Tag Archives: death

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I ended my last blog post with these words:

Thank You, Jesus, for the hope of a life hereafter.

A few nights ago (the night my Uncle Wes died), in between what felt like endless wakings with my baby, I went out to the kitchen around 1am and turned on the computer and wrote most of the following words. I had been going to post it on the end of my last blog post, but it got so long, and I wanted Uncle Wes to have his own post anyway.

Just think of this as Part Two. 🙂

Here's a link to that previous post if you missed it: Until We Meet Again.

(When my dad heard that I had done what he wanted to do--stay up late writing a tribute to Uncle Wes--because my baby kept getting up anyway, he said he guessed he'd better borrow Emmett for a night. Then he wondered if I had a Rent-a-Grandson program in the works. 🙂 I have a very funny dad!)

But back to the topic at hand . . . thinking of heaven in regards to Uncle Wes got me thinking about heaven in regards to those who have gone before him, and I must say, the older I get the more heaven feels like it carries a tinge of familiarity with it. After all, I know some of the faces there. I know their names. And it makes the thought of heaven a little more real. ...continue reading →

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James Christian Roth.

To some, his was a name well-known in Mennonite circles.
To some, he was the friendly owner of a little secondhand store in Woodburn.
To some, he was a dedicated pastor and a wise mentor.
To some, he was a well-beloved missionary and brother in Christ.
To some, he was a faithful friend.
To many, he was a kind and gentle man, one who took time for others, one who gave selflessly, one who was wise and understanding. A man who knew and loved God.

But to me, he was my grandpa. And I miss him. ...continue reading →

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We were reading in the last chapter of Revelation last night, and as I thought about heaven, I suddenly realized something. They're there. James, Orpha, Esther, Rhoda. . . they're all actually there.

And something about it just seemed unreal and unbelievable to me. I knew them here, in this world, in this life. And to think of them now living in a place I've only dreamed of. . . there is something about it that makes me ache to go home as well. ...continue reading →

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It was a busy weekend. Full in every way, sad in many ways, happy in many ways. There were endings and beginnings and continuations, smiles and tears, firsts and lasts.

I didn’t talk to Esther a lot while she was here, though I went to school with her boys and crossed paths with her many times. I do still remember though one short conversation I had with her after an overly rebellious stint of my own when I left home for a few weeks. Her words were of neither counsel nor condemnation. They were words of encouragement. She told me that she’d had a time in her life when she felt the same way I did and had perhaps even left home because of it. And that spoke to me more than any advice she could have given me. In a way, it gave me hope.

I also remember one time when Marvin’s were over at our house quite a while ago, and Mom and Esther got out the Maranatha Bible School book from the year they’d gone and were poring over it with many memories soaked in laughter. I remember thinking how beautiful they both were then and how even though time had changed them, they were both still beautiful.

Esther is more beautiful now than she ever was here on earth. How could she not be? She is in the presence of Jesus, and no more pain can ever touch her. She is made new, and as I think of her there with James and Orpha and Corinne and others, I wonder if friendships forged on earth will be remembered in heaven. And I hope they will be. ...continue reading →