I was trying to choose a font to use to type this speech up on my iPad and I wanted it to be something clear and easy to read. Then I came across the font titled, “Loved by the King." it is not easy to read. The letters are kind of skinny and a little bit quirky… so it felt appropriate. “Loved by the King,” it is.
I met Avery when she was 9 at her first gymnastics summer camp. The first couple of days of camp were plagued with one thunderstorm after another. Which is excellent when you’re running a camp for little girls, sleeping away from home, missing their moms. In case you weren’t aware, Avery was also afraid of storms. But Avery was also resourceful, and managed to take comfort in the dorm room of the two coaches staying next door. Me… and Coach Siri. I remember talking to Bridget on the phone during one of the storms. I had spoken to a lot of Mom’s over my many years as the designated “dorm mom” of gymnastics camp. Most of the time, it was me comforting the mom, reassuring her that her daughter was in good hands and that she would be just fine. Bridget, was different. She was reminding me, that her kid was fine. Avery would be nervous, but if she stayed busy, she’d be okay. But she wasn’t without sympathy… “if she’s really scared, I can come and get her,” she said. And I remember thinking… wow, that’s refreshing.
We spent a lot of time together that week. Whenever it was dorm time, Avery and her roommate found a reason to come chat, sit on the bed and goof around. It took a little longer to get them to go to bed, but we didn’t mind. There was something really special about her, and I couldn’t put my finger on it.
What I didn’t know then, was that Avery had a bible tucked away in her dorm room desk. I wouldn’t find that out until her funeral… 15 months later.
Between Avery’s first camp experience and her last day of practice, we got to know each other pretty well. GymHawks had just started the summer Avery came to camp so our enrollment was really low. I coached almost all of the classes by myself and some classes only had one gymnast. Avery was one of those kiddos who got to work with me one on one. And those were some funny practices, let me tell you.
Keep in mind, I still did not know about Avery’s faith through any of this. What I did learn, however:
Was that she had an older sister named Jadrian (literally the coolest name I’d ever heard) and a baby brother named Brody.
She was an avid clogger… and from the sounds of it… pretty good at it too.
She was also in swim and what seemed like a dozen other activities.
She talked about her cousins and her siblings and her mom, and I just sat there and listened to this child who clearly loved deeper than most children do.
I remember one conversation in particular where she was watching the college girls practice and she seemed particularly worried about a gymnast we called “Weber.” She was asking me all kinds of questions about whether or not Weber was okay, why her ankles were taped, and is she going to be able to compete this weekend?
That was the moment I realized… this kid knows things. She pays attention to the world and the people around her. She loves on them and has compassion flowing out of her.
Again… I didn’t know about her faith.
I didn’t know that she had written a letter to a little girl in a third world country with more wisdom and grace than a United Nations ambassador probably has.
I didn’t know she had started a bible study at her school.
I didn’t know she begged her mom to set up barracks in their dining room to foster Haitian orphans.
There were a lot of things I didn’t know about Avery while she walked the Earth.
What I knew was that she worked really hard in the gym.
She cheered on the other girls that were practicing with her.
She got frustrated with herself whenever she couldn’t master something.
She wanted to get her cartwheel on the beam.
Avery desperately wanted to make the GymHawks Team and go to competitions wearing a purple leotard.
Avery died before she got to compete for the GymHawks, but they took her with them everywhere. For the first handful of years, the girls who knew her wore ribbons with Avery’s initials on them for their meets. They believed, as I did, that they had a guardian angel looking out for them.
Like many people, I learned about Avery’s faith through her Mom’s blog. Something that Bridget and I have in common is our need to heal through writing. As I followed along in the months after Avery’s passing I learned more about her and her relationship with Jesus. I was floored… but not surprised. Girlfriend got her wisdom from somewhere. And everything I had witnessed about Avery seemed to just make sense.
God prepared Avery to leave this Earth, and while the rest of us could have never been prepared, he showed her how to leave us bread crumbs, or a map, of what to do next.
He gave Bridget the courage to share her heart and her story and allowed her to connect with so many people who were hurting.
He left trinkets to be found, like Avery’s letter to Alphonsine, at exactly the right moment when grief seemed too much to bear.
He sent Bridget to Haiti, and planted the seeds of the Avery House, a larger and perhaps more practical version of the dining room barracks Avery hoped to build.
When Bridget decided that the Avery House was something we could manifest, hundreds and thousands of people heard Avery’s story and came to help “build” this home for girls. Through 5K runs, Bingo Nights, Concerts and other fundraising events, the world heard about the little girl who’s last words to her mama were, “You know mom, I really am a God girl.”
In 2018, when the Avery house was opened, God sent me to Haiti with Bridget. And I say God sent me because there was no way, my life could have lined up any better to travel that far in that season of my life. God knew I needed it. Bridget teased me that when we were getting ready to travel, I asked no questions. Evidently, my heart was incredibly still. I had no reservations. To this day, I don’t remember ever having less anxiety than when I was on that trip. No cell phone, no internet for 9 days… it was the most free I had ever felt.
There was one night when the entire group of us was sitting in the living room. There were our missionary hosts, ourselves and no less than 10 Haitian children who had been abandoned for one reason or another. It was Easter. We had just had dinner and circled up in the living room to worship. We sang songs in English and songs in Creole and as an orphaned toddler fell asleep on my lap I took stock of the moment I was living in. It was perfect. There was nothing but Joy and love for the Father in that room. As we were lying in bed that night I remember saying to Bridget, “think of all the collective heartbreak and the trauma and the tragedy that had to take place to give us that perfect moment.” It still gives me chills.
And that’s only one example of the way that Avery has brought people together to live in fellowship, to speak His word and His truth and to help bring unending grace and love to the pain that infiltrates this world.
She said once, “if everyone knew about Jesus, they wouldn’t feel lonely or afraid anymore.”
I don’t know if any words have ever carried so much weight for me. In times that I have felt complete despair, Avery’s words have lit the path to healing for me, and for so many other people. I know a lot of people who have been called back to their faith or been introduced to God for the first time because of hearing Avery’s story… and I think that, as long as we continue to tell it, we’re doing exactly what she and God planned together.
I think they both knew that Bridget would go to the ends of the Earth to honor her daughter. They knew that in her passing, a revolution was about to take place. A cosmic shift in the hearts and faith of this little town that created a ripple effect all the way to the shores of Hispaniola.
10 years ago today, Avery skipped out of the Williams Center at the University of Wisconsin-Whitewater (truthfully, her coach told me she was skipping out with her friends) and moments later, made her entrance into heaven. Of course she was skipping. I can’t imagine Avery entering heaven any other way. So tonight, I encourage you to feel all the feelings that may be going through your mind and your heart. It’s okay to be sad and to grieve what we’ve all lost, and balance that with joy for having known her, and appreciation for the gifts she is continuing to bless us with each and every day. It is a give and take. It’s a careful line we walk with grief remembering the pain but also cherishing the joy and celebrating the good and miraculous things that are happening all over the globe. All because our God Girl, really was ready to fly away.
