“You make beautiful things. You make
beautiful things out of us!” This meaningful worship song will always hold a
special place in my heart. My friend, Brenna, loved this song and she sang it
proudly at all times. It was the theme song for her life, or so she would say.
Ask anyone in the community; Brenna was definitely a beautiful thing.
Brenna Leann Morgart and I grew up
around the corner from each other. She was just a year younger than me. I
actually met her older sister, Arianna, first because she was in my gifted
class, but I met Brenna the next year. Even when we were innocent little
children, Brenna was a bright, shining light. I remember her as a sweet, fun
girl who always shared the swings and never said anything mean to anyone.
As we moved on to middle school,
Brenna’s demeanor never changed. If anything, it only burned brighter. We were
never the best of friends, but we passed each other in the halls, and she
always smiled at me. If we weren’t in a hurry, we would make small talk with
each other just to check in on how life was treating the other. I remember when
she told me she had accepted Jesus Christ as her Lord and Savior. Her face was
just shining with happiness, and the smile I never thought could be more
genuine was absolutely stunning.
My favorite memory with Brenna took
place my senior year in high school. I had finally worked up the guts to
audition for the school musical, Thoroughly
Modern Millie. Brenna and I auditioned in the same group, and she could
tell I was nervous. She put a hand on my shoulder and said in her sweet voice,
“Girl, you got this. Actually, God’s got this so there is no need to worry.
Everything is going to be alright. Just go out there and sing your heart out
and He’ll do the rest.” So, that’s what I did. A week later, when the cast list
went up, my name was listed for the part of Alice. In a funny turn of events,
my character and Brenna’s character were good friends in the play. So we spent
copious amounts of time running lines, practicing the choreography, and rehearsing
the songs. I still look upon those days with a smile in my soul.
After I graduated, I did not see
Brenna again until we met at a mutual friend’s graduation this past May. Brenna
was graduating as well, and excitement practically bubbled from her as she
spoke of her rowing scholarship to K-State. I wasn’t surprised to find her the
same Brenna we all had known and loved for years. Little did any of us know how
quickly things would change.
May 25th was the Friday
before Memorial Day. My family, including my fiancé and my best friend, were
spending some much needed rest at the lake. Our rest would not last long. Even
now, I don’t know how to start this part of the story other than being
obnoxiously blunt. Around six o’clock in the evening, I received a text message
from a friend back home asking if I had seen or heard from Bren. She had gone
for a jog in our neighborhood around 11 that morning and hadn’t been heard from
since. This was so unlikely of her that a group of friends was getting together
to go look for her.
With the help of a police
helicopter, one search group found her body in a field a mere four miles from
my house. Evidence showed she had been hit by a car and dumped in the field
like yesterday’s trash. After she made the news, a man was turned in by his
parents as a suspect. He had told his parents he had hit a deer with his car
but after being checked out, the data was definite. This man, a boy really, had
killed Brenna. After more digging, the police found Dustin Leftwich had been
stalking Brenna for months; he had followed her in his car while she went on
her jog, and ran her down once she was far enough from the neighborhood. He
then put her in the trunk of his car, drove to the dump site, took advantage of Bren in her injured state, and left her for
dead. Brenna, my sweet, beautiful Brenna was treated like trash, and tossed
aside like a broken doll. To this day, I cannot even wrap my mind around what
she suffered.
There were over a 1,000 people that
came to her funeral. Her sister and her father spoke to us about how Brenna
lived her life. Her pastor talked about how she always swung for the fences;
she did not live in fear or regret, but lived each day for Christ. She had such
an impact on our school, our community. In remembrance of her life and how she
lived, we were all given whiffle balls to carry in her memory, to remind us all
to swing for the fences like Brenna did. I carry mine with me in my backpack;
on days when I cannot get her out of my head, I take it out and hold it in my
hands just to feel closer to her again.
Some days are easier than others.
There are days where I swear I can see her smile in the sunshine, or hear her
singing in the breeze. A few days after school started, I met a girl named Brenna,
and my heart clenched painful memory at the sound of her name. No matter how
low I feel, I always remember Bren is in a better place now. She is with her
Jesus; she suffers no longer. Her words from the musical audition still ring in
my head: “You got this. Actually, God’s got this so there is no need to worry.
Everything is going to be alright.” I know she’s right. God does have me in His
hands, and even though this situation is tragic and bleak, He will make certain
some good comes of it. “You make beautiful things. You make beautiful things
out of dust. You make beautiful things. You make beautiful things out of us!”
Truer words could not be said, and I will always remember them in Brenna’s
name.
