After bicycling mile upon mile, Joe Lapp could no longer keep pace with pals speeding into a sweeping curve of the country road.

Lapp looked ahead only to see the pack pulling farther away. Then he saw one rider peel off. It was his cousin, Glen Lapp, coming back for him.

Glen signaled for Lapp to pull up to his back wheel and into his slipstream. "Let's go! Let's go!" Glen shouted. Lapp drew close to Glen's bike and found the going easier.

That's how Glen was, Lapp said Sunday in a moving, pitch-perfect eulogy at the memorial service for his 40-year-old cousin.

"He wanted to have fun," said Lapp, 35, "but he wanted you to have fun, too. And he knew it would be the most fun if you could do it together."

In a more perfect world, Glen would still be with us. He would be lending a hand. He would be exerting himself and laughing. He would be leading by example.

But the world is far from perfect.

A giving extrovert

When gunmen ambushed a van carrying unarmed medical relief workers along a rugged Afghanistan roadside this month, Glen fell among the nine other bodies. And that quickly, the world was less perfect.

Hearing the stories shared at the service, I wondered how family and friends find strength to go on.

Although Glen was single, he was no loner. People found infectious his outgoing nature, passion for adventure, and delight in the world. They were drawn by his self-confidence, selflessness and caring ways. His death must leave them unmoored.

Glen hungered for experiences and friendships, not comfort and financial security. He came and he went, but he never failed to nurture relationships. He built bonds that time and distance couldn't sever.

John Williamson, a Mennonite Central Committee staffer who visited Glen in Kabul last month, recalled at the service how Glen always talked to the Afghan cooks and night watchmen at his compound and to the children playing in the streets. But Williamson also saw how deeply Glen missed folks back home.

Williamson said Glen's ideal assignment would have been work in Afghanistan that allowed frequent home visits. He said he couldn't put a finger on why, but he felt time with Glen was like being "on holy ground."

Unwavering heart

I think Glen represented one pole of human nature. He kindled love in his heart and wanted to heal the world's brokenness. He was a nurse and a teacher of English in places like Nepal and the Arizona desert. When hurricanes struck the Gulf Coast, Glen coordinated Mennonite Central Committee's response. Then he committed to two years in Afghanistan.

Occupying the other pole of human nature are the people who murdered Glen and his colleagues. With hard hearts they pulled triggers and turned their backs on the brokenness they created.

Most of us lie somewhere in between, and I can say for myself events move me toward one pole and then the other. Doubts and fears overshadow my inclination to love and share, and I need someone like Glen, who I knew in passing, to show that shadows can be pushed back.

On hearing Glen was slain, I felt darkness had eclipsed the light, and I despaired that's just the way it is.

But I think Glen would disagree. I think he would say the contest isn't over, not so long as you and I choose to care, to give, to love.

As many as 900 attended Sunday's service, and I'm sure most of them left feeling inspired to reach out and be bearers of light, like Glen.

Like Joe Lapp on his bicycle, we heard Glen call out.

He said, "Let's go!"

jhawkes@lnpnews.com