All the air left the room and I couldn’t seem to suck in a breath.
“She what?”
“Morgan, Cassie died.”
“What?! No, that can’t be right. She was getting better.”
“She took a turn and she passed away.”
“No, that’s the wrong ending. That can’t be right. She was supposed to get better, go home, hug her husband and snuggle her babies.”
Shocked.
Torn.
Gutted.
Undone.
My mind reeled back to the first conversation I ever shared with Cassie. I remembered sitting on the floor of my old, empty apartment while we chatted, five years ago this November.
We connected over our love for Africa and our desire to see kids empowered through education. We talked about the need for new systems in missions.
I was immediately impressed with the calling on Cassie’s life and her audacious tenacity in following that calling to Uganda.
There was no question for Cassie about what she was made to do.
Thankfully, a short time later Cassie decided to partner with The Cause and we got the honor of working with her.
I’m deeply grateful.
She was one of our first partners, and she helped remind us of why we do this ministry. She told me how much she appreciated the fact that we do things relationally at The Cause, and how much that mattered to her. She boldly challenged us, as we grew to stay connected with our partners.
She was always the first person to recommend The Cause to others, and we are so grateful for the people we know because of her constant advocacy.
Cassie’s heartbeat for children. The fact that she died just two weeks after Zemira’s birth is gut wrenching.
She personally knew every child she worked with, their name, their story, their hopes, and their dreams. The details of their lives mattered, not just to God but to Cassie. She was their advocate.
Her death still feels wrong on every level.
After my friend told me the news I got on Facebook for the first time in days. It felt like someone socked me in the gut when I realized that there was an unread message from Cassie. She was worried about the hospital bills and trying to figure out funding.
Shocked.
Torn.
Gutted.
Undone.
“I’m sorry Cassie,” I whispered out loud. “I’m sorry I missed this, and I’m sorry that you were so concerned.”
This is why we are raising funds for a Partner Emergency Fund. So that we can answer this type of request with a, “yes, what do you need? It’s already here for you.”
But I didn’t get to answer Cassie’s message that way. I didn’t see it until it was too late.
Our staff cried, prayed, and jumped into action when they heard the news about Cassie. Cassie’s Memorial Fund was created so people could give tax-deductible gifts with no administrative fee, partners rallied, and the board started moving.
I’ve always hated it when a TV show, movie, or dream had the wrong ending. To me the sad ending was the wrong one. I want every story to have redemption, resurrection, life and justice, but that isn’t always the case.
So, from a young age, I started making up my own endings. Once, my husband and I hated the ending of a sitcom so much that we actually went online and found alternative endings. Turns out we weren’t the only ones who thought that the ending was terrible.
Cassie’s death feels like the wrong ending. We have the assurance of knowing that she is with God, and that she is in a better place than we can imagine. But right now it feels awful. We don’t get to change the fact that Cassie died, and that her time here was cut short.
So, I keep praying, “God, how do we change the ending when Cassie’s life on this earth is over?”
When I pray I feel God’s gentle answer. We get to change the ending for the individuals that Cassie cared about.
We get to care for the things she cared for, and advocate for children the way that she did.
I know that, even though Cassie’s time on this earth is over, her life, ministry, and legacy are far from finished.
Our mission is to figure out how to care for Stephen, Talitha, and Zemira, and to honor Cassie’s legacy, which I hope means giving thousands of children the redemptive gifts she gave.
Jesus.
Love.
Care.
Education.
