I get attached to folks quickly. Too quickly sometimes, but for the most part, it’s been a good thing. I’ve long had the opinion that if God in his wisdom had your and my paths cross, then there must be some important reason for that, big or small. Short term or long-term. Because once you’re my kid, you’re always my kid.

Never was this more true to me than with the “kids” got entrusted me with–6th, 7th and 8th grade language arts kids I taught; Young Life kids in the high schools I was assigned to; and the precious, precious leaders in my care as a Young Life staff person.

I lost one of those “kids” this week; Amy DiBias Patwa, the 34-year-old mother of 3-year-old Charis, wife of Adam, friend to scores, beloved Young Leader to many, adored family member to her family.

But when I met her, she was a 19-year-old student at UNC Charlotte who had been referred to me as the area director of Cabarrus County Young Life. When Amy first met you back then, she was a reserved, quiet, and had to check you out. You had a sense that she was unsure if she liked you and that you’d have to prove yourself to her. When I told her this a few years later, she admitted that it was more so her insecurity, her fear of showing her true, bold self, for fear that folks might not be able to handle her. Because, once you got to know her, Amy was anything but reserved, quiet and judgmental.

That day I met her in the lilac-colored coffee shop in Concord, NC, Amy had what we would later call “Neapolitan hair” because in the very front she had a strand that was blue then pink then white, kind of like the tri-flavored ice cream of the same name. I thought she was may be a radical and I loved that. Turned out she was pretty conservative in her views, but very radical in the passion she had for people. If you were her friend, her family, her young life kids, she was fierce for you and sometimes with you. But you never worried that it was not out of love for you, even if misguided sometimes and pretty damn intense.

I am pretty sure Amy ascribed to the same belief I described above: once you were in her life, you were always in her life, in some way. It was in her heart where you stayed. Even if you never spoke or texted or facebooked or anything. God had placed you there, and there she would keep you.

And now. Amy, I and many others are keeping you in our hearts where you belong. And I have no doubt that we are more than ever in your heart and that you and Jesus are talking about us, more fierce and intent as ever.

And as for the rest of yous reading this, let me make it clear: you are in my heart. Whether I taught you The Outsiders; took you to Frontier, Windy Gap or Saranac; did “contact work” with you with; or have been your school administrator; you are forever in my heart. I love finding out how your life is, who you are in love with, what silly things your own kids do–basically how you turned out.

And I grieve if you leave us.

Don’t do that yet, okay? Not for a long while. You have a lot to give to this world and I expect you to do that.

Because once you’re my kid, you’re always my kid.

(I love you, Amy).