When All is Said and Done

It's been almost fifteen years since I first heard the song by that title.  Darin Peterson, one of Scott's teachers at Immanuel High School, recorded the song by Geoff Moore on a collection of songs he compiled to comfort us in our loss.  The song speaks to what really matters in life; what will be remembered ~ when all is said and done.

About five years ago I participated in a two-year program on leadership being offered at my church.  The final assignment was to write a Personal Mandate ~ a capstone for our twenty-four months of training.   In writing my Personal Mandate, I had to ask  some serious questions. How will I choose to live? Why will I live the life I am living?  What will be my legacy ~ how will I be remembered?

Quite honestly, I moaned and complained about this project.  It totally stretched me to break down my life into a statement of purpose, articulate my core beliefs and create the strategies to achieve a desired legacy.  I remember that for me, the best way to accomplish the task, was to start at the end and work backwards.  So I began with the question in that Geoff Moore song ~ what will be said about my time here on earth, when all is said and done?

I have to admit, in the end, I loved writing my Personal Mandate.  I find it to be a solid rock on which I balance in my life, and determine how to invest my time and energies in those things that conform to my God-given purpose for living.

That brings me to this week.  Through the wonders of technology, I was able to be present for the funeral of Todd MacDonnell, a former pastor from our church.  Although his memorial service was held in the small community of Pierz, Minnesota, I was able to participate in the service from our local church sanctuary via a Skype connection.

Todd was just 48 years old.  Eleven short weeks ago he went to the eye doctor for a sudden change in his vision.  As glasses did not help, and other symptoms surfaced, Todd was sent to the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, MN.  There he was diagnosed with Creutzfeldt–Jakob disease. No known cause. No known treatment. No known cure.  Todd's health declined dramatically, and he went to be with the Lord in less than 3 months.

At his memorial service, speaker after speaker stood to read some of the thousands of notes and letters which were sent to Todd during his brief battle with CJD.  Again and again, each writer spoke of how Todd had been instrumental in helping them become who they are today.  Each commented on the consistent and faithful way Todd lived out his faith ~ never wavering, even with his impending death.

As I listened to the tributes ~ Todd's legacy ~ I remembered the words of that song once again ~

When the music fades into the past,
When the days of life are through,
What will be remembered of where I've come?
When all is said and done?

Will they say I loved my family?
That I was a faithful friend?
That I lived to tell of God's own son?
When all is said and done.

Of how I long to see the hour,
When I would hear that trumpet sound.
So I could rise and see my Savior's face,
And see him smile,
And say 'Well done.'

You can forget my name
And the songs I've sung,
Every rhyme and every tune.
But remember the truth of Jesus' love,
When all is said and done

When all is said and done.

And so this morning, I am thanking my friend, Todd MacDonnell, that in life and in death, he continues to urge us on to greater things, for eternity's sake. With my Personal Mandate in front of me, I am once again focusing on the importance of leaving a godly legacy ~ when all is said and done.

It is never too late to redeem the future and leave a legacy that will continue to speak, when you have nothing left to say.


NOTE: For information on how to write a Personal Mandate, please leave a comment with your contact information, and I will share the process with you.

The Aroma of His Glory

There is a sensory memory that I will carry with me throughout my life ~ it is the delicious smell of Mom’s pot roast, simmering with oven-browned potatoes and carrots. The rich aroma filled our senses each Sunday as we arrived home from church!

It is amazing to me that sensory experiences are so strong. Scientists describe it as odor memory, that is, our ability to remember the scent and the memory connected to the scent. In fact, they have found that only two synapses separate the olfactory nerve from the amygdala, that part of the brain where we experience emotions. That explains why these aromas from childhood form such a strong connection for me ~ like a time and date stamp ~ they connect me not only to Mom’s delicious cooking but the deeper emotion of family dinners together..

So it comes as no surprise that God would chose the metaphor of aroma when he talks about how we live our lives. Paul writes in Ephesians 5:1-2 that when we live a life of love, our very lives become an offering, a fragrant sacrifice to God.

Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children; and walk in love, just as Christ also loved you and gave Himself up for us, an offering and a sacrifice to God as a fragrant aroma.

This metaphor of aroma is both powerful and personal to me. When our sixteen year old son died, I wrestled with questions of meaning and purpose. Why would a loving God allow this tragedy? What benefit could come from the death of my son? How could this tragedy bring God glory?

I distinctly remember the day I read Paul’s words in II Corinthians 2. Paul writes that our lives can also be an aroma of Christ’s glory to those who seek him.

But thanks be to God, who in Christ always leads us in triumphal procession, and through us spreads the fragrance of the knowledge of him everywhere. For we are the aroma of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing, to one a fragrance from death to death, to the other a fragrance from life to life.

I realized that it was not Scott’s death that would bring God glory. It was my response to Scott’s death that had the power to be an aroma of Christ's glory and eternal life.

I firmly believe that Satan intended to gain a victory through Scott’s death; that this loss would destroy our family's hope in the promises of God. Yes, we felt broken and confused. Yes, we struggled to redefine our theology on a daily basis as we sought to understand this tremendous loss through God’s perfect will. But in time, with God’s grace and mercy, we are being transformed not destroyed by this loss.

Perhaps theologian John Piper expresses my thoughts more clearly in his book, God is the Gospel.

The supreme value of the glory of Christ revealed in the gospel is what makes Satan so furious with the gospel. Satan is not mainly interested in causing us misery. He is mainly interested in making Christ look bad. He hates Christ. And he hates the glory of Christ. He will do all he can to keep people from seeing Christ as glorious. The gospel is God’s instrument for liberating people from exulting in self to exulting in Christ. Therefore Satan hates the gospel.

The events of this fallen world are real. Divorce, the death of a loved one, a rebellious child, upside-down mortgages, economic hardships, layoffs . . . the list goes on. These are painful, gut-wrenching situations. Each one has the potential to destroy us. But I believe we have a choice in every situation ~ to be destroyed or transformed. The choice is ours ~ to be an aroma of Christ’s glory to those who are being saved and those who are perishing.  Will we be a fragrance of death and destruction, or a fragrance of life and transformation?

Oh, may the aroma of Christ's glory pour out of me.

Two Dozen Red Roses

Thirty-six years ago today, November 10, 1973, I worked the afternoon shift at the JC Penney store in the Lakewood Mall.  To my surprise, when I arrived home from work there were TWO ~ not one, but TWO DOZEN red roses waiting for me.  The card enclosed with the flowers read:

Tonight is going to be very, very, very special!

Love, Tony

Tony and I have known each other most of our lives ~ my earliest memories of him go back to age five.  We grew up in the same southern California town, attended the same church and saw each other at children's meeting, social events and gatherings.  My dad was his third grade Sunday School teacher.  His mom was my sister's Sunday School teacher.  We knew each other for many years when we began dating in 1970.

After three years of dating, I knew that the roses ~ the TWO DOZEN red roses ~ meant only one thing: that night I would be asked to become Mrs. Tony Redfern!  He reserved a table at The Gate of Spain restaurant on the top floor of a building along the Santa Monica coastline.  He paid the maitre d' for a window table.  After our meal, he pulled a handkerchief, with my engagement ring tied to it, from inside his coat pocket (he said he was so afraid of losing it)!  And he asked me Will you marry me?

So tonight, like every November 10th over the last 36 years, Tony asked me out on a date!  It will be a tender time ~ maybe even tearful time ~ as we celebrate the decision we made to make a lifetime commitment to one another thirty-six years ago, and the faithfulness of God to carry us through the best of times and the worst of times.

Thanks for asking me ~ my answer is still YES!

I am so proud to be Mrs. Tony Redfern!

I love you!

What Word Are You?

I recently enjoyed a good read sent to me by my son-in-law, Jeff. I really connected with the short article entitled Can You Sum Up Your Life's Message in Just One Word?

The author, Bradley J. Moore, encourages his readers to find a word ~ one word ~ that is an appropriate descriptor of all the time and effort and passion one spends to integrate one’s faith into the day-to-day world. Although written to those in the business world, I believe it is an interesting challenge for anyone of faith to consider. What one word best describes how we live out our faith as teachers, parents, friends, electricians, dentists . . . you fill in the blank?

The article reminds me of a post I noticed recently on Facebook: Let's see how honest FB friends are. . . . Leave a ONE WORD comment that you think describes me. It can only be one word. No more. Then copy and paste this on your wall so that I may leave a word about you.

When I first saw that post on FB, a word did come to mind - RISKY. This innocent appeal could very well serve up a dose of in-your-face reality, quite difficult to swallow.

Seeking to find one word to express the integration of my beliefs into my daily world requires the answering of a few essential questions. Is there true integration of my faith across all areas of my life? Am I living a life of integrity or one filled with duplicity? Does my walk match my talk?

For me to find just one word to describe my life assumes that I live a life of integrity. Integrity is more than simply being someone who speaks the truth, although that is certainly a major element of its meaning. Living a life of integrity means that my life ~ the integration of my faith beliefs and my actions ~ is not divided, conflicting, or contradictory. What I say I believe is confirmed by my actions, aspirations, achievements and acquisitions.

The rub in finding a single descriptor comes when our lives are characterized by duplicity. The ancient Hebrews had an idiom that expresses the notion of living a life of integrity or duplicity. Let your yes be yes, and your no be no. In other words, let your inward yes ~ what you believe, be the same as your outward yes ~ how you live out what you believe.

The question in Mr. Moore’s article presupposes a foundation of integrity. One word ~ no contradictions, no opposing life styles, no duplicity.  One word ~  a single descriptor that communicates how we allow what we believe on the inside to influence how we live out our lives on the outside. In essence, it is faith gone public.

What word are you?

Changing Lens

The chill of fall is definitely here. I feel it creeping in under the doors and moving through me to envelope my heart once again.

Perhaps it's the seasonal soccer games that cause me to take the first steps along this pathway. As I watch my grandsons at their weekly games, I am instantly there. And I know it is not always a conscious choice I make . . . to go to thoughts of Scott. It is just a natural place to be. So when Jack so proudly defended his goal, when he repeatedly kicked the ball away from the box, it just came out. Go, Scott! On the sidelines of the soccer field my thoughts inexplicably go to how life was, how life could have been . . . and how.life.SHOULD.be.

Perhaps it's in knowing what the chill of fall brings. It is inevitable ~ cooler nights and shortened days will escort in the grip of winter. It is easy for me to find myself emotionally, mentally, and socially preparing to close down for another winter of grief as the shadows of my sorrow stretch long across the landscape of my heart.

The chill outside brings the awareness that my winter of grief will soon be upon me. Just as the cooler days drive me deep into my closet to drag out my sweaters and jeans, so too I begin to consider how to protect my heart from the harsh realities that so readily seem to consume me.

Honestly, it is only by changing the lens through which I look at this season that brings warmth to my grieving heart. The Apostle Paul writes in II Corinthians 5 that this earthly tent of ours ~ the mortal body ~ will one day be torn down. And when that happens, he writes, that what is mortal will be swallowed up by life. Did you see that? Can you bring the contrast of those words into focus? When this mortal body is no more, we are not swallowed up by death. We are swallowed up by life.

Changing lens does not mean that the brutal force of winter will not be present in my life. The seasons of grief are quite predictable to those who mourn. But this new lens illuminates the fact that the chill of fall and the hard freeze of winter, also brings the hope of life ~ in the warming days of spring ~ and forever in eternity.

(Photo courtesy of my cousin, Bev Henry.)

Made In HIS Image

Kimberly Claire, a former neighbor and childhood friend of our daughter Amy, is on staff at Scum of the Earth Church in Denver, Colorado. Interesting name for a church, don’t you think? The name comes from the passage in 1 Corinthians 4:12-14 (ESV) that reads . . .

. . . and we labor, working with our own hands.
When reviled, we bless; when persecuted, we endure;
When slandered, we entreat.
We have become, and are still, like the scum of the world,
The refuse of all things.
I do not write these things to make you ashamed,
But to admonish you as my beloved children.

Mike Sares is the pastor of Scum. Recently he offered this post in their church newsletter, Rubbish (nice touch in keeping with the theme). Mike wrote:

It has been said that ever since God created us in His own image, we have more than reciprocated. It would be sad if it weren’t so humorous. We are ever prone to make God look, act and feel like a human, In the old movie, The Ten Commandments, they used Charlton Heston’s voice for the voice of God talking to Moses (played by Charlton as well). Perhaps they did that because that is how God sounds to people – just like themselves! Greek and Norse mythologies are about gods behaving like men and women complete with our own petty jealousies, capriciousness, and immorality. To this day, we all project our inconsistencies upon God; God likes the people we like, puts up with the ones we put up with, ridicules the ones we ridicule, and way too often tells us exactly what we want to hear, I am afraid! (The song by Mark Heard, Everybody Loves a Holy War, is all about this as well.)

The God of the Bible exhibits amazing love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control toward a human race that not only distorts His image, but treats people in ways He would never intend. Because of what Jesus did on the cross, God intends to form that love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control in us through His Spirit (see Galatians 5:22). Be on the lookout for the times when this “re-creation” is happening. Allow God to make you into His image, not visa-versa.

I don’t know if those words speak to you, but Pastor Sares’ words shout to me. I think my own responses ~ in times of stress, disappointment or working with difficult people ~ make the image of God I display for all to see look more like an image from those House of Mirrors, where the reflections are bent and distorted. Oh, that I would reflect His true image laid out in Galatians to a world that needs redeeming.

I am reminded of the many passages where we are told ~ not suggested ~ but commanded to image God’s character. You have probably read the pattern of words in verses like . . .

Just as I am ____ (fill in one of God’s character qualities),
So be ____ (the same character quality).

We are told in 1 Peter 1:14-16 . . .

As obedient children, do not conform
To the evil desires you had when you lived in ignorance.
But just as he who called you is holy, so be holy in all you do
For it is written:
“Be holy, because I am holy.”

This passage, and the many others like it, do not offer some magical formula to reflect His character, His image. No hoops to jump through; no level of greatness to achieve. These passages simply say ~ just be like Him. The only requirement is a willingness to allow His spirit to transform us to reflect His image for the world to see.

I pray that I will begin to consider my attitudes, affections and aspirations. I pray that God will not sound like me and that I will hear His voice and reflect His image to those around me. I can think of no better way to Redeem the Future than to reflect the image of God who offers comfort, hope and a future to all who follow Him.

Thirty Five Years

Thirty five years ago this weekend,
I married my best friend.

Can we really be that old -
to have been married for thirty five years?

As children I watched you play, never dreaming our two lives would someday become one.

And then, God placed you in my heart

and me in your heart, and on July 13, 1974

we began a journey as husband and wife - best friends -

trusting God to make known the path He had for us!

I remember a few years ago, you began telling me,
"You know we are living out the greatest love story ever!”

And I boastfully thought to myself,
“Wow! We must be pretty good at this marriage thing!”

Then you gently told me what you meant by this assertion.

God places such a high calling on marriage that He chose the greatest love story of all time to describe how a husband and wife should love and live together. How we live out our marriage
can show the world His greatest love –
wherein Christ laid down His life for His Bride, the Church.

Although WE have changed in our outward appearance as 35 years has left its mark on us, I can say that we are still
living out the greatest love story of all time!

So in honor of our 35th Anniversary, I say thank you . . .

Thank you for promising to travel together as one,
to live out our lives together.

Thank you for holding my heart so tenderly,
in times of great joy and deep sorrow.

Thank you for listening to the voice of God
over the many voices of this world.

Thank you for willingly and faithfully providing
for our family along the way.

Thank you for being a godly leader for me,
and our children, to follow with confidence.

Thank you for teaching and modeling
the pathway to peace for our family.

Thank you for remaining my best friend.

After all these years,

I would say yes

all over again!

I love you!

Wedding Showers in June

I am told
there is an old Italian phrase
about rainy weddings ~
Sposa bagnata, Sposa fortunata.
It means, Wet Bride, Fortunate Bride!

Eleven years ago this Saturday, on June 6, 1998, our house was filled with excitement. Amy and Jeff were getting married in a few short hours!

We spent that day decorating the lovely yard of the Jackson's home beside the Kings River. Friends brought the bouquets of wild flowers they had grown to decorate each table. Twinkle lights and white tulle draped the edge of the yard and the center aisle where Tony would escort our daughter. Amy and her bridal party were upstairs in the Jackson home, having their hair and make-up done. It was a wonderful day and a fairy tale wedding was in the making!

Then, about 4:30 pm, the clear blue sky darkened. Out of nowhere, two storms merged over central California and the rain began. It did not just drizzle or sprinkle. No, it was a downpour. Although sunset was not for another four hours, the sky was dark. Soon lightning and thunder filled the sky. And the fairy tale wedding, the beautifully decorated tables, the white tulle and twinkle lights, were drenched.

Records from the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA), which date back to the 1800's, state for June 6th:

1998: An evening storm drops 1.80 inch of rain in six hours on the Fresno- Yosemite International Airport, part of a total of 1.88 inch for the event. This set records in Fresno for the wettest calendar day in June, the wettest June overall and the wettest 6-and 24-hour periods in the month of June. Across Fresno and Tulare Counties over $27 million dollars in damage occurred to crops damaged by hail and trees downed by the wind. The Reedley area was especially hard hit with 414.8 million in damages.

I remember the tears that rolled down my checks as I watched 400 guests wade down that long Jackson driveway under their umbrellas to join us for this blessed event. Amy had dreamed of an outdoor wedding. Hoping the rain would stop, we decided to have the reception first! All our wonderful friends helped set up the buffet lines under the carport. Guests walked on soggy towels to keep from slipping on the wet cement.

It did not stop raining that evening, but it did not keep us from having a wedding. We hastily set up the candelabras on the hearth, and guests found a way to see or hear from throughout the house; some were able to see and hear the ceremony. The music began, and Amy came down the winding staircase on Tony's arm. She was so beautiful, and what had been planned as a lovely outdoor wedding was transformed into an intimate setting around the hearth of this welcoming home.

I have favorite snapshots in my mind, moments I have tucked away of the day of my daughter's wedding. But there is one memory which truly symbolized for me the choice that was made that evening.

As we set things up for the ceremony to take place in the house, we made sure we dried everything off as we brought it inside. We lit all the candles in the candelabras to be sure they would light for the ceremony. But we forgot to dry and test light the Unity Candle.

When it came to that part of the ceremony, Amy and Jeff picked up their candles to join their individual flames together into a single flame. But the Unity Candle would not light. The wick was thoroughly soaked. After many tries, Amy removed the Unity Candle from its stand, blew her candle out, and set Jeff's candle in the place of the Unity Candle.

I remember all of us laughing with them at the situation. But as I look back on that moment; Amy's actions at that time speak volumes of how she and Jeff would approach their life together.

I know; fairy tale weddings are what most little girls dream of having someday. But too many fairy tale weddings end in broken promises, bitter custody disputes, or merely settle for relationships that have more to do with selfish desires than unconditional love.

What I saw that night, sitting on an ottoman in the Jackson's living room, witnessing my daughter and her husband make vows to one another before God and these witnesses was an act of commitment to take a higher path through life. The rain could have destroyed the wedding. It could have brought out the worst in these two young people. But they chose to find a path of transformation.

Married life is not always sunshine and blue sky. There will be storms and times when it seems the rain just will not go away. Some may make a choice to be destroyed by these times; others will be transformed in spite of them. I am so proud of the marriage that came from that rainy wedding night eleven years ago. I am grateful to watch Amy and Jeff love, honor and respect one another, in good times and bad, as they raise up another generation who are learning that when life sends a storm, you pull on your boots and pop up your umbrella, and find joy in the puddles!

Happy Anniversary,
Amy and Jeff.

How Serious Am I?

Perhaps I can trace my thoughts over the past two weeks to conversations with my cousin Dave. He and his wife, Rachel, are missional artists in Köln, Germany. As a potter, his story of reclaiming broken clay is all about redeeming the future. I posted about brokenness and the impact of his work a few months ago.

Dave and Rachel spent a week with us this month while in the US on Home Assignment. I spent many hours talking with and listening to them as we shared about the struggles and brokenness in our lives through the eyes of The Potter of Jeremiah 18:1-4.

It seems my thoughts continue to dwell on these things. Am I centered on His Wheel? Am I willing to be formed into something that pleases The Potter? With all the pressures of life, can I even feel His hands molding me?

Today I received a link to a video entitled, God's Chisel. I watched with tears as I realized how I fail to address the things that keep me from reflecting Christ. I know what they are. Yet I ignore, excuse, forget, dismiss, cover up . . . you pick the verb . . . I just don't want to deal with the things that get in the way of what really matters.

I know the video is 9 minutes.
Who has 9 minutes?
My prayer is that you will
give yourself 9 minutes
and see how He transforms
and redeems us for His glory.

Finishing Well

The telephone woke me about 5:00 a.m. on February 25, 2004. It was the nurse from Bethel Home telling us that on their last hourly rounds, they found my dad had passed away in his sleep. I called my sister, Kathy, in Long Beach, and then Amy, our daughter. Amy said she wanted to go with us to spend some time with Grandpa. Tony and I picked up Amy at her home, drove through Starbucks (so glad they open at 5:30 a.m.) and drove to Bethel Home, in neighboring Selma.

There we sat, with my dad, Grandpa Goodie*, whose earthly tent lay motionless in the bed. It was there we prayed and thanked God for bringing Dad back to us. If you follow my blog, you will know that my dad went through a rough time (read about my prodigal dad) ~ from 1993 to 2003, to be exact. The estrangement from him was painful and consumed me for almost two years. With a wonderful counselor companioning me, I was able to reconcile the loss of my dad's presence in my life (read about the fat cows) , and rest in the hope of a reunion in eternity.

Then, in 2003, my dad humbled himself and came home. Literally. He came to live with us. He met his great-grandchildren for the first time, ate pot roast and gravy like Mom used to make, and listened to Amy's husband, Jeff (whom he had never met) play hymns on the piano. He lived with us for about one year before suffering a stroke which took him at the age of 94 years old.

So on this the anniversary of his death, I remember a father who finished well. He was not perfect. He lived with regret and brokenness. But, his story is truly one of redeeming the future. His pride, his shame, his old age . . . all could have kept him separated from his family. It seems many individuals become set in their ways. But my dad chose to come home ~ to renew the relationships lost with his family, confess to God and to us the hurts of the past 10 years, and finish well.

The thought I have today, February 25th, is a powerful one.

It is never too late to redeem the future.

I am told by those who keep statistics that only about 60% of individuals actually finish well. I am proud to say the my dad, William W. Goodrell, beat the odds at 94 years of age. As we met at the mortuary to take Dad's body to be cremated, I stood before the box where he laid. Tony and my dear friend Eunice were with me. I asked Tony to give me his pen. And with tears streaming down my cheeks, I wrote on the lid of that box:

Thanks for loving me.

Thanks for coming home.

Thanks for finishing well.

Tell Mom and Scott hello.

We'll see you soon.

Remember . . . It is never too late to redeem the future and finish well.

*My maiden name is Goodrell. When I was little, I could not say it clearly, so my dad's parents became Grandpa and Grandma Goodie. The name stuck and when our children came along, my parents inherited those loving names.

Life's Game

I suppose you need to be a certain age to remember video games with those awkward, chunky joysticks. Originally, joystick was simply a slang term for the lever used by a pilot to control the up and down, and side-to-side motion on the airplane. When video games first arrived on the market (how many decades ago?) many came with only a joystick to attempt to move the characters around the screen to earn points, move another level, and avoid destruction. I have to admit here that it's kind of funny, but we have a PacMan game that attaches to our TV, complete with a joystick. The grand kids love to teach us how to do it!

As AWANA kicked back into full swing after the holidays, the leaders asked me to share with the children about making the most of their time. The theme for the night was "Beat the Clock". So, last night, I shared with those tender young ones about time - one group of Kindergartners through second graders, and another group of third through sixth graders - the brevity of life and the importance of knowing where you will be when time runs out.

I know the Spirit of God was truly present in both the words I spoke and in the softened, opened hearts of the hearers as the room full of wired and wiggly children came to a hush as I shared about Scott's short sixteen years of time here on earth (see Scott's Story in sidebar). I used Scott's story to illustrate a couple of lessons to impact their use of time and guide them toward an eternity with God.

Most children play some form of electronic games these days, from Leapster to PlayStation to Wii. I shared with them that when we play these games, we make mistakes, we lose points, we even die. And all that happens is a blinking screen that tells us GAME OVER. To get another chance and even come back to life, we just have to push the START button again. Life is NOT like those games. When Scott had his accident, there was not light flashing "GAME OVER" and definitely no "START" button to give him another chance to do life over. We need to decide now how we will spend our time, and who will be the Lord of our life.

The second lesson I shared was more about where Scott was now. It could have been a mystery, I told them, but he left clues . . . evidence of his eternity in heaven. The way Scott lived his life helps us know we will experience a glorious reunion with him. I challenged the children last night to live their lives in such a way, that when they are gone, whether they live many years or only a few, there will be evidence for those who remain to know exactly where they will spend eternity - who was Lord of their life, what was important to them, how they spent their time.

UPDATE: Once again, it was a blessing to know what Hebrews 11:4b states about Abel is also true for Scott: "though he be dead, he still speaks." The life Scott lived and the young age at which he died continues to draw young people into the Kingdom. Two children gave their lives to the Lord last night, and will have a chance to meet Scott.

UPDATE: We were notified that the following week, more children talked with their AWANA leaders about Scott's life, and a total of 8 children have received Christ as their Savior. Thank you, God, for redeeming our loss with the joy of seeing these young ones gain eternal life.