Thursday, October 27, 2011

A Tribute To My Good Friend: Remembering Ed Adams

I don't even know where to start with this one, but I guess I must start somewhere.  Life without Ed Adams is going to be hard.  I cannot lie: I find tears streaming down my face as I walk across campus...when I enter familiar spaces and I remember our conversations...and as I contemplate our friendship.

Our friendship began even before we really knew each other, even as we met before classes began at a Black Seminarians Mixer.  We realized very early that we both had a love for preaching, were both from South Carolina, and were both Baptists.  We had both been professionals in different industries, and we had given up quite a bit to come back to divinity school.

Ed and I took many classes together, especially preaching classes...and our friendship grew as we realized similarities around leadership, the church, and Black folk...no matter how any of those things got on our nerves.  Ed had been a calming spirit when my mother died of cancer my first year of divinity school. He had also been my encourager when I felt that my preaching abilities were sub-par.  Honestly though, we challenged each other, we appreciated each other...we ARE brothers!

As you can imagine, I love my brothers!  This was the last thing I said to Ed on Tuesday around 11AM.  It had kind of become a ritual that during the weeks of the 2011 fall semester I would call Ed on my way to work, particularly when I worked late days.  Tuesday, October 18 was no different.  That morning, for some reason we had a short conversation about what I had been up to after my birthday, going to the fair, and how his family was doing.  I can remember being a bit nervous that morning...and Ed giving me a hard time about going to the fair and not bringing him a corn dog and an elephant ear.  He didn't know that I had already made plans to return to the fair on Thursday to grant his request.

His last word on that call were, "I love you brother."  I responded, "I love you too brother."  Love can be a strong word for two men to share who do not have biological ties. But our love for each other had been forged in our challenges with school, our internships in Houston, our sparring about the church, and our many conversations about managing family/personal things.  It had been developed when professors gave us a hard time, and through "Catfish Fridays."  It had been forged over fears, and prayers, and joys, and laughter.  My love for my good friend had been forged because God had saw fit to provide for me a friend who understood the journey of a preacher.

Ed was a new pastor to new pastors!  Even in sickness, Ed did more counseling and support of friends than anybody I know: sick or well!  Everybody went to Ed's house for advice and counsel...and ultimately to share their hearts.  Ed always listened...and always provided sage counsel, even if he had to say, "I told you so."  Always with a dose of laughter, Ed pushed people into their purpose and callings.  Regardless of whether he agreed with you or not, he always seemed to see beyond the issue to see where you were supposed to go.  I can remember many times giving up on the church and questioning my calling...and Ed would chime in, "Palmer, you ain't nothin' but a preacher."  It was Ed who saw in me what I could not see in myself.

When I almost quit school because of my family obligations, it was Ed who saw beyond my tears...and encouraged me to finish what I started.  When I voiced anger with professors, it was Ed who reminded me that I could not discount others' humanity.  When I wanted to advocated for Black Students, it was Ed who told me to go easy, but stay committed.  Ed was always there, even in his illness.

Unlike Ed, I never knew what to say.  I would look nervous when I had to visit my friend in the ICU.  I would always say the wrong thing, when I wanted to ask Ed how he was really doing.  Unlike Ed, I never seemed to provide to my brother the kind of understanding that I always recieved.  But, I did pray for Ed...I prayed for his healing...I prayed for him when I was scared of what was happening.  I prayed and I called.

I wish I could have done more.  I am mad at myself for not doing more.  I am upset that my friend is no longer here...and I will no longer hear his booming voice, hear him chuckle at something silly, hear him prepare to preach by working through his sermon with friends, or hear him repeat an insight over and over again.

I have already begun missing the little things...like the ability to report to him the daily workings of our school, the latest sermon, or the needs for the Black Church.  I have already begun missing our lunches and dinners together, which always revealed some new facet about both of our lives.  I have already begun missing our travels to revivals.  I have already begun missing him.

While I realize that God had to call him home, I miss my good friend Ed dearly.  I had hoped to visit his church and watch him pastor...and to sit in his office and tell the story of how he conquered death, as Elysa grew into a young woman.   However, today, I am left with the light of his memory...and the memory of his insights.

Ed has his hand's on my shoulder!
With each passing day, I weep for the loss of Ed in a world that needed to have someone "Run and Tell That."  I weep for the loss of my confidante!  I weep for April's loss.  But, I remember Ed's words and thoughts.  And I rejoice that God's Word is true...and one day in the coming future, I will see my good friend Ed again!