standing with hope

It was our first Sunday at a new church. We walked into the YMCA not sure what to anticipate but knew we’d see some familiar faces, that was part of the reason we showed up there instead of anywhere else. We had our first foster son with us, who was just turning 6 months old. We’d taken him out of his carseat and carried him in.

As we neared the auditorium we were greeted by a man with a smile that instantly put you at ease despite his larger than life personality. He was genuinely inquisitive and excited to meet new people. He didn’t recognize us and correctly assumed we were new. Before he even told us his name he said, “Hey! What’s your story?! Your family looks like mine!” We briefly explained we were foster and adoptive parents. So were he and his wife. He pointed down to where his wife was sitting in the auditorium and we sat nearby, introducing ourselves to Kristina. Their two young sons were in the nursery.

Jeff didn’t know it at the time, but his initial greeting and recognition of our family structure made us feel at home, quickly. I know a lot of people will say that being a transracial family is just like any other family and it doesn’t matter what color any of us are. In many instances, this has not been our experience. We’ve been asked if we were babysitting or running a daycare or what country our kids are from. Or one of my favorites, “I’ve always wanted one of those (cute Black babies).” We’ve received looks and odd questions from random strangers.

If our kids were white, what are the chances the reactions would be the same? Slim to none.

Jeff and Kristina had been married 8 years and knew the commitment it took to navigate an interracial marriage. Kristina became a white mom raising two Black sons (later 3), making herself the minority in her household. Jeff’s love for others seemed to burst out of him whether he knew it or not and his large stature made it all the more noticeable. Not hesitant to wrap someone in a hug or say “I love you.”

In an interesting turn of events, our foster son left that week to be adopted by his aunt in Chicago, which we are eternally grateful for. While our home became empty by the next Sunday, their home gained another child. It just happened to be a child I knew before he was born. I know it’s cliche to say, “The Lord works in mysterious ways” but I don’t know how else to explain that. We showed up the next Sunday empty handed and they carried in their youngest son.

Even though you expect children to leave your home when you are a foster parent, the shift that happens once they are gone is hard to put into words. But Jeff and Kristina knew that. They’d been there. A few weeks later we showed up with our second placement, who would eventually become our oldest son. And they were just as ready to celebrate that and welcome him as they had been ready to mourn with us a few weeks prior.

And so our friendship continued to bloom. They invited us to their home, which was always looking like it came out of a magazine. Jeff was always bursting with new, artistic ideas, running his own photography business. He and Kristina were truly two creatives who had found each other and wanted to go where ever the Lord would lead them.

Free spirits focused more on the kingdom of God than the kingdom of the American Dream.

When our second placemet, who would later beome our oldest son, would leave our home 9 months later, we took him to the front of the church to be prayed over at the end of service. Shortly after our friends Paul and Michelle (also adoptive parents) began to pray, we felt more hands, it was Jeff and Kristina, and then more gathered around us. Before we knew it, we were surrounded in prayer. There’s something powerful about being wrapped in community of other people who have seen God work in similar situations in their own lives and will continually point you back to truth with love and grace and compassion.

There were three things I knew for certain whenever we were with Jeff. We would laugh, be asked challenging questions and be reminded of God’s heart for children who had experienced trauma and were left without families. And 99% of the time we ate delicious meals prepared by Kristina who had her own heart to share on these same topics.

I’m thankful that wherever Kristina and Jeff moved their family around the country, we never lost touch. And when they were in town we would gather at the parks to let our 6 boys run wild and explore. We took a camping trip to Hocking Hills in 2020 I don’t think any of us will forget. From the boys catching and trying to cook a crawdad to the realization that Jeff did not like getting dirty or bugs or other outdoorsy things you wouldn’t expect from a man who was able to capture the most beautiful shots of nature with his lens and spent three months living in a camper, traveling up and down the east coast with his family. So much laughter.

Jeff was all about love and he was also about justice. He had a deep understanding of how these go hand in hand. He wanted wrongs made right and he wanted accountability. While he was so incredibly kind, he also was not afraid to call you out or advocate for his kids. He didn’t have a problem challenging the thinking of others and having the Biblical basis to do so. And if he found out that the person doing the hurting was hurt, he ministered to them. He prayed over people in the grocery store, led by the Spirit. He spoke his mind to those who closely resembled the Pharisees and wiped the dust from his sandals when he was not welcome.

None of this means that Jeff didn’t hurt. He did and sometimes deeply. I think there’s no hurt like church hurt. It’s the reason so many have walked away and so many never even try.

Jeff died unexpectedly on January 14, 2023. His larger than life heart gave way. He stopped at a park between meetings after dropping his youngest son off at school. He climbed into an overlook to take pictures and collapsed. He wouldn’t be found for almost 24hrs. Kerry and I stayed up late in our kitchen that night he was missing terrified and confused. We realized almost all of our family photos in our home had been taken by him.

I texted with Kristina throughout that day and the night. Then the next morning, while at our son’s basketball tournament, some of the answers came through from Kristina. He had been found. He didn’t appear to have suffered. No signs of trauma or foul play. “It was as if he fell into the arms of God.” she would later say.

The week before he died I had made a list of those I wanted to guest write on my blog the first couple of months. I had the Jones’ written down but I also put on my calendar to call them because I wanted to process through logistics with Kristina, as she has done this before and is a prolific writer. I wanted to talk to Jeff about logos and site design, but he moved on to Glory before I dialed the phone.

The last time I saw Jeff with his family was the summer of 2021. I told him I had been thinking about starting a blog and he thought that was great. He was always one of the biggest supporters of my writing. He was a cheerleader anytime another believer used their artistic gifts and broke a mold. He said I should also think about a podcast.

We lost a trusted friend. Kristina lost her best friend and husband. Three boys lost their father, who led them like a mighty warrior through life. His mother lost a son and his sisters, their only living brother. Having recently been on a trip with Kristina and all our boys, the first without Jeff, it still seems very raw, 6 months later. I could write all day about how his death is tragic and the wake of hurt it has left behind. But this is where I’ll leave us.

When I think about Jeff and his fierce love for his family and Christ, here is what I know:

• Life is worth living and love is worth giving away
• Despite how many people hurt you, Jesus will heal you
• It’s okay to expect your kids to be in the world but not of the world, even in those awkward years
• It is good and necessary to fight for justice in and with the Church
• Following Jesus does not always equal a 9-5 job with a picket fence and no mess
• Following Jesus comes with a cost and we should expect suffering and battles
• No time is wasted pouring into your spouse and children
• Say “yes” to the adventures
• Know you are not always right and be open to what God wants you to learn from others who are different than you

This post is for you, the reader. It’s for me, to process great loss and to be reminded of many things. It’s for Kristina and the boys, as a reminder that Jeff is not forgotten and they will not walk this road alone. And it’s for our dear friend, Jeff. The dreamer. The believer. The creative. The father. The best friend. The jokester and prankster. His smile. His laugh. His memory and legacy. The man of God.

When I imagine Jeff in Heaven, I imagine folks gathered around him who he impacted and didn’t know it. And what I know for certain is he heard the words, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”