Isobel

I never met Isobel. In fact, before yesterday, I’m not even sure I knew her name. But here’s what I do know about this beautiful lady.

I know her history. Or at least a bit of it. I know enough of Isobel’s story to know that things were not always easy for her or her family. Yet she remained a devoted mum and dearly loved granny to those who walked beside her through life. In this world that Isobel could not rightly call her true home, joy and suffering mingled together to form something greater than stolen moments of pleasure and prolonged seasons of pain. They formed wisdom. They formed contentment. And they formed the kind of rich, full life that Isobel lived.

I know her legacy. Isobel loved Jesus. She tasted his goodness, she experienced his rescue, and she lived in the shadow of his cross. Grace transformed Isobel, and she could not remain silent. As a Salvationist, she was committed to telling others about Christ’s redeeming love. As a mother, she was faithful to God’s instructions in Deuteronomy 6:6-9…“These commandments that I give you today are to be upon your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. Tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads. Write them on the doorframes of your houses and on your gates.” And now Isobel’s strong faith lives also in her daughter Gail, her son-in-law Keith, and her grandson Rowan. In life, we all must choose the seeds we sow. Isobel chose the Good Seed of the gospel. She chose Jesus. That is her legacy. And what a beautiful, undying legacy it is.

I know her eternity. Isobel is with Jesus. Her journey from the arms of her earthly family to the arms of her Heavenly Father is complete. She worships in his presence, face-to-face with the one who is the way, the truth and the life. She is delighting in the place he prepared for her, a place beyond her wildest imagination. And she has seen how Jesus caught all her earthly tears in the palms of his hands. Now, those tears have been tenderly wiped away. For Isobel, there is no more pain, no more sin, no more waiting. She is home at last. She is home to stay.

Isobel, I can’t wait to meet you. And Gail, I love you. How I wish I lived near enough to hold your hand and hear all your memories of your mum.

More
by Andrew Peterson



This is not the end here at this grave
This is just a hole that someone made
Every hole was made to fill
And every heart can feel it still
Our nature hates a vacuum

This is not the hardest part of all
This is just the seed that has to fall
All our lives we till the ground
Until we lay our sorrows down
And watch the sky for rain

There is more
More than all this pain
More than all the falling down
And the getting up again
There is more
More than we can see
From our tiny vantage point
In this vast eternity
There is more

A thing resounds when it rings true
Ringing all the bells inside of you
Like a golden sky on a summer eve
Your heart is tugging at your sleeve
And you cannot say why
There must be more

There is more
More than we can stand
Standing in the glory
Of a love that never ends
There is more
More than we can guess
More and more, forever more
And not a second less

There is more than what the naked eye can see
Clothing all our days with mystery
Watching over everything
Wilder than our wildest dreams
Could ever dream to be
There is more…