No Rehearsal
Grief and gratitude can live side by side, with neither canceling out the other. These two conflicting emotions can wreak havoc on a person or a family, especially when loss and blessings are connected, and life continues moving forward while the heart is still learning how to carry grief. Faith reminds us that God is present in both the sorrow and the thanksgiving, holding each with equal care and giving us hope.
Grief and gratitude don’t always go hand in hand, but this week I want to talk about a friend of mine whose life holds both of these in a very fine balance.
He is a former St. Mary’s School in Pontiac student whom I had the pleasure of teaching for several years (technically three, though he spent much of his eighth-grade year in the hospital). He is also someone I now work with part-time at Wally’s. If you know Austin Eggleston, you probably have strong feelings about him. He would laughingly say, “They might not be good feelings, but hey—they’re feelings, right?!”
Austin was, is, and I’m guessing always will be a force to be reckoned with. I’m convinced this was done by design. God smashed the mold to pieces when He made Austin. As a student, he drove me absolutely insane. If I had to describe him in one word—impossible. Who am I kidding? Austin is so many things: super smart, incredibly sarcastic, wise beyond his years, loud, inappropriate, funny, curious, always wanting to learn—and oh yeah, he was born with a heart defect and was living on borrowed time.
When I met him in sixth grade, he had a bluish tint to his skin because of his heart issues. Tiny but powerful. His parents—yes, all three of them—were strong advocates for not treating him differently or “special.” He was just a regular kid. Except… he wasn’t.
Fast forward to eighth grade. Austin asked if he could give a presentation to his classmates about his need for a heart transplant. After meeting with his parents and the junior high teaching team, he was cleared to do so. He was well-liked by his classmates, so everyone knew laughter would be involved. His slides explained his heart condition and the reality that he had been placed on the transplant list. He let that sink in for a few very long seconds until one student finally asked, “Wait a minute… who is going to give you a heart?”
I watched as fear, tears, laughter, and a lot of honest explanations from Austin helped these kids understand that he would be leaving St. Mary’s to go to Lurie Children’s Hospital in Chicago to wait for a heart transplant.
Once again, grief and gratitude filled the room. These young students worried about their friend, prayed for a successful transplant, and wrestled with the reality that Austin’s new heart would come from someone else’s loss.
Austin left St. Mary’s School with a pep rally and plenty of fanfare as our Student Council President headed to Chicago to wait for “the call.” That was November of 2017.
On Saturday, March 17, 2018 (St. Patrick’s Day), we learned Austin would be receiving a heart.
The transplant was successful. Austin is doing great. If you know him, you know his self-deprecating humor would lead him to joke that he hasn’t done much with his life yet. But I disagree.
He is alive.
He is figuring life out, sometimes one minute at a time, but he is doing it. He is strong, incredibly intelligent (almost frighteningly so), and most importantly, he has time. Time to grow. Time to decide who he wants to be. Does it look like anyone else's path? I don't know. This kid has never looked like anyone else. He has never followed the rule book. Right now, he’s working full-time and entertaining coworkers and friends with his sharp wit and unforgettable personality.
Recently, Austin learned that a friend he met while waiting for his transplant had passed away. Her death stirred deep questions of grief and purpose - questions he has carried his whole life. Yet beneath the humor is a young man of strong faith, navigating both gratitude and sorrow with grace.
Austin knows there are no easy answers. But beneath the humor and sassy comebacks is a young man with profound faith—someone who has lived his entire life holding grief and gratitude together. He carries it all with kindness, grace, humor, and faith. Always faith. Austin—keep being you, bud. I don’t know why God placed us back in each other’s paths, but I am incredibly grateful He did.
It would be a blessing if we could all pray for Austin’s friend Hope and her family as they grieve her passing. Please also continue to pray for those waiting for organ transplants, and for the families who offer the selfless gift of life through donation.
(I asked permission from Austin before writing about him.)
