The Strongest Person I've Ever Met

"Many people will walk in and out of your life, but only true friends will leave footprints on your heart."
-Eleanor Roosevelt

I met John sometime in fourth grade. We had just moved to Iowa. I was nine, foreign, and scared, and for a small child, that's a horrible combination. Ask anyone. I remember walking into that classroom for the first time after Christmas break. I could feel every pair of eyes in the room piercing right through my body and hitting the door behind me. The feeling wasn't pleasant, and neither were the many days I spent at home by myself, wishing I was back in Illinois.

This was about the time John came into my life. I vaguely remember running around in his yard while there was still snow on the ground, yet spring was clearly on its way in because we weren't wearing more than sweatshirts and pants. It was in fifth grade, however, when the fun really began to start.

John and I go to the same church, a.k.a. the best church in the world, which means we were in the same Confirmation class, which definitely means that you heard about us: we were the dynamic duo that never lost a single dartball match to anyone. We beat the "upperclassmen" when we were in fifth and sixth grade, and completely annihilated the "underclassmen" when we were in seventh and eighth grade. And after finally paying him back with the Mountain Dew that I had owed him for months, something began to "click."

But high school brought about a change. From the moment he stepped out onto the football field, John was meant to kick field goals. At that time, high school football didn't have much to say about extra point kickers, but a new age dawned when John kicked the first PAT of the season at Lawton-Bronson. It sailed through the uprights, almost perfectly in-between them as a matter of fact, and he jogged back to the sidelines, being swarmed by teammates of all shapes and sizes. This was before he started his huge lifting "project," so you can just imagine what it must've been like for a small freshman to be congratulated by 250-pound linemen. From that day on, John was something of a celebrity, being the smallest and youngest starter on the varsity squad.

Over the next few years John rose in popularity at Galva-Holstein high school. His many talents gained him many friends. I distinctly remember a certain jazz band saxophone solo that brought a roar of recognition and approval from the crowd our freshman year, bringing some of them to their feet as they applauded. It was the talk of the cafeteria for a couple days. And all the while our time in high school grew ever shorter.

And then came senior year. A year that brought us a certain Swede, saw the world power Galva-Holstein guy's basketball team lose a potential state birth game to Laurens-Marathon, and ushered out a class that included a rock star, a state track champion, an animal lover, and everything in between. This was the year of The Dark Knight. This was the year Roger Federer won one of the longest Wimbledon finals in history. This was the year that the first black president reigned over the United States of America. This is the year John Lorenzen became my best friend.

Looking back, I find that I was somewhat of a hermit all throughout school. I spent a lot of time at home and rarely talked much, or rather, rarely said anything worthwhile, at school. Yet John introduced me to something - a world previously unknown to me: a world of action. There was a time that we were chased by two deranged Hispanics around Holstein for at least half an hour until we finally lost them, breathing heavily and visibly shaking with adrenaline while we sat in my car and recovered. I climbed to the top of the Holstein elevator in the black of night and watched as the stars in the midnight sky smiled down upon us with their untold years of wisdom. I gained a sense of night vision due to the many games of Capture the Flag and hide and seek in the dark that regularly left participants bruised, bloody, and out of breath. I was introduced to the musical world of jazz band because of John, and as the trips got longer, we experienced nothing less than snowball fights, chocolate milk overdoses, first place finishes, and intense games of Hearts and 500. (Which, I'm happy to say, I won almost every time).

I've never had a friend like John. As it turns out, he's not the arrogant, self-centered know-it-all some believe him to be. And truth be told, he is capable of talking about things other than guns and Republicans being better than Democrats. Yes. John has feelings. He carries emotions with him wherever he goes, but doesn't show them often. Believe it or not, John has experienced heartbreak, loss, and rejection. So what do I like about him? Simple: the strength he shows through all of these experiences. The lessons he learns from each and every situation. He takes his mistakes, the few he ever commits, and turns them into stepping stones to making himself a better person. Instead of losing his head when things go wrong, he holds on tighter to what he knows and understands to be true and right. Sadness does not set up camp in John's mind. Instead, a willingness to help others rules over his life with a firm yet gentle grip. The smiles he has brought to this world, the tears of joy, the laughs of purest happiness - there are simply too many to count. Why? Because John believes in something that few others do: the general good that dwells within us all. He gives us a chance and then patiently pushes us to be the best that we can be. He gives us strength to achieve what we cannot accomplish on our own. His potential is boundless, but instead of keeping it all for himself, he gives us the drive to continue on. He shares that strength with everyone, and yet still has enough left over to take control of his own life. He's not just physically powerful. It's more than that. There is a need somewhere in there: a need to set an example of good in this world - to be a light in this dark age. His strength is what allows him to shine brighter than any other light I've known.

I've heard a saying that an object is only as strong as its weakest point. It was probably in physics. GROSS. But there's a certain truth in that. Our weaknesses are what define us. When it comes down to the wire, how we handle moments of crisis and unpredictability reveals the truth about our character. I wonder how the author of that statement would react if he or she met John. Does John have a weak point? I've not encountered one yet, and I don't expect to be finding any anytime soon.

For Christmas, John made me - no, he didn't give me, he made me - a cross that I now wear around my neck every single day. Mind you, this isn't some flimsy cross of plastic or wood. No no. Try steel. A welded cross of steel hangs around my neck every day, strengthening the bond that we already have and promising to only grow stronger as time goes on. Its presence mirrors the strength of its maker, reminding me of everything he's done, and will continue to do, for me. For everyone in his life. It's brought John's influence to a whole new level.

I guess true friends don't really leave footprints on our hearts. They do more than that. They shine as an ever-burning beacon of hope in a world of chaos and unrest. They create light in our darkness. So thank you, John, for walking with me through life's troubles. Thank you for giving hope when all else seemed lost. Thank you for shining stronger than any light in my life. You truly are the strongest person I've ever met.