Jo Snyder died yesterday morning.  I can’t claim to have known her well, but I don’t need to in order to claim her as a favorite of mine.  I got to know her over a couple of years in teaching a confirmation class, along with Larry Lantz and Fr. Dan Kirby.

She was the type of person you’d go out of your way to say “hello” to.  She had large, bright eyes and an infectious laugh.  Jo, her eyes, or her laugh were more than enough on their own to make you smile.  I can’t recall a time when I didn’t get all three.

Given her spark plug nature, I wasn’t surprised a year ago to catch sight of her and her husband, Randy, in their new Polaris Slingshot.  It seemed to fit her personality as much as her eyes did.  It fit Randy, an avid motorcycle enthusiast, just as well.

I was surprised a few short days later, after seeing Randy at a confirmation rehearsal.  He looked weak and was on oxygen.  When I got a chance, I asked Jo, “I don’t mean to pry, but what kind of health trouble is Randy having?”

“Randy has cancer of the kidneys,” she said in a matter of fact way.

“What’s the prognosis?”

“It’s terminal.  He’s fought it for some time.  They say he’s got just a little way to go.”

The gal that kept everything organized, always brought the extra things the kids might need, and who hadn’t missed a class I could remember, had all of this going on in her life.  I never knew.  Yet what took me back even more, was her manner.

That night Randy mentioned he was feeling a little better.  They laughed like they always did.  When it was over, the two of them got in the Slingshot, got their helmets on, and headed out to enjoy life.  Behind they left me with a view of what faith must look like.

A few days later the kids got confirmed, Randy went into hospice, and on the 14th of May, 2015, he left it.  It seemed to me Jo largely chose to go on in the same manner she always had: the same bright eyes, the same warm laugh, the same faith.

When life ends abruptly, there is always the sentiment that someone else needs to do something about it.  We legislate and litigate as though the combination of the two will someday outlaw death.  Perhaps the more pertinent message, though, is that we need to do something about it:  stop taking if for granted.  Jo Snyder understood that.

Along the way we find causes worth fighting for.  Jo had one in her faith, one in her care for others, and another in the National Kidney Foundation.  The latter went beyond Randy’s ailments.  Jo had donated a kidney, and life itself, to a neighbor.  I think Jo simply strove to be the change she wanted to see in the world.

I’m sure in her life she struggled like the rest of us.  I hope she understood part of the impact how she chose to handle it had on the lives of others.  I do know that a few hours with her were enough to make better my own.  This happened because Jo Snyder lived.