I wasn’t born and raised here, as Randy was, but the mountains got into my blood anyway. Now we are leaving after nearly 20 years of imbibing the air and feasting on the vistas of the southern West Virginia mountains.

They say of those born here who leave, the mountains will call them back. Randy did leave here thinking he would never return. It was a Something greater than these mountains that called him back to them, and me with him. Now that same Something greater—God our Father, creator of these mountains and of all the earth—is calling us away to another place, a place with distant mountains and an abundance of flat fields.

But they are right, these Appalachian mountains have woven their magic into the fibers of our hearts—and they will always call to us. Though we had months to emotionally disengage from the ties of “place”—this place we have called home for 20 years, this place of a calling of God to labor with him in his vineyard, his harvest field—as we drive away from our now empty house, our neighbors and especially our friends and co-laborers who continue in the work, we see through misty eyes and swallow around lumps in our throats.

Neither Randy nor I have ever before been tied to “place”. Both of us moved a lot as children, and we moved so often after marriage, I gave up counting a long time ago. So living in one house for almost 20 years is a record for both of us. And we discovered we had become emotionally tied to this “place” as never before.

This place is not just the place we experienced the poignant and aching beauty of nature, but this is the place we embraced the ache of human need in the people around us, and experienced the love of God poured out—in us, and through us, and through them to us.

And this is good. For we are made in the image of God, the God of love, who gave. We followed God to these mountains and gave, and loved. And miles of distance cannot take away an iota of that love, for love is one thing that is eternal; it transcends time and space. Love is one of those things we are told will last when all else fails. It is love that binds our hearts to the mountains and people of West Virginia and it is love that compels us, the love of Christ, to now leave these mountains and people in the capable hands of co-laborers, and travel to another place where the God of love calls us. A place where there are other beauties of nature and more human need to embrace. A place where we will continue to co-labor with God in his fields of harvest.

And that is the highest love of all.

On Sunday, September 14, Randy and I left West Virginia but not the ministry of Mustard Seeds and Mountains (soon to be known as Mission as Life). We will, by God’s grace as he is leading us, be opening new doors of service in the Western and Southwestern United States. Lacy and Shawna Blankenship continue on in West Virginia, holding down the fort in our absence, awaiting the newest reinforcements to join them, Nate and Trudy Bertram and family. Nate and Trudy are just beginning to raise support in their hometown of Columbus, OH. Their goal is to move to WV by March of next year. Rejoice and pray with us that in all these changes God is magnified!

Inscrutable are Your ways, Oh Lord. (from Isaiah 40:28)

“To be a sacramental personality means that the elements of the natural life are presenced by God as they are broken providentially.” Oswald Chambers, quoted in “My Utmost for His Highest” (September 30)

I have been privileged to know a “sacramental personality”, one who experienced the breaking work of God in various ways and blossomed with quiet beauty, “presenced by God”, through each trial and joy.

Though we laid to rest the “earthly tent”, the body of my mother a few days ago, she is more alive today than ever she was living on this earth. I rejoice, by faith, with her! Hers now is the life we all long for and anticipate. Though we do not wish to leave this life, we at the same time earnestly desire to be “clothed” with the life which will never end. My mom has now this new wardrobe and the desire of her heart fulfilled: to be in the presence of her God and Savoir whom she loves with all her being, and join in worshipping Him with those she loves who preceded her.

At mom’s funeral my brother Daniel read a eulogy he wrote in her honor. I share it with you.

Kindness

In Memory of Luella Rickett

Memory is the genesis of one’s future.  It shapes the mind toward good or evil.  It rules the life by the character of its contents. 

The memory of a mother is perhaps the most formative of all memories. 

The memory of a godly mother is exceeded only by the memory of God. 

I want to share with you some memories of my mother, Luella Rickett, known affectionately as Peg. 

My memory of Mom is infused with the fragrance of Christ. 

She loved Jesus and that love framed her life. 

It is said that the measure of a woman is her prayer life. 

Who in her family or circle of friends can say she never prayed for them?  Not one.

She prayed for countless strangers too.

As for me, I am alive because she prayed for me. 

The Word of God and prayer was her daily bread. 

She didn’t always have sunny days, but she always gave thanks to God. 

Even in her dying, when disease stripped her memory and words came only in fragments, when asked what she would like to say in a letter to her friends, she said, “I want to say what I’m thankful for.” 

Every memory of my mother glows with kindness.

Just as the moon reflects the light of the sun, my mother reflected the kindness of God. 

The beauty of her kindness shines in the love of her children, the admiration of her friends, and the respect of strangers. 

She was gentle and compassionate toward all. 

She wasn't one to chide or hold a grudge.

She was patient with my waywardness though uncompromising in her devotion to Jesus. 

She forgave my wildness and endured my absence without complaint.

It was Mom’s unconditional love that led a young troubled woman to Christ who later became my wife.

Mom wore modesty like a ball gown, elegant and plain. 

And though I never saw her dance, forbearance moved her graciously through every injury, struggle, and loss.  

Anyone who knew her will understand why I define kindness by the memory of my mother.

And now dear family and friends I must tell you, Mom’s passing is a temporary loss.  For in the words of the Apostle Paul, “We believe that Jesus died and rose again and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him.  For the Lord himself will come down from heaven, with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet call of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first.  After that, we who are still alive and are left will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. And so we will be with the Lord forever” (1 Thessalonians 4:14, 16-17; NIV 1984).

This hope is the memory of the future and because of it we remember Luella Rickett not only for the godly woman she was but for the glorious woman she is today in the presence of the Lord. 

After the funeral Randy, who as a young pastor in Canada preached at many funerals, commented that he had never been at a person’s funeral where Jesus was so often spoken of as having been seen in the person’s life. 

A sacramental personality, one shaped by the hand of God through the hard times of life, into a thing of beauty, one in which God is pleased to dwell.

I love you, Mom. Thank you…for everything.