Goodnight, Jim.

Tonight I was given the very sad news that my friend and mentor, Jim, died earlier in the week. When I got the call, there were so many images that filled my mind. And now, while I should really be asleep in bed, I can't stop thinking about him.

I first got acquainted with Jim when I was a therapist intern, learning how to do therapy after obtaining a master's degree in counseling. Jim is the consumate professional, and was an excellent model for a novice like me. He was absolutely unflappable, regardless of patients with eratic behavior, threats by grandiose narcissists, or despondent individuals threatening to kill themselves. Jim always knew exactly what to do and had a wonderful way of talking with patients until they actually wanted to make good choices.

Jim was from West Virginia. I have known few men who could come close to his quiet, genteel ways. His slow drawl and twinkly eyes could both sooth and motivate. And I loved to make him laugh during our supervision hour. He made this funny inhaling sound like a seal when he laughed--very loudly--that made everyone nearby laugh just to hear him.

When, as a new therapist, I was invited to the position of a director of a counseling service, a group of psychologists with whom I worked decided that they should have the position. They actively lobbied the administrators who hired me to hire them instead. Jim was the only colleague who stood behind me and opposed them. He had faith in me, but he also would not tolerate violations of integrity in either personal or professional life. Because of his support, I held a terrific position for three years under his supervision, and obtained excellent training in administration and therapy services.

The last time I saw Jim, I was interviewing for my job at the university where he teaches. He didn't see me, and I decided not to make myself known at that time. I thought I would just invite him and his wife over for dinner after we had moved and gotten settled into his town. He would be able to finally meet the wonderful man I married. Sadly, this can never be.

I keep thinking that if I could just frame a lofty enough commentary about Jim and my experience of him, that I will stop feeling bereft. But alas, this is not true. Jim has died, and I will miss him terribly.

Brothers, we do not want you to be ignorant about those who fall asleep, or to grieve like the rest of men, who have no hope. We believe that Jesus died and rose again and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him. According to the Lord's own word, we tell you that we who are still alive, who are left till the coming of the Lord, will certainly not precede those who have fallen asleep. For the Lord himself will come down from heaven, with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet call of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first. After that, we who are still alive and are left will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. And so we will be with the Lord forever. Therefore encourage each other with these words. (1 Thessalonians 4:13-18).

Good night, my dear friend. I'll see you in the morning.