Seen my share of broken halos

Folded wings that used to fly

They’ve all gone wherever they go

Broken halos that used to shine

Angels come down from the heavens

Just to help us on our way

Come to teach us, then they leave us

And they find some other soul to save.

Country singer Chris Stapleton sings these words. He describes “angels” as people who have left profound and lasting effects upon our lives, but died long before they could grow old.

Don’t go looking for the reasons

Don’t go asking Jesus why

We’re not meant to know the answers

They belong to the by and by.

His song got me to think about a high school student who modeled a remarkable zest for living her life before she was suddenly gone to “wherever they go.” Nicole was a student of mine many years ago. A few years after she graduated, I was told that she had died in an automobile accident, leaving a husband and two very young children.

Nicole was very outgoing and electrically animated. Any provocation would propel her to fire a volley of cannonballs loaded with her feelings right at you. She possessed an extraordinary gift to speak for the poor, the distressed and the victims of society. I recall when she was the only student who argued that we should pity those who hold power over us and we should give our compassion to a criminal because he himself was a victim, too. Nicole sided with the unpopular, the flawed character in the novel who readers were never supposed to like.

On Fridays in my English class, we would begin with a 10-minute journal writing session prompted by a controversial topic question I would write on the board. After our writing, the students would engage in debate. Nicole took on anyone’s and everyone’s viewpoint that opposed hers. She boxed her opponents with words and she threw verbal punches to win by knockout.

A junior in high school, Nicole had already flashed an intensity that was lacking in many of her classmates. She had an extraordinary strength to squeeze the one last drop from her bleeding heart to prove her point.

Nicole was passion personified, a relentless storm of emotional energy, an immovable object in your face, a fully inflamed 17-year-old fireball. Unknowingly, she helped me to unleash the voice in my soul, to say what I think no matter whose ears were nearby.

When we argued a theme from the novel “The Great Gatsby” that people born into wealth are incapable of feeling love. I so admired her determination to explain why they could have real feelings, even though I counterpointed that big money removes any genuine ability to care deeply about another. It never mattered to me if I thought she was right or wrong, I was so impressed that she never moved an inch from where she stood her ground.

Just before her graduation day, I thanked her for enlightening me that the important challenges we face are not always colored in black or white. Her everlasting energy to make each breath we take to matter for something.

Throughout history, the convictions of certain individuals have changed the world, from Jesus to Martin Luther King Jr. to Billy Graham, just to name a few. We have been captivated by the emotion of the speaker more than by the message delivered. Nicole could command an audience before she even spoke one word just by her presence.

American storywriter Leo Rosten said that the purpose of life is to matter, to make some difference that you have lived at all.

Chris Stapleton resonates with my memory of my brief time as Nicole’s teacher. She was, as the song says, someone who came into my life to help me on my way.

Rich Strack can be reached at katehep11@gmail.com.