"Why are we clapping?" she asked, confused, as we all sat together clapping and clapping, while our lips twisted to hold back the grief.
This verse ran through my head and into my bones at that moment as it had for the previous month, as I sowed seeds and pinned my hopes on dirt, as my oldest brother and his family made the last of their preparations before moving to Alaska, and as we helped in what small ways we could. They sold and gave away a lifetime of belongings-- vehicles, farm machinery, appliances, cats, dog, horses, years of accumulation-- they emptied the house they've spent 20 years laboring to transform from a ramshackle shell to a beautiful, unique home, and they wept along with us when the time they'd spent so much work preparing for finally arrived. Deep roots, strong roots, are hardest to pull up. Being Light and Salt is not always easy.
Their new home is an isolated town in the Alaskan bush and is accessible only by small plane-- a town populated by about 80 people, mostly native Alaskans, to whom they will be the only human manifestation of Good News. It will be cold and dark, at times it will be lonely, but God has gone before them.
This is our heart's ease and theirs.
We waved them off on Saturday, not knowing when we'll next see one another, and each time I look out the kitchen window and see their empty house poking up just past the row of maples, a fresh wave of missing hits, sharp and pointed. I pray that God blesses their sacrifice-- all those small and large deaths they've freely offered-- and uses it to bring forth great harvest.
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I wrote the post above because I'm finding it hard to think about anything else at the moment, but below you can find hundreds of silly pictures that I've slipped in the cracks over the last few weeks. They're in a bit of a jumble, and it'll probably take the average reader a lifetime or two to slog through them all. Enjoy!
Having family move far away is the worst. I know they are doing it for such a good cause, but my heart aches for you!
ReplyDeleteI can't fathom the ache of this--- because in the winter, my brother and I peek across the fields, through the trees, and over the creek at the lights of our neighboring houses... and we make yetti calls to the same end.... and I cannot imagine that ending.
ReplyDeleteIn other news, your pictures... they warm my heart and make me yearn for a different way of doing things here. We have the farm... we have the cherubs.... but we're still running on the treadmill of working/public schooling.... *sigh.* I admire you.
Exciting but hard I'm sure! I've heard that Alaska is a very difficult place to be missionally living life; lots of despair and darkness...so even more exciting that they are taking God at His Word and obeying His call!
ReplyDeleteAre they coming thru Seattle on their way to Alaska? Would definitely love to give them a warm welcome if they are...any family of yours is friends of ours.
Oh my dear friend! My heart aches for you, as well. I will pray for God's peace to wash over you. We will lift all of you up in prayer especially, your brother and his family.
ReplyDeleteI have recently undergone a loss of my own and I will email that to you separately.
"Be still, and know that I am God."
-Psalm 46:10
Much love.
Sad and happy and beautiful. I'll pray them forward too - but know all too well this hardest part of Heeding the Call.
ReplyDeleteI do hope it means a trip to Alaska for the Owen family someday!
I hope that with time and communications, the ache is lessened for you and that the busy-ness of these days lessened the ache for them.
ReplyDeleteSuch a hard, faith-filled thing; that you have a brother and sister who do such things ought to be a balm. Ache of distance in this life is nothing compared to an ache of distance in the next.
I have no real words of comfort-only that I continue to pray for everyone involved in this heartachingly hard move.