The Founder of His Freedom

I wrote this poem June 28, 2006 in memory of my Great-Uncle Spencer, my grandpa's youngest brother. We lost him to myelodisplastic syndrome, which is related to leukemia, where the bone marrow stops producing blood cells. He had a bone marrow transplant, which prolonged his life for a while. Having lost him shortly before Independence Day, it occurred to me he was celebrating with many of our Founding Fathers.

He lived in a nation founded on faith
Founded by men with God’s love in their hearts
And God’s freedom in their souls
He watched the fireworks each year
Telling of the freedom they bought
And of the sacrifices they made
That this nation might be free

Now he can enjoy Independence Day
With the founders of our nation’s freedom
What better way to celebrate
Than to feast with the men who signed the Declaration of Independence?

The illness took its toll
While his family watched and prayed
His dependence on the doctors and medicine grew
As God graciously prolonged his life
And the glimmer of freedom from the sickness grew
Until the day God set him free

This is his Independence Day
Forever free from the pain that tormented him
Now he can worship at the feet
Of the great Founder of his freedom

One day he gave his life to God
To the One who bought our freedom
And with His blood signed the ultimate Declaration of Independence from sin and death

Now he can stand alongside
The founders of our nation’s freedom
And bow before the great Founder of our freedom in Christ!
Who needs fireworks
When you can run into the dazzling brilliance
And with our founding fathers
Fall and worship our great Founding Father, the Founder of all our freedom?

Uncle Maynard

I wrote this poem September 28, 2000 in memory of my Great-Uncle Maynard, shortly after we lost him to cancer. A World War 2 veteran, he was honored by the navy at his burial with a 3-gun salute. He was a farmer in Montana for many years. This poem was printed in the program at his memorial.

I also mentioned him, though not by name, in my tribute to his dog Daisy the following year.

A lifetime of farming
A lifetime of joy and pain
A lifetime of gentleness and love
You made it through the Depression
You made it through the War
You made it through Y2K
You lived your life so well
You lived your life a child of God

Well done, Uncle Maynard!
You were an example to your family
An example to your friends
An example to all you met
I can almost hear God saying,
"Well done, My faithful son!"

What a relief to know your pain is gone!
I know you suffered so much
But I'm still sad that you are gone
I miss you, Uncle Maynard
I can't hold back my tears
There's a family here who misses you

But our sadness is tempered with joy
Joy to know we'll see you again
Joy to know you are healed
Joy to know your cancer is gone
Replaced by a dazzling robe
And a crown glittering with the jewels of Heaven

You are at peace
You are home
In the arms of our Great Father
Praising Him forevermore

Paul Heaven

It was 1991. We had just gotten back to the US from the Philippines, with plans to return in a year. In previous furloughs, we had lived on Washington State's Olympic Peninsula, but this time we would be east of the Puget Sound, attending United Evangelical Free Church in Seattle.

I remember the first social gathering we attended. I met the Heavens and the Beckmans, two couples who would grow to be great friends, and both couples would become important in my life. Along with several other youth, we walked from church to the nearby Westernco Donuts (they have amazing apple fritters). Having just returned from the tropical Philippines, I was freezing. It was July. My 13-year-old mind was wondering how many degrees below 0 it was, while everyone else was wearing t-shirts and shorts.

At that time, we had weekly potlucks at church. Paul and Cathy Heaven had a great sense of humor, and they would bring angeled eggs to the potlucks on occasion. After all, if your name is Heaven, why would you think of bringing deviled eggs?

That summer, we had a church campout north of Seattle, and one day we went for a hike up Sauk Mountain. As we approached the trailhead from the parking lot, we encountered a sign-in sheet, and we signed in. We had a good laugh as the previous group had signed "The Heavenly Host"...and here we were with the Heavens! (When we got to the top, we got to introduce the Heavens to the Heavenly Host.) Sometime earlier, a minor landslide had taken out parts of the path up the hill, and consequently, parts of the switch-back path were narrower than the rest. With my fear of heights, I was terrified as we went over those parts. It was Paul who took my hand each time we reached a narrow part and got me across. I don't know how I would have made it up the hill without him there to help. That increased my respect for him, and when we got back home, I made some blackberry jam to thank him. (It was blackberry season, and as we didn't have blackberries in the Philippines, I made the most of it.)

Paul went out of his way to spend time with me, and he had a great ministry. At a time when I was known by my peers at school for not going to the cinema, he took me to my first cinematic movie. 101 Dalmatians was being re-released, and it was the first movie I ever saw in a regular theater.

As 1992 came along, they started expecting their first child. It was an exciting time, and near the end of the year, little Ethan was born. Cathy taught me how to hold him, and Ethan was the first baby I held properly. It was a very memorable day.

Though we ended up not returning to the Philippines as we were planning, Paul and Cathy and Ethan had to move on. We kept in touch off and on, and we heard about more kids joining their "Heavenly host." I have yet to meet their other kids (who are mostly grown by now), but maybe I will someday.

Years later, we got word that Paul had come down with cancer. They caught it, but it came back. After months of struggles, I got word this morning that my dear friend slipped into the presence of his Savior.

I am so grateful to Paul and Cathy for reaching out to me (literally at times) and loving a missionary kid who felt more at home in the Philippines. That they would take time to get to know me, just to hang out at times, and to help in other ways as well, spoke volumes. They were instrumental in my transition to 8th grade and high school in the US, and if not for them, I would not be who I am today. I only hope I can be as caring and helpful to others as they were to me.

Thank you, Paul. I look forward to seeing you in Heaven.

Now please excuse me while I go cry...

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