I met the Queen of Iowa, She was dying on a couch in the suburbs. And of all the things she was dying of, She was more alive than the others…

-- Andrew Peterson, The Queen of Iowa

The Queen of Iowa is a real person. I met her this past Saturday. Her name is Jody. Her story is tragic; she contracted HIV after being assaulted fifteen years ago. Her story is also beautiful; knowing full well that she had HIV, her high school sweetheart decided to marry her anyway. That was eleven years ago. Jody is now in what appears to me to be the last stage of her life. She can’t move. She can’t talk. She can just barely communicate single letters at a time. Her husband cares for her at their home here in the Cedar Rapids area.

It also ends up that Jody is a big Andrew Peterson fan. Over a year ago, as she started going downhill, a couple of friends arranged to have Andrew and his trusty sidekick Ben Shive flown to Iowa to meet her. They came, visited, sang her some songs. Out of that experience, Andrew wrote his song The Queen of Iowa, which he then recorded on his latest album, The Far Country. It’s a good song.

Last Saturday Andrew was in town with a bunch of his musical compatriots on the Behold the Lamb Christmas tour. In the afternoon, before the concert, he wanted to make a trip out to visit Jody again and sing her the song. So I (as the driver) got to go along as he and his friends Andy and Jill (Phillips) Gullahorn went out to visit her. (The local friends who had coordinated last year’s visit were there, too.) I was not prepared, and I doubt I could have really been prepared, for the emotions and power of that visit.

To even enter their house, you have to take off your shoes and leave them in the garage. (Can’t chance tracking some germs in.) Then, you have to do a thorough hand-washing before you come into the living room. Jody was lying on the couch, wrapped in blankets. She couldn’t really move, only could turn her head a bit. But she had a smile that lit up the whole room. She was so excited to get to see Andrew again and hear his music. She had made a “set list” of requested songs she wanted to hear. So Andrew and Andy pulled out their guitars, and started at the top of the list.

I think they sang for somewhere near 40 minutes. They started with Gather ‘Round, Ye Children, Come from Behold the Lamb. It was a treat to hear that simple version: two guitars and three part harmony, all in the intimacy of a living room. Jill sang Labor of Love, also from Behold the Lamb. I doubt I’ll ever hear a more beautiful performance of that song. Words can’t really do it justice. Jill sang another song or two of hers. We were all choking up as Andrew sang Lay Me Down, which contains these poignant lines, even more meaningful in this setting:

When you lay me down to die, I’ll miss my boys, I’ll miss my girls, But lay me down And let me say goodbye to this world. When you lay me down to die, You must remember this: When you lay me down to die, You lay me down to live.

There were a few times during the visit where Jody began to cough, and her body was just wracked with pain. It was difficult to sit there and see it, knowing that there was nothing that we could do but pray and watch as her husband held her and comforted her. Then the pain would pass, and as she regained her strength her smile would come out again.

Saturday’s visit was a moving experience; one that will stick with me for a long, long time. We insulate ourselves too much from pain and death here in America. Last Saturday’s visit was a vivid reminder of that to which I assent but often forget: that life is short, that death will reach us all, but death is not the end.

Parting is the price, it is the price that I must pay To harbor far beyond the Havens Grey.

-- Andrew Peterson, The Havens Grey