Twenty Years Without My Friend

Matthew Grosboll (October 28, 1977 - July 22, 1991)

Twenty years ago today I lost a best friend. He was fun, sanguine, energetic, sensitive, and committed to God. He died in a fiery plane crash with his father (Marshall), mother (Lillian), and 10-year-old sister (Christine). He was only 13.

Matthew and I became instant friends the first time I visited his home in Wichita, Kansas. I remember clearly that day. He was seated on a riding lawn mower and invited me to sit with him as we zig-zawed across acres of land that surrounded his home and the Steps to Life ministry led by his parents. The ride was fun. He was fun. I was immediately drawn to his outgoing personality.

Shortly after, our family moved from Arizona to Wichita. I saw Matthew every day at school, at church, and at the ministry where both of our parents worked. We became great friends. We were only seven weeks apart in age.

I have so many memories of time spent with him during the nine months that I lived in Wichita. There was the evangelistic series held by his father. He had to constantly be in the middle of the action. There was the Sabbath we sang special music and belted out the words to Joyful, Joyful We Adore Thee.

There was his 13th birthday party where we sent him on a treasure hunt to find his gifts.

There were the games of baseball where we, our sisters, and friends Nathan & Heather Stearman would kneel and pray before each game asking God to help us keep a Christ-like spirit while we played. He taught me how to "ice skate" in tennis shoes on ice-covered parking lots and on the frozen pond near his house. And there were the hours we spent on the swings talking about our lives, our dreams, our God, and the people we wanted to reach for Christ.

I remember how we both went to the same orthodontist that picked up patients in a limousine! We dreamed of it coming to pick us both up from school but it never worked out. He and his dad took me flying in his dad's private plane. We buzzed over the Steps to Life office and everyone ran out to wave at us! I remember also our arguments about whether or not the nearby river was the Arkansas river or the "Our Kansas" river. I insisted on the former and he on the latter. He thought Kansas was heaven on earth and would get defensive if anyone disagreed with him!

And then there was school. That year mom "homeschooled" Matthew and Christine, Nathan and Heather, one other teenage girl, and my sister and I in the living room of Mike & Helen Thompson's home. It was fun having school with my best friends. I remember Matthew's playfulness in school, his fascination with studying the bombing of pearl harbor for his history report, our discussions in Bible class, having him as a reading partner, and spending time drilling each other on our Bible chapter memorizations. He and Nathan were working on memorizing the entire Psalm 119! I still have the practice tape they both created. :)

That year Nathan graduated from the eighth grade. Here is our class at the graduation.

Matthew and I were very close. At times I was certain that we had feelings for each other though we never talked about it. I distinctly remember his reaction when I told him our family was moving to Tennessee. He avoided me and began to act strangely. He later wrote that he was heart-broken to know that we were moving. He said he would cry when he thought about us moving and Nathan going to academy, realizing he would have no more close friends around.

Then he wrote this:

"I have never had such good Christian fellowship in all my life and been so close to the Lord. Thank you Staci for helping me in this part of life. Thank for filling a spot in my life that I don't think anyone else could do. You have been a great blessing, support, and helper in my life for Christ. Thank you for filling this spot. I will never forget you for this."

Our family moved in June to Tennessee. We wrote back and forth. I even got a postcard from him while his family was traveling in the Netherlands. I missed him a lot.

And then the tragic news came that on July 22 while returning from a camp meeting in Washington state, their private plane flown by his father tragically crashed in a canyon. The entire family perished.

I was devastated. It was the first loss I had experienced of a friend. He was so young and full of life. He had so many dreams of one day becoming a pilot himself and working for God. And now he was gone.

I will never forget traveling back to Wichita for the funeral. Every where I walked there was a memory of him. I remember going to the Sabbath school class we had both attended and hearing the teacher appeal to us young people to carry on the work Matthew could no longer do - to win some souls in his memory.

That challenge has never left me. In the twenty years that have passed I have labored for many souls and seen many precious ones baptized. But could I have done more? Twenty years have passed. I never expected it would be this long before I would see my friend again. How much longer? Am I doing enough to hasten Christ's return?

Twenty years ago I said goodbye to a dear friend. I pray that very soon I will see him again. It is going to be so much fun exploring heaven with him. I can picture him wanting to meet everyone and inviting me to come along. I look forward to catching him up on what we sought to do for God after he was gone.

That day cannot come soon enough. I miss my friend and can't wait to see him again!