The lesson: It’s all fun and games ‘til someone gets hurt

from

Lisa Brannack

Serving in Sopron, Hungary

Home congregation: Good Shepard Lutheran Church, Portland, OR

So it’s Friday morning and I roll out of bed for a full days set of classes. Fridays are especially difficult because I have 7/7 lessons, and the fun begins at 8 am. I am NOT a morning person (do I get a “oh-yea?”). So I shuffled to the bathroom and looked in the mirror and to my shock thought I was still dreaming Buffy style. My “face” certainly didn’t look like mine~it was all puffy and discolored, and my eyes were swollen and sunken in. Even my hands looked like plump, ripe oranges. Yet I couldn’t be dreaming because Buffy is now in syndication, and the fact I’m a Christian doesn’t jive with the whole face-changing demony line of thinking, but...

Feeling incredibly nauseous, I stepped out of my room to ask the porter if I could use the phone to call my supervisor. Kati, the porter, looked at me as if I were an alien and shouted, “Oh, my…what is wrong with you?” Apparently she also ran out of pleasantries. So, I just went with it. “Yea, I’m not feeling that good. Can you call the school and leave a message that I won’t be able to teach today?” The next thing I knew I was packing a bag to go to the hospital.

What’s going on here? Well, if you’ve been reading any of my newsletters, the name Jenny should probably be circling around in your mind right about now. And of course you’d be right on target. Anywhere there has been “action” of any kind, we’ve been two-peas-in-a-pod. Poor Rob (Lindsey, my supervisor) never knows what to expect when he comes for a visit to Sopron! It’s always an adventure…He always plans to stay overnight just in case.

This time, Jenny and I had been playing catch behind the Kollegium on a few different occasions, so when I say that it’s like playing “catch” with a female Roger Clemmens, I’m not exaggerating one bit. I have to really concentrate when we’re playing for two reasons. Both of which, because I failed to do this last time, landed me in the hospital with head trauma, a.k.a severe concussion. The first would be her deadly accuracy and the second~her 80 mph throws to the face. No biggies for me on an ordinary day, but last Tuesday Jenny came in my flat, shook me gently and woke me from a dead sleep to play a fun, little, game of catch.

The porter, Balint, was outside watching as well as one of the religious teachers, Kati, and a few others. I love Balint because he likes to play “Dad” and take care of me. He is very generous with the fatherly advice and guidance. So, Jen and I are throwing back and forth and he’s getting a bit anxious and asks Jenny why she keeps throwing the ball toward my face (I was in a squatting stance). It’s just too much of a language thing to go into why the main objective in throwing a softball is too throw it exactly where she was throwing it. They don’t play too much softball here in Hungary. Of course, the other unmentionable is the fact that Jenny’s throwing, fielding, etc… has injured more girls than I care to mention, and that alone is a major deterrent in recruiting new blood to play with The Big Bad.

I threw the ball to Jenny and had my glove out ready to catch hers. Balint, nervous, asks me a question so I turned a bit to look at him just as the softball traveling at the sound of light hit my glove. The softball landed off my glove and Bam! hit me in my right eye, knocking my glasses right off my face. The word softball in and of itself is a misnomer because “Ouch!” really doesn’t give the feeling of being hit with a softball in the face justice. Oh! Mom, I’m sending you my broken frames…

On the same note, just last weekend Jenny and I were watching our Sopron baseball team get creamed by a Budapest team with two other girls from our softball team and the coach, Mickey. We all (well, only me) had the giggles and said to the girls, “You know, the reason why I am the way I am is because I got kicked in the head by a horse when I was nine.” That got everybody cracking up. So when Jenny asked me how I felt Wednesday and Thursday, and I couldn’t answer her because I couldn’t remember, she flipped out. “What do you mean you don’t remember?!” What’s even more shocking to me is that I must have been walking around last week on “auto pilot.” I could have been delirious and everyone would have just thought, “Oh, that’s just Lisa.” Scary! No one else saw any signs of head trauma. So in essence, my goofy absent-mindedness was “perfectly normal” for them!

While wrapped up in my own menial drama, I didn’t realize that someone I knew, someone I loved would alter my life forever. I can’t believe that I am even saying this because I really can’t believe it myself. It is Monday, April 25, 2005 and I went back to teaching today; well, sort of. You know, in an absent-minded Lisa/professor kind of way. I am still experiencing some dizziness, nausea, and other stuff from the concussion, but these symptoms pale in comparison to how I would feel after reading my email. After opening my inbox, I soon learned that my best friend, Jerri-Lynn Smith, died on Saturday.

I would rather chose to get struck by a dozen of Jenny’s fast balls, then to read that horrifying email again. I sat in the teacher’s szoba and remained still as I read the screen. Then I started crying uncontrollably. I kept thinking I could be misreading the message. So I read it again, over and over. If you have been reading my newsletters, or you went to my church, you know how much Jerri meant to me. A black eye will heal fairly quickly, but the pain I feel right now of having lost my friend is just too overhwhelming for me to bear.

The only thing I could do was pray. I doubt if Jerri can necessarily hear my cries; I mean, she has to pick out her new furniture, crystal (she loved crystal!), dishes, books, and all this new stuff for her new home. And of course, one mustn’t forget the whole Yee-haw! I get to meet God thing! And of course there’s catching up with family and friends… I bet she has her hands full. Thinking about that makes me smile because the Christian in me knows what a better gig Jerri got than me. So since she is probably busy getting settled in I thought I would ask Jesus to tell her that I love her. And please tell her that I miss her so much. Afterward, I felt a little better so I don’t think He minded being my messenger.

There’s not much more to say than I love you, Jerri. She knew that; I told her all of the time. I told her how much she meant to me and to everyone else she touched. She was a vibrant, boisterous, kind, and generous “goofball,” and simply my best friend. She prepared me for this mission and I will be eternally grateful. I lived with Jerri for a few months while waiting for my paperwork to go through to Hungary. We often found ourselves in day-long devotionals, followed by watching our favorite movie (Joshua) and enjoying a tasty glass of Jerri’s Chateau La Box (that’s faux French for Jerri’s favorite vintage). Whenever I said thank you for anything she always responded with “my pleasure.” Actually, the pleasure was all mine, Jerri. So, save me a seat, Thelma, ‘cause we’re gonna have a great ride when I see you again…

In loving memory of my best friend Jerri-Lynn Smith~

Lisa