Filed under: Nathanael Isaac
I’m certainly lacking in consistency, aren’t I? I guess the good news is I’ve been sleeping better lately, therefore I have nothing to do to pass the time in the middle of the night.
Exciting news! I have a vegetable garden. I have long loved gardening, of course I’d have to to go through the trouble of becoming a Master Gardener (TM), but I haven’t had a vegetable garden since moving to the coast. I started a community garden instead and have spent the last two springs working on that. Now I have a committed group of gardeners to take over and I have shifted to a more advisory/management position.
My wonderful husband built 16 raised beds (from lumber he milled himself) and just yesterday we finished filling them with 17 yards of custom blend soil. Nearly everything is planted, just need to pick up a few more seeds.
I’m happy. This has been heavy on my heart all winter and I’m relieved that it’s done.
Nathan has been right beside me the whole time. He picked up my passion for gardening and growing good food along the way and I thought of him constantly as I was shoveling dirt and planting. He would be excited about the greenhouse garden. He would be asking me questions about what and how and why, so he could try the same for his own garden. I miss our gardening talks.
So I dedicate this garden to my son, Nathanael. I have watered seeds with tears of remembrance and sorrow. What great gardens you will show me when I get Home! I love you, Nate.
Today is Easter – the triumphant day when the Saints of Christ celebrate the reason for our hope – Christ’s resurrection from the tomb. Without it, our faith is worthless. With it, we rejoice in all circumstances with the confidence of absolute forgiveness and the assurance of eternal fellowship with our Lord.
To those who don’t believe, that all sounds like absolute gibberish. Better to be a fool and be saved, than be wise and be lost. So I’ll just gibber away.
Yesterday was an unusual day. It started at the Lincoln City Community Garden with the intent of getting things moving, or growing, there. Much of the time was spent with people I hadn’t seen since last Fall who offered their support and sympathy. Hugs are always good. The rest of it was spent counseling a newly graduated Master Gardener apprentice in how to start a new community garden in Newport.
That wasn’t all that unusual, come to think of it. The spectrum of the remainder of the day was. Sabrina, my too beautiful 14 year old, and I went to Salem to attend a celebration of the birth of our friends’ daughter, Naomi Della Irma Summers. Her big brother Lucas is Sabrina’s biggest fan and we had a lovely time thinking about the life ahead of her and enjoying dear friends.
From there we went to see the original Irma. There are very few women in my life that I count as mentors. For much of my life, even as a young woman, I have been the mentor or leader or teacher. Rarely has someone older and wiser come along side and helped me along. Irma Garlick is one of those rare and precious women. And I’m not alone in thinking so. Irma has been a passionate teacher, discipler, and friend for the many years I’ve known her.
And Irma is dying. She has battled cancer for nearly as long as I’ve known her and now she has weeks or days before she goes Home.
She and I have had some meaningful talks about death recently. Sharing with her my grief and understanding of Heaven knowing my son is there. She sharing her eagerness for Home and what it has meant to her to face her death – the fear and the peace.
It was precious to me to see my daughter and this wonderful woman of God together, probably for the last time. Sabrina was asking her for her wisdom and counsel, what lessons would you leave for me? And Irma was loving and gracious in pouring out her heart to this almost-woman.
The beginning of life and the end. It is true for each of us and yet we tend to remove ourselves from the truth of it by hiding in our everyday lives. Each of us was born and people celebrated our arrival. Each of us will die. God willing there will be people to mourn us when we go. But after death, then what? Where will your eternal home be? Do you have the peace of absolute assurance? Do you want that peace – to go fearlessly past death to Real Life?
Irma has done me perhaps the greatest honor I’ve ever received. She has asked me to minister to the women that she ministers to each week. She has entrusted to me their hearts and their grief. I’ll be teaching her Bible study class after she goes Home and trying to help these women understand just what it means in Scripture that to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord.
I am familiar with grief. I am familiar with the strange juxtaposition of joy and pain. I pray that I do Irma and our Lord honor in what I teach.
Pray for Irma that God would take her Home soon, peacefully and painlessly. Pray for Naomi that she have a long and rich life, and for her parents, Darren and Jodene, that they would continue to set a godly example for their children. Pray for me as I prepare to become an ‘Irma’ to a group of women in our Titus 2 ministry starting soon.
Blessings to you, dear reader, on this most blessed of days. Happy Easter! He is risen indeed!
Filed under: Nathanael Isaac
A few precious nights of sleep – what luxury. I’m not sure what made the difference. Exhaustion? Exercise? Whatever it was it didn’t last long. Nights are very long when sleep refuses to come.
My heart is aching for any news, any connection. I find myself searching websites looking for glimpses of Lauren and Jack, my daughter-in-law and grandson. I feel like an intruder, a voyuer, peering into the conversations of strangers for some clue as to how they are and where. I look to others who are more connected than we for words and pictures of my grandson who is growing so fast.
I miss Nathan. He was so faithful in calling and sharing his life and his family with us. A double hurt.
I am so grateful for Family. My sister-in-law, Pam, and her son, Cody, spent several days with us this week. What a blessing the fellowship of people who just love us. No expectations, no plans, just time together loving and supporting one another. Thank you both.
From the time he could walk Cody was Nathan’s shadow. Nathan would scoop Cody up high on his shoulders and take him along on his Adventures whenever they were together. Nate’s death has affected him deeply.
Cody’s one desire before he left here was to go out on the lake. 
I was so grateful that Tim granted that wish. Pam and I embraced and wept as we watched these two men, these wounded warriors, carry the canoe down and paddle out onto the water that claimed their hero.
Both were quiet after. Not surprising.
Later we had a volunteer come to Covenant Creek for the first time. A gracious woman we met recently who has long had a desire to live the homestead life. She was fascinated by our story and wanted to help and learn. I gave her the nickel tour of Covenant Creek, the amphitheater, the forest. We ended up near The Tree. As I shared the story with her she approached reverently and gently touched the hollow stump, saying she felt she was on hallowed ground. How appropriate that even a stranger would sense that. It is indeed hallowed ground.
Laughter comes more easily. For that I’m thankful. But each day begins and ends with tears it seems. I don’t mind that the two are intermingled. It seems right to me. Love should be of such sheer magnitude that it encompasses all.
I love you, Nathan. I love you, Lauren and Jack. And you too, Charlotte and Kyle, Jeremiah, Timmy and Mandi and Levi (and Isaac), and Sabrina, and my Timothy. And Pam and Cody, and Mom and Dad, Tim and Ted….
My husband asked me recently if I liked my life. He asks me that from time to time. I wonder if it’s his way of gauging how he’s doing as a husband and provider. I know it’s how he expresses his love for me – am I loving you well enough?
This time when he asked, the question held more meaning. I had to think, do I love ALL of my life? I have a husband that loves me deeply and is concerned about the condition of my heart. I love that, and I love him. I live in a place that is breathtakingly beautiful and peaceful. When I think of where I might take a vacation, the most beautiful place I can imagine is where I actually live. I definitely love that part of my life.
I work from home which gives me opportunities to educate my daughter, make my home and family the ultimate priority in my daily life, structure my time as I please. I wouldn’t trade that for anything.
I have children and grandchildren and their spouses that I love and enjoy. I’m blessed with friends who stand by me and are prayer warriors on my behalf. In my relationships, I feel rich, and I like that very much.
But do I like all of my life? Do I like that my son Nathanael is no longer living among us, missing him and aching in my heart as I do. Not at all. But do I value the lessons and overwhelming blessings that God has showered on me through the processes of loss and grief? Absolutely. Have I enjoyed the distress at my parents’ illnesses? No way. But what about the deepening of relationships and my gratitude for more time with them. You bet.
I haven’t enjoyed the sorrow and stress of this recent season of my life, I’d need serious mental help if I said I did, but I value and honor what has come out of it. I have a deeper understanding of suffering and thus a deeper empathy. Most importantly, I have a much more meaningful relationship with my Savior, a reliance on His strength and on prayer.
I love that for this season, my heart is full and I am grateful for the abundance I have been given. I am grateful for a season of rest after a season of battle.
So, to my husband. Do I like my life? No. I love my life. Thank you for all you do and for who you are to make my life so blessed. I love you most of all.
