A Slightly Better Wife

Marriage.Homeschool.Motherhood

My Friend, Amy.

Amy Elizabeth Hild.
September 9th, 1987 – February 25th, 2015

Amy Elizabeth Hild

I’ve known Amy’s full name for well over 10 years, and I’ve never forgotten it.  She used to doodle it in her math notebook all.the.time.  She’d put fancy designs around her name and play around with different lettering.  She’d occasionally get called out for drawing, rather than looking at the board.  Amy later became a graphic designer.
It was apparent that this was her passion and gift, even as a kid.  How cool is that?
Amy was a year younger than me in high school, but we were in the same math class.  I’ve never been more grateful for my lack of math skills and dependence on a calculator.  It meant I got to spend an entire school year sitting next to Amy in Mr. Perry’s class at Clear Lake High School.
She was fun, she was honest, and she was beautiful.  She explained math to me in a way I could understand.  If I was stuck, she helped me, without judgment.  She did everything without judgment.
I never had any reason to be upset with her. I can remember one particular day when she gave me a picture of
herself.   Rather than the normal crappy school pictures this was a beautiful portrait that her parents took her to have
done.  She talked about singing in church and I remember thinking “Is there anything you DON’T do?”  I may have even said that out loud.  It didn’t make me jealous, but made me admire her even more.  She had so much talent, and she inspired me.
Last Wednesday was much like any other snowy day in Iowa.  We slacked a little on our traditional schooling and instead made tags to attach to a stack of sleds we bought to give away.
The kids were making their Random Act of Kindness tags as I supervised, taking pictures to blog about the experience.
They made a list of who they wanted to give them to, prayed over the list and for the people, and then went out delivering. Before I knew it they were having a little sledding party on the hill across the street.
Afterwards the kids and a neighbor mom ended up here, for treats and hot chocolate.  I silently praised God for our  neighborhood, and all the love and community we’ve found here.
I was distracted doing real life, and not checking my phone.  I love those moments.
We were living our day like a perfect tribute to Amy, before we even knew she was gone.  Amy was a good deeds do-er.  Yes, I made that phrase up, but it really does describe her.
After everyone left here I cleaned up and took a seat on the couch to “veg out” with my phone (it happens).  One of the first things I read on Facebook was this:

I yelled out a big “NO, NO, NO, NOT AMY!”

I worried that this was a mistake and felt bad about how it must have worried her family before they found out she was fine.  I sat like this for quite a while, before I realized how NOT FINE I was.  I was in absolute denial.  And I stayed that way, until this morning, when my husband and I attended Amy’s Celebration of Life.
I needed the closure, I needed the community. I am so thankful for all the people who were there, banned together in support for Amy’s family.
My heart ached for her fiancé, but by the end of the service, it just rejoiced.  He found Jesus through Amy.  How lucky he was to be so close to her and to spend all the days together that they did.  I think of all the experiences they had,  and I just smile.  Amy was an advocate for Jesus.  Her life was lived on purpose, with purpose.
 Her funeral was so large that, I kid you not, there were parking attendants directing traffic in the parking lot!
There was a room for overflow because the sanctuary was full, despite the staff/volunteers bringing in extra chairs, multiple times.  I mean WOW!  I can only hope to have a funeral where so many people come together to show support to my family, after I’ve passed.
Today as I sat down to start writing this I looked back at Amy and I’s Facebook messages to each other, dating way back to 2008.  I had forgotten all we’d been through and all we had talked about.  Now that she’s gone I can clearly see why we had some of those conversations when we did, even though at the time they didn’t seem like they would be so life changing.  They were.  For her and I both.  Amy didn’t use social media as a mask, it was a tool to her.  She was just as genuine online as she was in person.  She was a one of a kind.
I am forever grateful for getting to meet Amy Elizabeth Hild while she was on this Earth.  I’m grateful I was able to call her a friend, and I am grateful I was touched by her passionate spirit.  She taught me so much more than just some
silly math facts (sorry, Mr. Perry!).

Amy’s Obituary

Amy’s Blog

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