God was doing in my life during that time. I've previously blogged about aspects of it, but more recent revelations have shown more and more how much God was still in control and had plans for me even then, even though I would still say I wasn't saved then. My childhood best friend had "come out of the closet" the same summer Allen died, and, although I supported him at the time, I still needed a best friend to help me process my own attractions and feelings, which my childhood best friend could no longer do. God provided another friend who was great for that, plus more friends over time.
The more I think about it, I do also earnestly believe that this time was also intended to be a transition to preparing me for greater things. Because of a certain sin pattern that had previously been in my life (but thankfully stopped by this point), I had been in a sense under a curse. But now that I could finally put it away from me, it was time to no longer be cursed but to be blessed. I met someone that year that would prove to be a sign of this type of blessing that I believe God wanted to prepare me for, if not the reward itself. I know that now, because more recently He had brought to mind a decision that someone else had made. Namely, I was set to room with someone else as part of a quad and not the hellish roommate that I ended up rooming with the following summer, but that came apart because one of the guys from my preferred rooming situation forgot to pay his dorm fee on time, which killed our quad idea. My choice to room with the hellish roommate, including both the following summer as well as the following school year, that was my backup plan. (More on that story can be found in this post here.)
As for meeting the sign of the aforementioned blessing, that meeting didn't happen until I had decided to room with the hellish roommate, which ultimately ended up being only for the summer, and not the whole summer, at that. I learned a lot of things through my acquaintanceship with the person, the sign that God provided to prepare me. What a crazy time that indeed was. Thanks to His helping me further process it in the last couple years, including finishing it over the last six months, I think I finally have peace about the whole situation. So many what-ifs on so many different levels still lingered for years. And I mean, years. Thankfully, no more. I am free.
According to Carl, Allen passed at 2:30 AM. My roommate (yes, the hellish one) and I had gotten back from out of town that same evening where we were visiting his family, a good hour and a half drive away, and had just settled in for the night. That night, it took me about an hour to get to sleep. I remember laying on my "good" ear (I have hearing loss, and so my "bad" ear was the only one that could hear anything in the room if anything was going on). I remember hearing what sounded like a flurry of chaotic sound for what felt like forever. I suddenly shot up and looked at the time. My clock said 2:40 AM. I thought nothing of it and was finally able to drift off to sleep. I didn't find out until the following evening. Looking at it now, I believe that that chaotic sound that I was "hearing" inside my head (for I don't often experience this) may have been spiritual activity related to Allen's death. I publicly say that I might not have considered him as close a friend as I may have considered others from our youth group. But I do suspect he thought highly of me, in part because I might've been a rare high school senior who engaged with him and treated him well, as a freshman.
There are things this side of death I won't know. In 2018 and 2019 two older women I knew passed away. The one who passed away in 2018 was in her nineties. I had a dream one night where she yelled/screamed at me, only to find out the next day that she had passed away. The one who passed away in 2019 was in her sixties. That dream was more peaceful but sad. I saw what looked like a row of lights moving forward in outer space before disappearing behind a planet (and from my position, I could only see the dark side of this planet). In the dream, I felt specifically drawn to one particular light in that row, and once I saw it disappear behind the planet, I woke up crying. A few hours later, I received a text from another friend telling me that this one friend had passed away of a heart attack. So I do believe that if a person I know passes away and wants me to know about it, one way or another, it will happen. I believe that happened somewhat with Allen. I didn't get a sense in the moment that anyone had died, but I had gotten an auditory glimpse into the spiritual.
I'm not sure Allen was saved. Another guy his age, Zack, had evidently gotten on fire for Christ in ways that I've never known Episcopalians to do, and he had tried to witness to him. I'm not sure Zack was successful in getting him saved; he commented that Allen had maintained a pantheistic view of God and spirituality up through his last meeting, but he did try to convert him, to tell him about Jesus the way the Bible describes Him. Even though I was with Zack online as he was coping, I'm pretty sure I wasn't able to support him in the way that he needed in his time of grief. (I didn't know which way was up...)
Allen dying was a shock. My childhood best friend coming out of the closet was a different sort of shock, albeit not really a surprise. My roommate, who I had thought was a model Christian, turning out to be a controlling, manipulative jerk, was a grave disappointment, but not as disappointing as the other friends in that group that I would have lived with, who basically said, "oh well, that's unfortunate. Good luck" when I was still trying to salvage any hopes I had of remaining in the pod with them after my roommate relationship had soured beyond repair. But God was up to something nonetheless. He replaced my childhood best friend with a new best friend, one that would be far better equipped to helping me grow where I was at. He replaced the friend group that I would've had had I stayed with the hellish roommate, with another friend group that included a few guys I remained in touch with for years after graduating, including one with whom I still keep in touch even now. He allowed room for conversations for me to share a little more about myself with other friends as well, with the opportunity to continue to grow, if I would allow myself to.
I still had a lot of work regarding letting the river flow in my life overall, but in 2006 I was able to let it flow a little more than I had done previously. And so I'm grateful to God for providing me opportunities to do that.