Matthew Burnette, Staff Writer

Back in June, I wrote an editorial honoring my very good friend Jim. He had been having a tough year up until that point and I wanted to do something for his birthday to hopefully lift his spirits.

Unfortunately, Jim passed away peacefully on Dec. 30 after a multi-year cancer battle.

I could probably fill our entire paper with memories of my friend and what he’s meant to my life, but I’ll try to sum it up as best I can in the space allotted.

I first met Jim around 15 years ago at First UMC Woodbury after I had returned from a brief church-going hiatus in my teenage years.

We started to get to know each other as the weeks passed and church started slowly moving its way up my priority list.

Jim decided to start a Sunday School class for older teenagers/young adults, and I told him I would like to be a part of it.

He taught the class and would often incorporate stories from his life during our allotted 45 minutes.

After a multi-year career in law enforcement and decades of life lived, a guy collects some good stories to tell.

Some of them were fun and interesting to listen to and others would make you think while, more often than not, teaching you something.

On several occasions, I remarked to him that he should sit down and let someone record him recounting some of his stories for a book, but he was always quick to say that it wasn’t something he was interested in.

My assumption was that his humility kept him from wanting to draw attention to himself, and that may have been part of the reason, but it wasn’t until much more recently that I realized after browsing an online newspaper archive some of the horrific things that he had to witness during his career.

It amazes me how someone who was constantly exposed to the worst of the worst managed to be one of the best of the best.

I learned a lot from Jim during those years. He never preached down to anyone or made them feel bad about the mistakes that they made.

Instead, he taught by example what it meant to be a good Christian and a good man. Never loud or domineering, just inquisitive and always willing to listen.

We talked on the phone a lot and the conversations would last anywhere from thirty seconds to thirty minutes.

He’d talk about what he had going on, and I would talk about what I had going on. He always had this keen sense when I would have something on my mind that I wasn’t sharing.

He wouldn’t force me to talk about it but instead just let me know he has an open ear if needed, an invitation I almost always accepted.

For the last several years, Jim battled Multiple Myeloma, an incurable but treatable form of cancer.

Even on his worst days, he always wanted to hear about how I was doing and what was going on in my world. I often wonder if that was his kindness on full display, a way to take his mind off his own struggles or a combination of both.

Every time we would get to the end of a phone call he would say “We’ll talk to you later,” and I would respond “I look forward to it, Jim.”

“Me too,” he’d say before hanging up.

The last time I talked to Jim was on Christmas. I had called to wish him and his wife Lucia a good holiday and exchanged festive pleasantries with her before Jim got on the phone.

It was one of our shorter conversations. I could tell he wasn’t feeling great, so I told him I just wanted to say “Merry Christmas,” so he thanked me and wished me one back.

Instead of our typical closing exchange, Jim said to me “I’ll see you on the other shore.”

The only thing I could think to say was “Okay.”

After getting the news that Jim passed away, I started to think about that final conversation.

I hope I get to make it to that other shore, though selfishly I’d like for it to be farther down the road, and I know that I’ve got a better shot than I did before meeting Jim.

I gladly give God the glory for everything in life, but part of that is thanking him daily for picking a guy like Jim to take a guy like me under his wing.

There are a lot of people I hope to see and talk to on that other shore.

But today, I’m mostly thinking about that conversation I’ll get to have with my friend Jim.

I’m looking forward to it.