For 6th-8th grade, I was in a one room classroom at Victory Christian Academy. We called it "The Learning Center". Using an ACE curriculum, 6th-12th grade used an old sanctuary of the church where we had desks with dividers along every wall and in the middle of the room. It was an interesting experience that came with many life lessons. I'm guessing we had 30 students in the whole room. Of course, being in middle school, we watched the high schoolers like crazy, and took note of everything they said and did.
One of the high school boys that all the girls were crazy about was very quiet. He interacted with everyone equally; he didn't treat us middle schoolers as stupid; he lived his faith. I had the utmost respect for him and hoped when I grew up I'd find someone similar to him to marry (and I did! :)
This week his 20 year old son Trent died. I've never met his wife Lorna, but they have been SO heavy on my heart ever since I heard the news. I find myself uttering prayers for them as I iron, while I cook, and even while I drive from one appointment to the next.
Twelve years ago the church I attended lost a young man the same age, also unexepectedly. The grief was horrendous, and our entire church body physically hurt. We hurt with the pain of saying goodbye to someone we all loved, we hurt for his parents who everyone loved as their own. We hurt watching them hurt, because there was absolutely nothing we could do to make them feel better. We could only take them to the Great Physician who in his time heals wounds. Times like this remind me that while I like to think of myself as a helper or fixer, I'm not. I can be the friend who helps carry the gurnery to the Almighty Doctor and waits, but I am not capable of healing.
We expect our grandparents and parents to receive the glorious room service call that their heavenly room is ready long before we do. And yet, it still hurts and our hearts have a void when they're gone. But when someone so young gets that call, it seems to tilt our whole world out of focus. Walking through death's shadow when it's a young person makes death seem more ominous and horrifying. Like Will, Trent would have been voting in his first presidential election ever. I know it seems odd to think of things like that, but I remember clearly Watson Hall telling everyone to go and vote as they left his house. Evidently that was one of the many things they had talked about in their last conversation with Will.
If you get a chance today, send up a prayer for Scott and Lorna Harbison and their remaining son and daughter, that they will feel the soothing from the Balm of Gilead and that their hearts will experience the Comforter in unimaginable ways.
One of the high school boys that all the girls were crazy about was very quiet. He interacted with everyone equally; he didn't treat us middle schoolers as stupid; he lived his faith. I had the utmost respect for him and hoped when I grew up I'd find someone similar to him to marry (and I did! :)
This week his 20 year old son Trent died. I've never met his wife Lorna, but they have been SO heavy on my heart ever since I heard the news. I find myself uttering prayers for them as I iron, while I cook, and even while I drive from one appointment to the next.
Twelve years ago the church I attended lost a young man the same age, also unexepectedly. The grief was horrendous, and our entire church body physically hurt. We hurt with the pain of saying goodbye to someone we all loved, we hurt for his parents who everyone loved as their own. We hurt watching them hurt, because there was absolutely nothing we could do to make them feel better. We could only take them to the Great Physician who in his time heals wounds. Times like this remind me that while I like to think of myself as a helper or fixer, I'm not. I can be the friend who helps carry the gurnery to the Almighty Doctor and waits, but I am not capable of healing.
We expect our grandparents and parents to receive the glorious room service call that their heavenly room is ready long before we do. And yet, it still hurts and our hearts have a void when they're gone. But when someone so young gets that call, it seems to tilt our whole world out of focus. Walking through death's shadow when it's a young person makes death seem more ominous and horrifying. Like Will, Trent would have been voting in his first presidential election ever. I know it seems odd to think of things like that, but I remember clearly Watson Hall telling everyone to go and vote as they left his house. Evidently that was one of the many things they had talked about in their last conversation with Will.
If you get a chance today, send up a prayer for Scott and Lorna Harbison and their remaining son and daughter, that they will feel the soothing from the Balm of Gilead and that their hearts will experience the Comforter in unimaginable ways.
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