The Long Slow Walk Through the Valley of the Shadow

Jean Evelyn Montgomery (July 8, 1932--January 16, 2013)
holding her great-great-niece, Brielle, on New Year's Day 2013

A year ago tonight we got the phone call you never want to get. The call that comes after everyone in the house is sleeping peacefully. The ring that jars you. The news that really is as bad as you hoped it wouldn't be.

A year ago tonight we learned that Aunt Jean had fallen. She was eighty, but the news wasn't of the typical broken hip that comes with old age. Just as my husband's aunt was preparing for bed, she had found some reason to go down to the basement one last time. And this truly would be her last time. The impact from the tumble to her head was so severe that upon arrival at the hospital she was put on life support just long enough to allow the family to gather from around the country for their goodbyes.

Aunt Jean's death has stung for a surprising number of people over these past 12 months. This woman--who never married and therefore had no children--lived large. Oh, it wasn't that she made an impact by the world's standards. She never finished college. She never had a title greater than secretary. The largest piece of real estate she ever owned was a tiny two-bedroom house in a humble neighborhood.

Instead, Jean Montgomery lived large by loving large. Her lavish affection enfolded all those in her path. Her arms were open. Her life was open. Her heart was open. She was a woman without an agenda. She simply delighted in being with those she loved. As long as fellowship was possible, she didn't care what the day's activities would include. Aunt Jean loved to learn and was willing to try anything. She a rare individual capable of enjoying her own foibles. She could laugh at herself and didn't mind when others laughed at her.

Aunt Jean loved those God placed in her life--no matter their flaws. She just had this way of being satisfied with who you were. Aunt Jean saw God's giftings in those she loved and delighted in watching talents blossom. She had a way of seeing what was...exceptional...about you, no matter how deeply buried. In turn, her love had a way of making you believe that maybe you could be...exceptional. She left you feeling that maybe you could leave humanity a bit better for having passed through. The broad brush strokes of her affection built others up. Lifted us up, really.

Aunt Jean was openly grateful to God for the gift of the family and friends. And her gratitude to Him spilled over into action on behalf of others. She was willing to listen... really listen...and to care about what was important to you, just because of its importance to you. She spoke kind words. She had a caring touch and a comforting, enveloping hug that made the big bad world go away for just a little while.

Perhaps, however, the greatest legacy of Aunt Jean's love was her service to others. When her sister's husband was killed in an airplane crash in January 1969, she came alongside and helped raise the three boys who were left fatherless. Several years ago, that same sister, Jane, began the slow slide into the abyss of dementia. Aunt Jean, who had shared a house with Jane for over a decade, uncomplainingly picked up more and more of the chores until the full load of running their home fell on her 80-year-old shoulders, all the while maintaining her 82-year-old sister's dignity so well that no one truly knew the depths of Jane's decline or Jean's service. To her last day, Aunt Jean was loving large.

I think the words of her oldest nephew, Dave, may have summed up Aunt Jean's life best when he wrote, "AJ, your unselfish life is an example that will be spoken of to future generations. Your constant love and devotion to your parents, your sister, my brothers and me, and, in fact, everyone with whom you came into contact was a life-changing force for good in a broken world."

May Jean Evelyn Montgomery's love live on! 

You are deeply missed, Aunt Jean, by so many.

Suffering: Bearing Up Under the Prick of Thorns

Mrs. Beaver:

I'm going to interrupt my posts about our travel for something far weightier. I read the following quote by Thomas Case this morning in Voices from the Past: Puritan Devotional Readings:

"God teaches His people in afflictions. He teaches us to feel compassion toward others who are suffering. We are prone to be insensitive toward others who are suffering when we are at ease. He also teaches us to prize our outward mercies and comforts more, and yet dote on them less. We are to be more thankful for them but less ensnared by them. Next God teaches us self-denial and obedient submission to His will. In our prosperity we are full of our own wills, and usually give God counsel as if we could tell God how it might be better. We dispute our cross, when we should take it up. By bearing a little we learn to bear more. The bullock unaccustomed to the yoke is impatient. After he is accustomed to labour, he willingly puts his neck under the yoke. God works out by degrees the delicate spirit we learned in our prosperity. One way or another, God works His children into a sweet, obedient frame. At length, God brings His children to subscribe: 'What God wills, when God wills, how God wills; Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven.' Finally, we can learn humility and meekness of spirit. Pride naturally runs in our veins, and it is nourished by ease and prosperity. By trouble we come to know our own heart. God seeks to develop meekness in His people by affliction, then save them from affliction." (pg.145)

This past year has held some hard things for our family: the decline of my health followed by major surgery, Russia's decision to close adoption to Americans just as we were on the verge of adding four older siblings to our number, and the sudden and traumatic death of our beloved Aunt Jean which necessitated re-situating Mr. Beaver's 82-year-old mother due to her Alzheimer's. And then about two weeks ago, Mr. Beaver underwent surgery for a large growth in his palate. We thank God daily that the tumor was benign! Still, he is looking at a prolonged and painful healing process after having about 1/4 of the roof of his mouth removed.

The quote was a sweet reminder that while it is so easy to focus on the thorns, God also gives the rose. Suffering has value! For now we'll take comfort in that as we continue to put one foot in front of the next following our Savior through the trials.

"Is That...Me?"

Mrs. Beaver:

I can't believe it's been four weeks since Aunt Jean died. God gave good in the midst of the very, very hard, and I don't want one particular gift to slip by.

One of our kids' cousins wasn't able to get to Denver until the rest of us had been there for a couple of days. When Diane arrived, she kindly brought a gift for our granddaughter, Brielle. That hat she'd made fit Brielle perfectly and couldn't have been a sweeter surprise for Brielle's mom, Anna, who loves owls.

As we wiled away time in the hotel room the following afternoon while funeral arrangements were underway, the 7-month-old, who was wearing her new hat, sat on the bed with her mama exploring her own reflection in a mirror for the very first time.

(Forgive the dirty mirror--this was a real-life moment, not some set-up photo shoot. We didn't have any Windex nearby to clean off the slobber.)

And finally after about an hour of happy exploration, Brielle grabbed her hat, gave it a good tug or two and yanked it off. Her mommy said taking a hat off on her own was a motor-skill milestone.

Wasn't God so very kind to give us the gift of baby wonder in the midst of our grief?