Rodney Lynn Thomas passed this last winter. We’d been friends since around spring of 2000.

I remember the first day I met him. He had a strange limp and a loud laugh. When we met it felt as though we’d already been friends for years. I remember we worked hard that day getting my classroom ready.

I remember when we started hanging out playing guitars and drinking beer. My friend Lynn was a much better guitar player than myself, but he would act as though I had great skill.

Over the years we hung out often, drinking beer and playing guitars.

I remember the night I mentioned to Lynn I had a secret, but wasnt sure I should tell him. He said he would tell me a secret about himself and that way we would have each other in check.

My secret was I was dating a co-worker. Lynn’s secret was far, far more profound. I vividly recall standing in his kitchen, me leaning against the stove, him leaning on his refrigerator, calmly telling me he wore diapers and catheterized himself to urinate. Hearing the term Spina Bifida for the first time.

From that moment on I was a “Keeper of Lynn’s Secret” at work. Very few people knew.

I remember getting a frantic phone call telling me to come to his office quickly. He had defecated and did not have a fresh diaper with him. He needed to get home. I was told to walk closely behind him to his truck and then immediately throw out his desk chair.

I remember Lynn and I had a falling out. For months we didnt speak unless absolutely necessary. I remember Jim Foster telling us both to knock it off, put it behind us and move on. And we did.

I remember all the Christmas parties. Playing guitars in the chapel at Burritt on the Mountain.

I remember when his brother Tony died. How deeply Lynn loved Tony.

I remember Lynn wanted to do a podcast and interview friends. He decided, though, that I should interview him first. We talked for hours. I learned about Lynn’s life and how very difficult it was for him. And not just physically.

One of the things that struck me was that Lynn spent his life doing everything he could to appear what he called, “Normal.” While every kid in high school tried to be different and stand out, Lynn went to great lengths to appear normal. All Lynn really wanted was to be normal.

I remember when Lynn decided to move back home to his folks place. I remember him giving me his lawn tools and then giving away all of his furniture to a family he knew from church. How grateful they were.

I remember, what was for me, the first time Lynn had sepsis. He had been rushed to a hospital in Birmingham. I drove down to see him. I met the family in the waiting room. Jim Foster assured me Lynn would love to see me and walked me to his room. I remember Lynn being hooked up to so many machines. They had cut the entire length of his belly open. I remember Lynn was not at all pleased to see me. I turned right around and left. We would laugh about it later.

Lynn had more or less quit drinking before he moved home. Over time and distance we didnt see each other much, but did talk on the phone regularly and emailed a lot. We did manage to get together at Waffle House’s along I65. I remember Lynn liked the steak. And coffee and pie.

I remember when Lynn got baptized, his face beaming when we got there. He introduced us to Lenny and Squiggy. My daughter was aghast at the sight of Lynn carrying his pee bag around in church. For me it was amazing – all those years of keeping his “secret” seemed silly.

I remember when Lynn started writing. He sent me so many stories. He knew I liked to write and always asked my opinion on his work. At first it was crude. Misspellings, random capitals, bad grammar. But the story was always really good. Over time his writing became more adept. The grammar cleaned up, the concepts were in order. I realized my friend Lynn had matured into a really good writer and, like playing guitar, was clearly more skillful than myself.

I remember him telling me about how God had told him to reach out to a fellow named Sean Dietrich, who called himself, “Sean of the South.” Lynn was really anxious about it. I told Lynn if God was telling him to reach out he very much had to.

I remember how exited Lynn was about being friends with Sean. Lynn gushed about going to his shows.

I remember how concerned Lynn was about his mother. One of Lynn’s greatest worries was how devastated his mother would be if he died.

I remember this last fall when the Fosters determined to on vacation for a few weeks. I promised to check on Lynn regularly by phone. I would occasionally text Lynn to give me a SITREP, or situation report.

I remember being very troubled when Lynn didnt respond after a few days. I realized I didnt have his folks phone number. I wasnt sure what to do. I texted, emailed, called Lynn, hoping beyond hope maybe his phone had died.

I remember getting a call from Lynn, only to hear his older brother Robby telling me Lynn was in the hospital in an induced coma.

Ms. Foster (I cant bring myself to call her anything other than that – I would feel disrespectful) kept us informed of his state. I went to see him. I remember he didnt even really look like Lynn to me. He was mostly unresponsive. If he opened his eyes his family got excited, but to me they were blank. The stare of blankness.

When I left that day I thought for sure Lynn wouldnt make it through the night. There was no way someone could come back from that. I prayed as hard as I could that the Lord would free Lynn and his family from this. I prayed it would be the Lords Will that this family, one way or another, could be free of this suffering. They are good people, Lord, they love You so much, please end this one way or another.

I remember just a few days later getting a call from Robby saying, “Lynn’s back!”

The shock. The gratitude I felt that the Lord had made His decision.

Then my friend Lynn called. His mind wasnt quite up to snuff, and his voice was a bit rough, but it was Lynn. We joked a little. I told him I thought for sure I would never speak to him again. I told him I loved him. He told me he loved me.

Lynn and his family had a fantastic Christmas.

Then Lynn went back into the hospital. He sent me a selfie in the hospital bed, smiling.

His text said he didnt know it was New Years Eve. He said he had a great view.

A few days later I demanded a SITREP and got no response.

I remember a few days later Robby calling and telling me Lynn had passed.

I remember thinking the Lord had done it His way. Lynn was free.

My friend Lynn’s funeral was exactly perfect. So many people, so many friends. Andy Griffith references, a long winded pastor, himself devastated over the loss, and Sean Dietrich with local legends Three on a String playing good old-time music. I remember the picture of Lynn on the dais, that huge smile.

I remember my friend Lynn’s smile – I can still hear his big laugh.

I remember Lynn telling me he hated people telling him how inspirational his life was to them. People even had the gall to tell him that when they thought they had it bad, they just thought of him. He hated that.

So I never told him that. Never mentioned it.

But I’ll say it now.

Lynn, you were such an inspiration in my life. And I did, indeed, compare my troubles against yours, many, many times. I found myself lacking. Lacking in faith, lacking in loyalty, lacking in empathy. Your friendship was deeply felt, your love for your family was powerful. Your spirit was a giant beacon for God.

I’ll remember you, my friend.