The McGrew Chronicles
(A memorial by Megan's 9th grade math teacher Rich Dixon)

In some ways it’s sort of curious that I am speaking here. I knew Megan, but there are many people that were a lot closer to her than I. But for some reason, as this week unfolded, I felt that I wanted to say something today. My relationship with Megan was the product of so many different relationships and connections, and I’d like to share some of my thoughts about how I knew her and what that might mean for us as we celebrate her life. 

The Bible tells us that God created us in his own image. I think that means that he created us as beings of relationship … relationship with others, with ourselves, and with God. We grow, develop, and mature within relationships. We experience some of the deepest of what it means to be human within our relationships. And in times of pain, which this surely is, we are supported and sustained by those to whom we are connected. 

Megan Nuttall was a student in one of my math classes when she was a ninth grader. I can’t say I knew her particularly well then. Like so many teachers, I experience frustration as 150 new faces troop through the door each year and the memories of all those special kids from years past fade a bit more. I imagine some of those former students are here today, and I’ll be a little embarrassed as I don’t remember names and faces. I guess they can take some consolation in knowing that they look different than they did as 8^th graders.

Megan might have become one of those memories for me, the beautiful smile in the second row of my classroom, except for another connection. Some of you know my friend Liz McGrew, and I’ll tell you a secret about her: she likes to gab, and one of her favorite topics is her children. Liz and I have a tradition … once every few weeks, she walks past my classroom on the way out the door.  We’re both in a hurry to leave, and we have “just a minute” to talk. Then, an hour or more later, we’ve solved the world’s problems, shared our professional and personal struggles … I think that we might even have complained once to each other about something the school district was doing.

One of the favorite topics for those gab sessions has been what I came to know as “The Chronicles of the McGrew kids.” Through the Chronicles I kept up with Megan’s travels to Minnesota, her gymnastics, and her relationship with some guy named Zach. I’ve followed Aaron’s progress through high school and college, his running, and his music. And I noticed that Megan Nuttall kept popping into the story. Sometimes playing this role, sometimes that, but never far from the center of the Chronicle. Even though I hadn’t spoken to her for a number of years, I somehow felt like we’d kept in touch through her appearance in the Chronicles. Instead of “the smile in the second row,” Megan and I stayed connected a bit.

A little over a year ago, my wife … then fiancé … and I were planning our wedding and were seeking someone to play some music for our ceremony. I knew from The Chronicles that Aaron and Megan had done that sort of thing, and I thought it would make the event even more special if the music were done by two former students to whom I felt a connection. We asked, they agreed, and we arranged to meet at our house to choose the music.

When they arrived, it was apparent that Megan was a little tense. Former teacher, and a math teacher at that. Then they chose a piece and began to play. It was immediately apparent that we had a problem.

We didn’t think about the fact that the piano in our house hadn’t been played for a very long time. It isn’t fair to say it was out of tune. It had no tune at all. Here we had this beautiful, melodic flute music flowing through our house. And poor Megan playing this awful-sounding piano. She’d hit a particularly sour note, and you could feel everyone cringe. At one point, she even turned and said in self-defense, ”That WAS the right note. It really was!”

And then something wonderful happened … we all started to laugh. In fact, it wasn’t laughing as much as it was giggling. They’re playing these beautiful, serious, spiritual songs, and we’re all snickering like little kids in the back row every time she’d play the right note and get a clinker instead. At one point Aaron even made his flute out-of-tune in an attempt to match the piano, but it really was hopeless. We just giggled our way through the rest of the songs. And if you want a funny image … imagine poor Aaron in the middle of this. The flute is a difficult instrument to play when you’re laughing.

What a wonderful way to re-connect with Megan. And then, a few weeks later, Megan and Aaron added a delightful twist to our wedding reception by announcing their engagement.

I recall thinking then that it was going to be fun to have this warm, kind young lady continue to pop up on my radar screen. And last Sunday and Monday, as I tried to absorb the horrible news, I was tempted to think that a connection was lost, that Megan now wouldn’t be dropping into my life.

But as I thought about it during the next few days, I realized … that’s not true at all. Every time Becky and I re-play the beautiful recording Megan and Aaron made of our wedding music, Megan will surely be part of our lives again. Each time we recall our silly gigglefest, we’ll grin a bit, and Megan’s infectious smile will certainly be there. Whenever we look at those pictures that right now seem too difficult to bear, we’ll be transported to a special place in our hearts, and Megan will always be part of that place. Megan will indeed drop in on our lives, and when she does it’ll be at times of happiness and love that she helped to create.

What a magical character God gave to this relationship part of our make-up. We celebrate, laugh, and cry with the special people in our lives. And then … somehow … those people are always here, right in the center. It’s as though the connections become part of who we are.

I believe that Megan is encircled right now in Jesus’ arms, that she is cared for, and that she is safe. It’s left to us to seek to understand that which isn’t understandable, to seek a “WHY” that isn’t there, to see a hope that right now seems un-seeable. We can’t make sense of that which makes no sense.

God doesn’t promise to us the kind of insight that lets human logic reason its way through such unreasonable times. But he does make this promise to us. Jesus said, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you.”

“My peace …” Not peace that brings understanding, but better: peace that passes all understanding. Peace that can overcome our inability to understand. Peace that can quiet our fears.

And I think that part of the way he leaves his peace with us is through those relationships, those connections that somehow change who we are and can transport us to a place where Love can overcome what the world gives to us.

I believe that Megan has found God’s perfect peace. For those of us left to wonder, for Aaron’s parents and his family, for Megan’s parents and family, for all of us who were in some way connected to her, and most of all for you, Aaron … I pray for Jesus’ peace that passes understanding.