Thursday, November 15, 2007


I've always known that God consoles. I've seen him send children to fill the arms of one who is grieving. I've seen him open a person's eyes to the beauty and the blessing around them. I've seen him provide meals, cars, homes, clothes, plane tickets, cars.

But I have never seen anything like this.

My sister lost her husband in a terrible crash that probably claimed his life instantly. It was swift. It was violent. It was final.

I could go on and on describing how my sister found out. Describing the fact that we were in South America when we got the news and how we raced back. We all felt desperate and helpless to reach her as soon as we wish we could.


The body of Christ was in action surrounding my sister and my two beautiful nieces with love and support and any other thing they could possibly need.

I don't have a lot of time to write, as I've become part of that effort. But the outpouring is beautiful. The body of Christ in Franklin, Tn. has shown God's love to my sister, her girls, and my extended family. They have made his love tangible and very present at such a crucial time.
Will blog later.

Meanwhile, Thank you, God.

Saturday, November 10, 2007


So quiet.
So moderate.
Silent, really. Sometimes invisible.
His left hand knew not what his right hand was doing.

He saw God in the little things, and in Nature.

I learned so much from his quiet example: How to take time to do a thing zenfully (which I learned was not equal to Buddahism. It's the enjoyment of the quiet process). He practiced a kind of Zen Christianity.

When our house was hit by three hurricanes, he was there.
When our first child was born on the other side of the world, He was there with my sister.

He didn't do big groups and lots of noise. Neither do I.
He loved his daughters, his nieces and nephews, and his wife.
He dotted every 'I' and crossed every t, and so left things in order for his family.

He will be sorely missed. Jonathan was a quiet friend who showed his care rather than speak it. He liked long walks and contemplation. He could be found at any family gathering quietly befriending a niece or a nephew, passing on his love for nature and his quiet ideas of enjoyment.

What a sad loss. Heaven's gain is our loss, and yet I know he's with the Lord. I know he's marvelling at the Creator who was revealed dimly on earth, but who is author of all things bright and good.

Jonathan, my dear brother and friend. I will miss you. You did such a beautiful job loving your girls quietly and practically. You were a faithful husband and friend. I know you had questions and that you had obstacles that you just couldn't surmount in your short time, but you left a beautiful legacy. Also, Jonathan, I shall miss your quaint ways, your meticulously neat handwriting, and your nearly immoderate moderation.

To be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord.

Jonathan, I do so hope your passing didn't hurt. What a decisive end. I don't think you knew what hit you. We all hope and pray that you didn't feel the crushing pain, my friend.

We're going to see your body today, Jonathan. I know that's not you. But we'll see it, and we'll be there with Diana and Sally. Your church community is actively loving and providing for the needs of Diana, Isi and Lina. We came to help, but they're cooking, they're cleaning, they're running errands and mowing the lawn. Patio furniture and a space heater appeared on your pack patio. You would have liked the new area..

We took a walk as you would have, and stopped to admire a creek, the fall colors and an acorn. Holland took pictures. Isi and Linda followed the path that you cut to the creek. Rest in peace my dear brother and friend enjoy the Lord. I'm so happy you'll see your mother, whom I know you missed, and Mami Loli who's been up there for 20 years.