It has only been a few weeks since the death of my daughter’s best friend, Katie Kittel. Katie was an incredible person, loved by many. If you watched any news these past weeks, you could hardly have missed the story. Katie had a boundless energy and enthusiasm for life. She loved God, and she loved no less than five or six hundred people—they showed up to celebrate her life. Katie was more than one person’s best friend. For two hours, people came up to an open microphone and they talked about how Katie had changed their lives. Her impact was stunning for someone who only lived for sixteen years.

My daughter shed many tears for Katie’s loss. I found myself crying, as well, and I wondered why I was crying. I hadn’t known Katie very well, but I could see the hole that she had left. I can’t imagine the grief and emptiness of her parents, her fiancé, and other family members. A world without Katie is not as beautiful.

Some will want to blame teenage driving for Katie’s death; a few will blame Lawyer’s Road; and a few others will likely blame God. Why didn’t God do something to prevent this? I have already heard the question asked. No one asked the question at the celebration of her life. This celebration was for remembering Katie and considering the gift of life, its meaning, and its destination. But, the question was asked in my family room as teens cried and all wondered, "Why did this happen?"

Tears are strange. We cry for disappointments. We cry when we are very afraid. We cry when we lose something or someone close to us. Only those of us who live in a state of denial are never disappointed or afraid.

Maybe, mankind is to blame for Katie’s death; we invented cars, not God. Must Katie pay the price for our ingenuity and dreams? I found myself praying for Katie to be raised from the dead at her celebration of life. I prayed for God to fix what we had broken, but nothing happened.

Easter is about resurrection and hope. Christ was raised from the dead, so we know that we will be raised, too. If God intends to raise the dead, why only a few? Why does he not raise the dead now? It would certainly be joyful if the Lord were to raise the dead now, all of the time. But, he waits.

We could discuss the problem of sin or we could talk about how Our Father is changing us, teaching us, and molding us into the image of his Son. Perhaps, we would even want to consider the ways in which this life is like a test. None of those thoughts makes me feel any better. The conflict of life is coping with the wait and struggling with making sense of the plan.

It is impossible for us to explain the "why’s" of some of the disappointments and tragedies in our lives. Why isn’t everyone as smart as everyone else? Why does everyone have to look different? Why are there mean people in the world? On and on, I could wonder, but when I think about Katie, I know that the Lord knows more than I do, because Katie changed hundreds of lives in sixteen years.

Will we have sixteen years or sixty? Now that I am forty-one, four hundred doesn’t seem like enough. I want to live forever, but what I see is tragedy and loss. I fear the unknowns, and my faith is tested by what I see as reality. For a time, I cry, forgetting that in heaven, the only tears will be tears of joy.