A Dedication

Every now and then holidays fall just right during the week. I think this 4th of July was one of those for our family. Oh, it wasn’t exactly our traditional celebration (2 asked where was the fried chicken?) Our youngest and his family could not be with us, but for a non-traditional holiday, it seemed really good.

Saturday night was our annual carry-in picnic with fireworks at the farm of our dearest friends. This was the 17th year for the cook-out, and around 125 people or more were there—all ages ranging from elderly seniors to infants being passed around by doting baby-lovers.

This farm home is an amazing place. Fifteen years or so ago, Martin and Shirley were sitting at their kitchen table gazing at the pond behind their empty, flat back yard, when Martin mused that they needed a waterfall. Being huge fans of Home and Garden TV, they had seen that done on television. A landscaper was hired to build a small hill and a beautiful waterfall. That was the beginning.

In the years following, areas of landscaped beauty spread. A shady park complete with a large tree house was added; then came a lazy stone-lined creek cascading from the park to a lily pond with a walking bridge over it. Later, a knoll was created with great stone steps leading to a shady area overlooking the lily pond.

Each year at the 4th of July cookout, all would tour the immaculately groomed areas, oohing and ahhing over every new addition. It was always a peaceful time for relaxing and appreciating the array of flowers, plants, and rocks, each chosen and carefully placed with love.

Following the tours and the great food, everyone would settle down in lawn chairs or on blankets to enjoy the fireworks display, also carefully selected and then set off by one of our own (his personal passion).

The gathering this year brought one additional activity, a very bittersweet one. Some months ago, our beloved Martin moved from his beautiful farm to a more beautiful place in heaven. Shirley decided to make the top of the knoll into a small memorial garden for Martin, and this year we held a dedication of it in his memory.

At the short service, we sang “In the Garden” and the words of that old hymn spoke volumes. Several people shared their fond memories of this smiling farmer from small-town America. One neighbor eloquently expressed that no one ever needed to be told that Martin was a Christian. He lived it! Finally, his mother took the microphone to rejoice through a few tears how greatly amazed and blessed she was to learn how her son’s life, even though he had traveled very little, had impacted so many lives.

That said it all. Martin was an Ambassador for Jesus, and the beauty of his life is reflected in us and in that garden.

♫ I come to the garden alone
While the dew is still on the roses
And the voice I hear falling on my ear
The Son of God discloses.

He speaks, and the sound of His voice,
Is so sweet the birds hush their singing,
And the melody that He gave to me
Within my heart is ringing.

I’d stay in the garden with Him
Though the night around me be falling,
But He bids me go; through the voice of woe
His voice to me is calling.

And He walks with me, and He talks with me,
And He tells me I am His own;
And the joy we share as we tarry there,
None other has ever known. ♫