The visitation (part II)

 

Shari and her husband were standing at the head of Nathan’s casket.

“Can you imagine if that were your son?” A lady behind me asked.

“No, I can’t.” 

As I approached Nathan's casket, I noticed he was wearing a trendy rubber bracelet imprinted with the words “CLASS OF 2013.”

I hugged Shari and gave her my condolences. 

“Thank you for the flowers.” 

“You are welcome.” 

“I think of you when I look at them.”

“I woke at four in the morning ... “ 

My throat clamped shut like a vice grip, and I couldn’t utter another word. I put my hands together to symbolize prayer, began crying, and finally expressed what I was trying to say.

  

“I stayed awake until 5:00 a.m.”

 

“I am glad because that was when I needed prayer.”

We’ve been in the same Sunday school class for over ten years and have endured many rough times. I hugged her husband and spoke to him.

“I have something for you,” he said.

He reached in his pocket and pulled out a mint. We laughed because I brought mints to Sunday school to share.

The Visitation (part I)

I haven’t gone to a service where the ushers sat you because so many people stood in line. As the line shortened, they moved a few rows of seated people to the line of people standing. The pews were almost full when we approached the front of the line. Many students from his school were there, as were many older people.

As we entered the room where the family was, our church’s high school minister stood in the doorway. 

“Are you the official door greeter?” I asked.

He chuckled.

“I’ve never had a student die. It’s been hard.” 

He went to the Nathan’s house and prayed with Nathan’s dad.

“I prayed three words and couldn’t pray anything else,” he said. 

"I have been praying for the students coming to the service.”

"There are so many people praying.” 

“I don’t know if I will be able to articulate what I needed to say during the service.” 

“You will do fine.” 

Struck a Chord

Nathan's death struck a chord. I guess it’s because Ashton is Nathan’s age, but I also grieved for them. I prayed for the Lord to give them grace, peace, and mercy. 

One day, I woke around 4 a.m. and prayed for a long time. The kids who went to Nathan’s school came to mind. I prayed they would come to the funeral and hear about Christ and their need for a personal relationship with Jesus. We may never know why Nathan died. Could it have been for his classmates to hear about Jesus? 

One night, a friend wrote a note to the family on Facebook. She said, “You raised a young man who completed his godly purpose on this earth in only 18 years. It takes so many of us so many more years to do the same.” 

What a remarkable statement. It was a lovely tribute and made me cry.

kids who went to Nathan’s school came to mind. I prayed they would come to the funeral and hear about Christ and their need for a personal relationship with Jesus. We may never know why Nathan died, but maybe it was for his classmates to hear about Jesus. 

     One night, a friend wrote a note to the family on Facebook. She said, “You raised a young man who completed his godly purpose on this earth in only 18 years. It takes so many of us so many more years to do the same.” 

     What a remarkable statement. It was a lovely tribute and made me cry.

 

 

"Just like that (part II)"

I arrived around 5:00 p.m. Shari stood in the front yard talking to our music minister. We embraced.

“Can you believe this is happening?” 

Ishook my head. “No.”

Shari has been through a lot over the years. Her parents passed away—and her brother has prostate cancer. I was quiet and listened as she mentioned Nathan’s actions the day he died and the details of the wreck. Her strength was incredible.

We went inside and talked. 

“I’m thankful for the family vacation we took last summer. We took a three-week trip and traveled in an RV. Nathan put together a DVD of their journey and added music.”

They played the DVD, so I watched part of it. I talked to family members before leaving.

It was 7:00 p.m. when I left. Paul had already eaten, so I got dinner for Ashton and myself. Of course, I wanted to eat with Ashton after a rough night. Still, I had difficulty sitting at the table without crying. I felt terrible because I could hug Ashton, but Shari could not hug Nathan. I went to the bathroom because I did not want to cry in front of him. I made it through dinner with a tear or two, but I don’t think he noticed.

I went to bed early to cry—I burst into tear and cried so hard my face hurt.

 U  We don’t know our last day on earth. Are we living as though we are?  U

"Just Like That"

The phrase "just like that" came to mind several times when my friend Shari’s 18-year-old son, Nathan, was killed in a wreck on August 11, 2013. Shari and her husband attend our Sunday School class. We usually sit together and enjoy talking before class.

I did not know him personally, but he was an intelligent young man—talented in technology. He had volunteered at church and various places with lights and sound. He was set to start college the following week.

He spent much of the day at church functions. That evening, after taking his girlfriend home, his truck veered into a ditch and hit a culvert. The vehicle overturned, and he suffered fatal injuries.

Paul told me about his death while I was driving to Aunt June’s. I was near Shari’s house, made a U-turn, and altered my plans. Aunt June reassured me that it would be okay.

Their home was flooded with people when I arrived, but Nathan’s parents were at the funeral home. I stayed briefly because it could be long before they came home—they had many decisions to make.

After leaving their house, I helped Aunt June by going to the grocery store. I stopped in my tracks while passing the flower section because the flowers were stunning. I bought a bouquet for Shari.

I prayed for the Lord to give them grace, peace, and mercy throughout the day. My prayers changed when I returned to their house that afternoon. I prayed for the Lord to grant me abundant strength.