A Families Devotion

I met Wayne when I was working at Heritage Park in grade 11. I recall him well, a man who had a passion for the Lord. I recall we were sitting overlooking the reservoir at lunch one day and he drew a cross on a piece of paper and asked me what my relationship was to the Lord.

Right then I knew this man was different and as the years went on. Wayne informed me of his lovely lady Lynn, his present wife, and that he intended to marry her. It was the first time I’d ever heard of anyone consciously deciding to take time away from a loved one to make sure they were both making the right decision. Their devotion to the Lord prompted my first step as I began studying the bible further at University with students from all over the world.

After Memphis I returned to their home in Franklin, Tennessee and saw the progress of their move. They were mobilizing an entire life, family and home in mere weeks to California. I arrived to find friends of theirs clambering over boxes in hopes of helping them pack. They worked all night in preparations for the movers the next day. Their calm demeanours, gentle tones, and ability to work through exhaustion as I slept for 6 hours while they forged through the night was amazing. I thought about my family and knew there is no way we could have accomplished what they did in the serenity that existed.

In some small capacity I tried to help out. Their family invited me into a vulnerable time and their composure and love for one another brought me to my knees. The girls checked in on one another throughout the day and supported their parent’s myriad of tasks that needed to be done. From the cable company, to telephones, to transferring cars, shredding personal documents, loading recyclables for the depot, and reaching the bank on time. I recall the last day when Lynn and I were transferring their king size bed to the recycling. With a mere electrical cord available as the movers had left, all five of us heaved the bed onto a tiny truck already teeming with boxes of condiments, rugs, cardboard, and garbage and as we sailed down the highway slowing traffic as we didn’t want to lose the bed as it levitated into mid-air. I was laughing so hard wondering if I should jump onto the bed to hold it down. I prayed that the cord would hold.

When the recycling gents wouldn’t take the condiments the girls and entered a city park and like fugitives waited for the sheriff to leave, we tossed hot spices, mangos, chutneys, molasses, lemon curds, mayonnaises, salad dressings, pickles and olives into the bin thinking what we would say if caught. “Oh we just had a lovely picnic officer, but couldn’t get through all these condiments.”

As all this was evolving their family generously donated 35 boxes of coats, pots and pans, bed frames, hangers, and lacy dresses, mirrors, pants, books, tables, lamps, and nail polish. The truck pulled up expecting a contribution and left billowing over with bounty.

Meanwhile amongst this complexity the new owners were showing up at the house with painters, counter top specialists and flooring experts. They seemed somewhat oblivious that this family might have needed some time and space to pack.  They sauntered in several days and spent time measuring, discussing and evaluating at their leisure. The Headley’s didn’t flinch, they moved between the samples and accomplished a monumental project. I am happy to say that we bonded a little more and I am forever indebted to them for allowing me to spend time with them. For what they couldn’t have known was I needed to be serving, and God always has a way of conjoining his disciples. My time in the south could not have happened without them and they are forever in my hearts as friends, in God.