Jonathan D. Blundell

A Life Worth Living – written March 22, 2005 (published the following week)

Last week as many of you may know, my family buried my sister Amy. I never dreamed that day would come. I don’t think anyone did.

Amy was full of life, energy and love for her friends, family and most importantly her Lord and Savior.

I was honored to write Amy’s obituary, but I felt inadequate as I finished the biography of 24 years.

How could 24 marvelous years be summed up in 329 words?

We sat on Tuesday afternoon going through boxes and boxes of photos Amy had collected during her short life.

If a picture is worth a thousand words, how could 329 words suffice?

I began to wonder how long my obituary might be.

I’m certain its length would be longer. I am two years older than Amy and she always considered me the “social butterfly” of our family. While I was always ready to jump into the next big thing, she was quietly memorizing scripture or spending time with her closest friends.

I remember after I transferred to The University of Mary Hardin-Baylor Amy would be frustrated when people knew her as “Jonathan’s little sister.”

After all, she did arrive at UMHB an entire year before I did.

She was never the outgoing, outspoken member of our family.

As a middle child I think she gave up trying to steal any talk-time or spotlight away from our youngest sister or me.

But a long obituary means nothing. A life worth living is measured by quality and not quantity.

I may live to be 99, but I will always question if my life was any where near worthy of hers.

Only 329 words for an obit, but those boxes and boxes of pictures really do say so much more.

As you look through them they’re not a “who’s who” of Mesquite, Belton, Dallas or anywhere else. But they’re a “who’s who” of who really mattered to Amy.

No matter how many boxes you went through, you didn’t find too many new faces.

Amy’s group of friends were small – but they were so very close.

She wasn’t out to be involved in every club in college. She wasn’t interested in making a name for herself.

She never set out to be Ms. Popular or Ms. I Know Everybody — but her funeral was a testimony that Amy impacted everyone she knew.

She was just here to help those nearest and dearest and live a life worthy of Christ — and in the end she made an impact on everyone she came in contact with.

Because while the faces in Amy’s boxes were few, the lives she touched were anything but.

Everyone who knew her loved her. And to be a part of her close circle meant you were something special.

I never understood why while growing up I went through girlfriends like dirty socks and Amy never dated at all.

It’s because she knew what she was looking for and she wasn’t going to settle for anything less.

She had her list and checked it twice.

If you didn’t meet her expectations, see you later, you won’t get her attention.

That’s why I know God placed her fiancé Matt in her life. She wouldn’t take anything less than God’s best.

When Amy was hitting her early teens I was reminded how she was so worried about how she looked and how no guy would ever want to date her.

My best friend Matt consoled her saying, “Amy you’re beautiful. Someday your prince will come and take you away.”

That meant the world to her and she waited expectantly for her prince.

Her prince finally arrived nearly 10 years later.

Matt came into her life on a white horse and stole her heart away (much to the frustration of a way-too protective older brother.)

But despite any fears or doubts, Matt was Amy’s Proven Prince.

They were so in love. Not only with each other but with their God and Savior.

And as Amy laid in hospital beds and rested at home over the last month, Matt proved himself over and over again to everyone.

There is no one else I would have rather have had standing in my place protecting her from the world and its hurts and pains.

But while Matt was Amy’s Proven Prince here on earth, her Heavenly Prince Jesus Christ comforted her so much more.

She loved nothing more than reading His love letters to her and talking with Him.

She talked about Him constantly. She did everything she could to make Him happy.

And I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that when she walked through the pearly gates of heaven her Heavenly Prince said, “Well done, my good and faithful servant. Welcome home.”

My parent’s pastor told the Easter Sunday congregation that he had received an e-mail shortly after Amy’s funeral.

The e-mail said that the writer had never really known Amy but they regretted that tremendously after attending her funeral.

The writer said that Amy was a true example of a life given to Christ and a lifestyle of evangelism.

Amy’s life was a testimony to Christ and a testimony to lifestyle evangelism.

She often wondered how she could reach her co-workers for Christ and how she could reach those around her. But she did it the best way she knew how — living a life focused on Christ.

For many of us, it takes 20, 30, or maybe even 70 or 80 years to figure out this thing called life.

But I’m quite certain Amy had it all figured out when she was three years old, sitting in a bathtub.

She made a decision that would affect the rest of her life, by accepting Christ as her Lord and Savior.

There was no evangelist breathing fire and brimstone down her neck, no flashy media presentation, no pressure to walk the aisle with her friends, just a burning desire in her heart to be like the Christians she knew and more importantly — to be like Christ.

Yet even as I wrap up this column I feel like 1060 words are not near enough.

I could write many more volumes on my sister, Amy Elizabeth Blundell. And even still, she would be embarrassed with the little I’ve written here.

I love you Amy and we all miss you greatly.