Loss

He was chaplain at “that other school.”

But he quickly became someone I looked up to. Admired. Wanted to be like.

Wells was full of wisdom, love, and general holiness. Not the kind that left you feeling like you weren’t worthy or were dirty. The kind that quietly reminded you, and sometimes loudly reminded you that God loved you where you were but wanted you to come higher, do better.

He was part of a council of advice that, mostly, were unaware they were a council. The group of college chaplains that served many of the universities and colleges in Alabama were a pantheon of loving people who loved me right into a collar. They inspired me to give my life in service to God’s people. Today, one of those collegiate Devines has gone to his rest.

And I’m so sad

“Tyler, some of the best pastoral work you’ll ever do may be plunging a toilet.” Wells added to the voices that reminded me that parish ministry isn’t ever always glamorous. Sometimes you will need to mop, cut the grass, or like I had to do today, clean out a flower cooler that was left open and filled with dead flowers.

He was there for fall gatherings, for Vocare, for my wedding, and I know prayed for me in my own ministry. His family, has always felt like my family. And I’ve never felt like a stranger to them. At many pivotal moments of my life I’ve looked up and there was a Warren looking back at me.

The last several months have been filled with loss for me. Friends, colleagues, and too many mentors. Too often I’ve been reminded that grief is the price we pay for love, and today I’m reminded, again, how soon it’s all over.

Rest Well, Father Wells: my mentor, my friend, my brother priest. May light perpetual shine upon you. Pray for us, now and at the hour of our death.

And maybe even War Eagle. But just for today…