“Those we love are with the Lord, and the Lord promised to be with us. If they are with Him, and He is with us, they cannot be very far away.” ~Peter Marshall
Christmas is always a busy time of year for most. A couple of years after we began the Toy Drive, my dad called one afternoon with a question…”Would it be okay if Waldecker sent a vehicle to help you deliver the toys?” 
Waldecker was where my dad worked. They are located in Brighton, not too far from us. The wonderful thing was that year we were actually shorthanded on those able to help deliver. The timing was perfect, and later that week, two men from Waldecker came with a van which we filled and off they went to deliver. The following year, my dad came with a large vehicle and we filled it to the brim with toys that he went to deliver. From that point on, he often made our trips to the Flint area whether with toys, Easter baskets or food. My dad was such a kind, loving and giving man…
On the Monday before Christmas, my sister, Robin, her husband, Leo, his brother Luke, and my mom gathered again in my kitchen to decorate cupcakes. 
After they left, I suggested to Mark that we visit them on Thursday of that week. We hadn’t been up to their house in a while, so I called and they were happy to have us come up. Later, when I talked to my mom again, I told my mom that I wanted to stop by the cemetery on the way up. I hadn’t been able to get up there, and to be honest, I hadn’t even thought of it, with all of our activities and deliveries. Mom said she wanted to go too so we agreed to talk on Thursday morning after she got out of work…that most likely we would meet her there on her way home.
As Thursday morning came and went without hearing from my mom, we decided to load the car and head to Brighton before heading up north. There was a couple of things I wanted to get. I called my mom on the way, and we agreed to meet after I finished my last-minute shopping. As I sat in the passenger seat and stared out the window, my thoughts returned to my dad’s passing. They had been with me strongly throughout the week.
You see, earlier in the week, I decided since we were ahead on so many things that I would catch up our 2011 photo album. I had started this Project Life documenting (can’t recommend it enough–here is the link:Becky Higgin’s Products) and I knew, even though I was behind on getting the pictures printed and put in the book, I had maintained photographing throughout the year. How I really wanted to start 2012 with the 2011 pictures physically in their album!
Actually that was why we were heading to Brighton. After printing a bunch of pictures, I realized that the photos of my dad’s passing and his funeral needed their own special album. I had so many, too many for our yearly album, and enough to make up a special one. While I pondered this looking out the window of the car, I was struck with a sudden thought…dad’s headstone…had it come yet? The thought was filled with regret that I hadn’t even thought of it until that very moment…my heart sank though I tried to reassure myself that dad would have understood.
It took longer than I thought in Brighton and around 1:45pm, I called my mom to tell her we were finally on our way. It worked out well, in a way, for Robin was getting off of work and could meet us there too. I reminded my mom to bring my dad’s walker for she wanted to stay and sit for a while–something she had said she wanted to do; to not hurry off. I tried hard not to let the catch in my voice reflect over the phone as I gently urged her to remember.
We pulled into the cemetery ahead of the others and stopped by the visitor center. Everything was so gray…once again. It seems that it is usually gray at the cemetery. I stepped out of the car to take a few pictures. Even with the cloudy skies, the area is still beautiful…I’ll say even peaceful. 
Robin pulled in and we drove over to meet her near my dad’s gravesite. We could see workers in the area and noticed that they had started another area of graves to the right of where my dad is buried. My mom pulled in shortly thereafter, and we walked towards my dad’s grave. They had orange strings everywhere…and we weren’t sure what it was all for.
His grave site is at the top of a small hill and backs up to an area that is lined with American flags. 
We later learned that our dad is buried in the last row that backs up to a beautiful field. There will be no more graves behind him. The workers told us that on any given morning there are usually 30 to 35 deer grazing in the area…something we all knew our dad would have loved.
When we reached the site, we actually walked by it at first. As we came back trying to find it, we saw his marker moved and a hole dug. 
At first, it seemed heart wrenching. My mom was sorely disappointed. For the past several months, it has seemed that neither her nor my father could catch an easy break. First, my dad’s painful passing. The cold, gray day of his funeral. The cemetery has removed the few things my mom has placed by the grave, even though they have been approved. And now this. We noticed that the workers were down the way from us working on another set of graves. Not knowing what to do, we stood there for a few moments. Remember, my mom didn’t want to be in a hurry. Little did we know…
As we were discussing all the possibilities of what was going on, the workers quietly approached dad’s grave. We explained that we were his family and were just visiting, afraid that they might tell us that we needed to leave while they were working on that section. 
As they looked into the hole, they asked if we were there for the setting of his headstone. We shook our heads “no”, in a bit of shock that they might be placing gravestones on that very day…could it really be? Then this one very nice man asked if we would like to see dad’s gravestone placed? 
As we nodded our heads, he said, “Let me place a call.” They stepped away for a few moments, and then returned to work on the hole in the ground. They let the kids look in and took the time to answer our questions as he continued to level out the ground. The other man went for a bucket of gravel and they set the bottom so that they could perfectly align dad’s headstone.
What kind of questions do you ask while waiting? Do you do this all year? 
Yes, they do and sometimes they have to use a jack hammer to break through the ground. How much does it weigh as it looks very heavy? 240 pounds, more than my dad when he passed. Where was it made? How ironic, Minnesota. That’s where our dad was treated for his cancer, and where we spent a lot of our time in the last 16 months. They used lines to bring everything into perfect square, and they come back again each spring to readjust any that move out of place with the frost coming out of the ground. The kindness of these men was remarkable.
“Quiet and sincere sympathy is often the most welcome and efficient consolation to the afflicted. Said a wise man to one in deep sorrow, ‘I did not come to comfort you; God only can do that, but I did come to say how deeply and tenderly, I feel for you in your affliction.'” ~Tyron Edwards
Before we knew it, a little John Deere vehicle pulled up with what appeared to be a headstone in the back of it. Two men hopped out and hoisted it out of the truck. The cart that they would have used to bring it to the gravesite had a flat tire so these two men had to carry this heavy stone all the way up that hill.
I hurried to get a better shot as I saw them coming up the hill. I was switching between my I-phone so I could send out pictures to those who are on our picture list and my regular camera for documenting. As I put my eye to the camera, this shot took my breath away…it made it all too real…once again. While in one moment, I was rejoicing to actually be present knowing that it was a gift from heaven, my heart tore at the thought of seeing his name etched permanently in marble…so beautiful, and yet so painful…
The gentleman who was already there finished emptying out some of the water so that they could set it.
The workers walked it closer and slowly lowered it in the hole. The gentleman in the pink seemed especially sensitive to us as a family and the hard time it was.
Danika, Kaitlyn and Josh were present and had front row seats to this process. Robin, Mark, my mom and I stood in the background. They were so good with the kids, with all of us.
And there it was…in the hole…in its final resting place. We all realized what a gift we had been given. The timing wasn’t lost on us. There are no coincidences, no easily explainable intersection of events. Everything was far too random for that on this Thursday afternoon. The night that the last cupcakes had been picked up, a lady said to us, “You are doing the right thing…continuing to do good for others despite the pain of your grief. It will help you heal.” 
As I stood there watching them place so carefully the last pieces of sod around dad’s headstone, I knew for me, it was a gift from heaven, maybe even from my dad. I could almost see the twinkle in his eye, the smile on his face that he used to have when he was excited to give you something that he couldn’t wait for you to see, and genuine warmth of his love and acceptance. I was gently reminded than that dad would never have wanted us to stop collecting toys, baking cupcakes, delivering gifts…helping others…that wasn’t him or how he did things. He always kept moving…forward. He was always trying to do good for others, even when times were difficult. To me, it was as if God waited patiently and then gave us this amazing Christmas gift that we really needed…in His asbolutely perfect and gracious timing.
To add to the kindness, the gentleman in pink saw me taking pictures, tried to wipe off the remaining mud, lowered the lines, and told us quietly and ever so gently how sorry they all were for our loss. Then they moved away to leave us in the gravity of the moment. It made me pause to wonder how many of God’s angels and servants wander in our presence without us even fully knowing…thank You God for Your love and faithfulness to our dad, our family and to each of us.
“Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.” ~1 Corinthians 1:3
Washing My Windows 