Like a roaring lion your adversary the devil prowls around, looking for someone to devour. 1 Peter 5:8

Last weekend, the lion devoured my cousin.  The lion’s roar sounded a lot like a gunshot.  The lion looked a lot like her husband.  Murder-suicide is something that always afflicts other families—until it strikes yours.  The devastation is incalculable.    

The world took a big hit with this one, though it likely will never know in full what it means to lose Kathleen, the vibrant, loving, life-changing school teacher; the devoted daughter to my older cousin, her mom, ; and herself the mom of two young adult sons.   In the time it takes to pull a trigger she was ripped out of this life, bringing the harshest devastation to family, friends and co-workers.  A bunch of them filled up Kat’s church this afternoon for a “Celebration of Life” service, where the whole pastoral staff spent a fair amount of time offering comfort and hope as best they could.

The first time I met Kat she was a teenager, full of life, smart as a whip, and possessing something–“It,” whatever “It” is–and I figured at the time that she’d soon be off on an amazing journey, doing amazing things.  I was right, even though she never got too far from her home town in the Texas panhandle.  She took that light she’d been given, harnessed it in the discipline of school teaching, and set to work educating kids while also loving them, which is something you don’t find anywhere but in the best teachers.  Someone at the service shared that she once went out of her way to give a student a ride home when she found out the kid was being bullied while walking home.  That was one story out of hundreds, most likely.  Her Facebook page lit up with posts once the horrible news made it to those whose lives were touched by her.  So many posts! 

Facebook is where she and I would keep tabs on each other. (Facebook IS good for such things.)  We sent prayer requests to one another that we’d then pass on  to our respective churches.  We talked (messaged) about Christian faith, she asked questions, and we both shared articles. She was witty and humorous. We tacitly agreed to disagree, given our directions toward different poles of the Christian spectrum.  And we both loved a good cat meme when we saw one.

A few years ago I was able to pop down to Texas to visit my cousin Glennda and her husband. I figured Kat was her usual busy self, and given the shortness of my stay, I figured I’d miss her. But she called her mom, heard we were visiting, and carved a chunk out of her evening to come over and visit with me a bit. We sat at the table and talked church, school, faith, bible, the challenges of teaching today’s kids, and how today’s kid’s are especially challenged by personal and societal circumstances. We disagreed on things mostly having to do with church and how each of us read the bible, but at the end of the evening that was small change. We were family, and afterwards I was more determined to keep up with her better on FB.

Early this year I was thinking of taking a trip back down for another visit, post-pandemic, and thought I’d likely be enjoying another one of those conversations.  But then the lion came and devoured her last weekend.  

Yes, we can talk till we’re blue in the face about the love of Jesus and the gift of eternal life, but the truth is that she was torn out of this world way too soon by an inexcusable and vulgar act of violence.  What the hell happened?  The best we can say, I think, is that hell happened.  I have no idea what sort of demons inspired her husband to point a loaded gun at her and pull the trigger, then to pull the trigger on himself.  I just figure such a thing has to be demonically inspired.  And right now I don’t give a whit for the quality of life on the next existential plane; the quality of life in this one has literally been shot to pieces for a lot of people.  And Kat has been stolen away far too soon. 

That lion is one evil bastard. 

Rest in peace, Kat, and may God’s perpetual light always shine upon you.