Dear Christina
- Jessie Rogers
- Sep 13
- 3 min read
Letters Across Time
Dear Christina,
Charlie Kirk died yesterday.
A true, great, one-of-a-kind American hero, and as he described, “a happy warrior.”
He carried a bright torch everywhere he went, and he went everywhere!
You would have loved him.
So many of us feel deep loss, even if we never knew him personally. I am still trying to process not only what happened-the awful thing that happened to him, but what it means to me, and what changes are stirring in my heart and soul.
What should my life’s answer to this be? I feel a strange mix of sadness, emptiness and inspiration and sacred responsibility all at once.
I was sitting alone in my car when I got the news. I was parked outside of a Chinese restaurant…my fortune from my cookie read, “Don’t forget to say I love you.”
It started raining. I started crying. Maybe God and I were both crying.
I took a picture of the raindrops on my windshield and posted the picture, paired with the song “Reverie,” by Alexis Ffrench, and put three words: tears for charlie.
I’ve been playing that song ever since.
I tried to have a writing session in the library after I sat in that parking lot for a little while.
But when I sat at the table, after more tears had continued on my way there, I could only think more, cry more, stare out the window and give the reverence and reflection the weight of this tragedy deserved.
It didn’t feel right or even possible to just “get to work writing” on a project, or about anything, really, except him. I only got four words out on the page: Charlie Kirk died today.
For some reason, this has affected me pretty profoundly. I am still waiting on some of the details to surface, or maybe the fruit to spring forth.
Charlie’s life and death was a grain of wheat falling into the ground. A great harvest will result. He didn’t die in vain.
He is with Jesus now, but his beautiful young widow and their very small children are not.
So, that will ache and sting and ripple through them for years to come. Jesus, have mercy. Poor Erika!
And though I can’t carry Charlie’s torch now, I can bravely, and just as whole-heartedly carry my own.
His life and words and work were an example of giving your all to what you believe, running well with the mandate and never backing down-and, doing it all with a smile on your face and a dance in your steps.
Authenticity is freedom.
Never be less than yourself. Never do less than you can. Never do the work of someone else.
God has put a direct stamp on the seal of your heart, gifts, ideas, words, circle of influence, path in the world.
Set your face to Him, and set your hands to the task, the vocation, the purpose only you can fulfill. Lift up your voice. Paint your picture. Dance your dance. Raise your children in a home only you could dream up, decorate, make your memories in with your family.
Whatever it is, carry your torch-for the glory of God.
We’ve crossed over midnight, now. I must go to bed. I will say goodnight to my happy desk, with its Van Gogh paintings, coffee can filled with pens, a lamp, books, a floral ceramic vase with a gold-colored handle, and clear glass bowl of my “writing candy,” Werther's Original hard caramels in golden wrappers, and some research printouts on my wall-historical and portrait samples from the period of time from which I am writing my book, Agatha. (Early 1800’s) I hope you have read it and love it, by now.
Not everything in the world is dark tonight. There is always art, the moon in the sky, and the hope of a wild or colorful story to escape to in our imaginations. Whole worlds are built there, you know! Always keep your imagination alive. Feed it like you’re tending a fire that mustn’t go out. Protect it, use it for good. Create the good you want to see in the world-even in your own life.
God is our help. Rest in peace, dear Charlie. Rise up, dear Christina!
JM
“Reverie”:
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