Hey, you. It's been a while.
It's 8:37 and still light outside...hello, summer!
The school is quiet. Most of the students have left.
Life seems to be very full, and I'm thankful for the quiet and space to balance out everything on my plate...
Graduation and its aftermath, a three-day safety training course, a wedding in CA, another wedding here, and (next week!) a trip to Senegal...
Whew.
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They are my sanity in the craziness -
How good God has been to bring this family into my life.
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This past weekend was a whirlwind trip out to California for a dear friend's wedding. In spite of giving myself what should have been ample time for the drive out to the church, the traffic was so horrendous that I was late. Like, didn't-get-to-see-her-walk-down-the-aisle late.
Oh, you better believe I did some major grumbling to God about that.
...Like a spoiled kid so upset over what she didn't get that she couldn't see everything she had been given.
The truth is, God has been very gracious to me.
I could have been in Senegal when all this happened. Instead, I was here in the States when she was dating. I got to be around during the months she was planning her wedding, and - although late - I did get to be there on her special day.
He didn't owe me any of this. Pure grace.
I didn't get any pictures (because I'm wretched at picture-taking during events), but everything was just beautiful and she was the loveliest of brides.
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A happy bonus from the CA trip was two short but sweet evenings with my niece and nephew (and the rest of the family minus Beck).
They're so adorable. Malachi is a book-loving, Ava-adoring, heart-melting little chatterbox. Ava is a doll. She has the sweetest cheeks and darling brown eyes.
I wish I could have snuck them into my suitcase and brought them home with me.
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Speaking of adorable, I finally got some recent pictures from Angèle, and guess what?! I get to see them next week!
My baby Theo isn't a baby anymore. Sigh.
This morning, my great uncle Dusty passed away.
I hardly know what I should say about him...
He was kind and gentle, but had a definite streak of mischief. He was always ready to play with us kids. He loved nature walks, fishing, and bird-watching. He was absolutely encyclopedic with knowledge, and you could learn so much from talking with him. He adored his wife, my aunt Joyce.
One of my favorite memories was a Thanksgiving (maybe ten or twelve years ago) when I was over their place helping get half of the dinner ready while the rest of the family was at my grandma's getting the other half ready. The three of us had just finished a nice cup of tea and Aunt Joyce went to the kitchen, saying they needed to check on the turkey. Uncle Dusty got up and - instead of following my aunt - started a merry little jig in the living room. Bent over the open oven door, Aunt Joyce interrupted his dance with a reminder that she needed his help turning the turkey over. He went into the kitchen, a dutifully sheepish look on his face, but I'm positive I saw a mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he walked past me. I still laugh when I picture that scene.
We loved our uncle Dust.
Sometimes death feels like a chasm, a divide that can never be crossed over. Final. Heart-wrenching. When a believer dies, it's different. Death seems...more like a veil, a thin separation between this earth-bound life and eternity. There's something about a loved one slipping into Jesus' presence that makes heaven seem so close.
Death still stings, but it has no victory over a child of God. He has conquered death, and this end that seems so final is really the best beginning of all. In some mysterious way, there is a holiness, a sweetness, even, mixed in with the sadness of the passing.
Yes, there have been tears today. Some because I miss him. Others because I feel the weight of God's mercy in all this...
He was ready to go. Ready to meet Jesus. There was no fighting and no fear. It was only recently that he trusted Jesus, and I find myself so grateful for the mercy God showed in giving him more life, more time - the opportunity to believe. Just a year or two ago, it would have all been so very different.
Today he met Jesus face to face, and what a sweet moment that must have been.
So we grieve with hope and, through the tears, we celebrate the grace that wrote this story.
