The last few weeks in Kooskia, Idaho, have been dreary. When winter rolls in, so does the darkness.
Living in the valley spurs Josh and I to cherish our quickly fading sunlight.
This morning, we woke up to phone calls, we dressed quickly, then headed out the door.
On the way up the mountain, I noticed today was not a dreary day. It was chilly, so fog was rolling through the hills, but as we continued to drive up, sun beams burst through the fog. The light was present, and the light was warm.
We have a couple in our church. He's 70ish, but you'd never know, and she's somewhere close in age, but even harder to guess.
They're fit- they're active. They travel everywhere. They love people and animals and even put on a church camp for disabled adults and kids. The community has embraced them for nearly thirty years, and our small church has embraced them, too, so the heart strings are rooted deep.
Josh and I are still reeling in shock.
Last night, Beth went to pick apples. The apple season is coming to an end, and Beth hates waste. She talks about the land as a blessing, and being good stewards of the land means using what is provided, not wasting.
Phil wasn't home yet, so Beth loaded up on the new four-wheeler Phil got her for her birthday, rallied up their nine adopted dogs, and made her way to the off-road apple orchard on their property.
It was nearly dark when Phil made his way home. Winter calls darkness in early. He said something just wasn't quite right- some of the dogs were home, but a few weren't, and neither was the four-wheeler.
With tears in his eyes this morning, Phil, still in yesterday's boots and chaps, said "I expected to find her stuck. Not dead."
Beth had gathered five bags of apples, and was on her way home, when somehow, the rig flipped on top of her. And that's how Phil finally found her. He'd searched all over their property, gone to every pond, when one of those three dogs came to him, and then led Phil back to his wife.
Phil said, "Some people are married for years and get tired of each other. We never did."
Saturday, Phil is asking for close friends to come up to the ranch to juice Beth's apples. He said, "If I let Beth's apples rot, she's gonna yell at me in the afterlife! She'll say, 'You wasted my apples!'" I can't think of a better way to hold memorial for this dear woman- it's so Beth.
Darkness may last for a while, and sometimes it seems as though it will never clear, but light bursts through the dreary fog, and brings warmth, and life, and hope.
Church will start in a few hours, and our small body of 25 will tearfully listen as Josh brings a message from the beatitudes.
"Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted."
God knew even before we did.
Though the darkness may last for the night, joy comes in the morning, and that joy is Jesus, because separation is only momentary.
And Beth wins.
No comments:
Post a Comment