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Have you ever tried to catch fireflies in a bottle so you can enjoy the wonder of their illumination later? As a kid, my family often traveled to the South to visit relatives where fond memories were formed over doing just that. But life is short and swift and just like the brief flicker of fireflies, some of the best times are difficult to capture. And I don’t know about you, but the passing of time seems to fly by faster as I age. The ability to grasp time and hold it still is impossible, yet it doesn’t dimmish my yearning to do so.  Even holding onto precious moments grows increasingly more slippery.

So perhaps that’s one reason why the recent loss of my baby brother, Philip, was extra hard on me. It’s part of the reason that his death hit my heart with a glaring revelation to the reality of just how fleeting life is. And the more that I considered the flickering memories of him that remained, the more I realized how hard it was for him to hold onto joy in his life.

He had been a happy little kid who loved nature, flowers, and going to church when he was young. But as he grew into adulthood, the choices he made darkened the light of his faith in God. Philip began to flit through life in a seemingly chaotic and random manner lighting up here and there with a flicker of happiness that darted away just as quickly. But of more concern to me, was his increasingly tenuous faith in God. At some point in time, any remaining evidence of the light of faith had been unplugged, disconnected, and darkened by the choices he’d made. Being aware of that laid heavy on my heart even more as I mourned his passing.

Ironically, as I considered some aspects of Philip’s fluctuating faith, my character, Elise, came to mind. The parallel of his wavering faith is much the same as what happens to Elise in the sequel to the Buzz @ Chicky-Pie’s Café. Realizing the similarity was uncanny. Especially since it was written a year before my brother passed away. In this upcoming novel that continues Elise’s story, you’ll see her face some new adversities. While navigating through a new mountain of challenges her faith begins to waver and she tries to dull the pain with medication. This leads to a greater instability that causes havoc in her relationships and further weakens her faith. Along the way, God gives her an important directive, yet her obedience to what she knows she must do continues to wobble with an unsteady resolve. Her battle to catch a break from the stress and pain she’s experiencing seems futile. But something catches her heart with sobering attention. Something that will not only lead her to a steadfast faith but will bless many others in an effective and redemptive way.

Wouldn’t it be nice if I could just re-write my brother’s story to have a happy ending? Unfortunately, unlike the story of a fictional character, my brother’s story wasn’t something I could edit to make it better. And considering the uncertainty of my brother’s eternal resting place, it  had a tough ending that I couldn’t fix. But as my older brother, Bill, and I were searching for any valuables or mementoes in Phil’s apartment in Florida, I discovered something that brought joy to the close of his life’s light.  And it came at the most critical moment.

Several days before flying to Florida, I was assigned the honor of giving the key message at Philip’s memorial. It was a daunting yet blessed job to prepare for in many ways. Given the knowledge of his agnostic position in his latter days, there were folks who had practically ordered me not to include anything of a religious nature. But God was clearly telling me to follow His lead not theirs. Still, I struggled with how I would present a message that didn’t deny Philip’s lack of faith, while giving a hopeful message to those who attended. “After all,” I’d told the naysayers, “a memorial is for those who are left behind, not the deceased.”

So began my task of constructing a message that was both honest and redemptive of his seemingly lost salvation. Early into it, I felt God’s leading to craft a message about Relationship not Religion. I began writing about fond memories and anecdotes of catching fireflies with my brothers, then transitioned to things I would say to Philip if he were still here today. As I continued to prepare the message, I also searched for scriptures to be included. Along the course of it, I kept thinking that I should look at the book of Philippians since it mirrored my brother’s name. But somehow, I hadn’t done so. Time ran out and I told myself that what I had was enough. It’ll just be a small group of folks. No need to make it too long. Regardless I prayed that God would use what He’d given me and that at least 6 others would show up for the simple little service.

Packing a small carry-on bag with essentials, I decided not to bring my Bible  because of the heaviness of several framed photos and the weight it would add. Besides, I told myself, I’ve printed out my scriptural references.

We arrived in Florida the evening before the memorial and the next morning was when we’d gone to Philip’s apartment to search for any photos, mementos, or other valuables. Stunned emotions roiled within me as soon as we entered the place where my brother had lain for a week before being found.

As we were wrapping it up and the lingering stench of death began to overwhelm me with an urgency to leave, something caught my eye. Looking up to the top of a bookcase, something seemed to be sitting on it that I could only see the edge of. Reaching up to pull it down, I could tell it was some kind of open book. And indeed, it was! In fact, it was a Bible and it was wide open to the book of Philippians.

“Look what I found!” Calling out to my brother, Bill, he ran in to see what it was. Then I began reading the first chapter of Philippians. As I did verses seemed to jump out at me with a loud voice that said: This is for what is happening right now. These are words I want you to include in your message. One paragraph was also a clear vindication and encouragement to me to go forward with God’s message that day. Quickly underlining those seemingly highlighted words, I took that precious find with me as we locked up and left.

The moment came and we gathered inside a gazebo by the apartment’s swimming pool. Aside from my brother Bill, me, and my husband, exactly six other people did show up and blessed us with their anecdotes and memories of our brother. And you can bet your socks off that I used that Bible to read those enlightened scriptures in Philippians. Then, as I stood holding that Bible, it became a miraculous beacon and tangible sign of hope to all of us. A discovery that revealed he may have had remnants of faith still within him. It was almost as if God had allowed me to catch the firefly of light that had remained in my brother’s heart until the end.

My final comments included encouragement to everyone not to let the uncertainty of faith be their last moment in life. To accept God’s free gift of grace through faith, not religion, so that they might be joined with their loved ones of faith when their time comes. And while there were moments afterwards that hit me hard with grief, that miraculous find and the redemptive message given me that day glowed brighter as the days melted by. A stirring within my heart spoke a Romans 8:28 message to me. I knew God would use this difficult experience to enhance my witness to others more effectively than ever before. And displaying it with His signature style of affirmation, God placed someone next to me on our flight home who wanted to talk about spiritual matters—a young man who asked numerous questions about “religion”the whole flight back. It was the most amazing witnessing opportunity I’ve ever had, and he received it well. His name was Dave, and much like my character, Elise, he was spiritually flitting about in his understanding and commitment to God.

Guess he was another firefly looking to land somewhere safe.