January 10, 2021
Today, I received the call that an old friend will shortly be welcomed home to Jesus’ side. I cried with the sweet friend who had the burden of sharing this news over the phone. We prayed together for comfort and peace for the extended family, and gratitude for the doctors, nurses, and staff that had cared so lovingly for our friend this last month as she has battled Covid. Her lungs are hardening, hospice has stepped in, and tonight they take her off the ventilator. I know that the last labored breath in the hospital room with be followed by her first perfect breath in eternity. But we still grieve.
This sweet friend was my boss when I first started as a house parent. Before she became our boss, we were the persistent email each year that provided her our resumes along with the letter about our desire to work with WinShape Homes. In our program, house parents have a long tenure; the turnover is very infrequent. But we had prayed a long time over this and knew that God’s timing would be perfect and so we waited, asking in each year’s email what steps we should take to be prepared. She always sent back a polite reply that “there are no current openings, but if you are interested in foster care, do….” Each thing she said, we did, followed up the next year with asking what to do next. “Complete the state foster parent class.” “Read these books.” “Do relief parenting in our Rome homes.” Each year, a new resume submitted with a new list of fostering qualifications. This went on for almost four years, when another house parent called us one day and asked, “Have you updated your resume with WinShape recently? I think we have some parents leaving; there may be an opening.” We sent the email assuming we would have the same polite response back, but instead our future boss called us and asked about an interview time.
From that interview on, we learned to love our boss and her heart for the work of WinShape Homes. We came to respect her discernment. She often told us, “It is what it is. And this is what we will do now.” She was gracious as a boss, correcting and connecting. Her love for Homes, us, and all our kids was apparent in all she did.
She retired in 2019, the celebration for her retirement happening when we were scheduled to be at the beach with our kids in July. I wanted to get something special and heartfelt for her. We go to the same beach every summer, and I knew that there was a beautiful little jewelry shop right off the beach. I picked out a silver necklace with a tree of life pendant. It was wrapped in a box, with a ribbon and silver sticker with the shop’s address and “Jewelry by Joy” on it. I mailed it to the office for the party with a note that included the lyrics to part of an Andrew Peterson song, “Planting Trees.”
She rises up as morning breaks.
She moves among these rooms alone before we wake.
And her heart is so full it overflows.
She waters us with love and the children grow.
So many years from now, long after we are gone,
These trees with spread their branches out
and bless the dawn.
I wrote about how grateful we were to be watered by her love and how she had impacted not just her own family, but so many children through WinShape. After the party, I got a thank you note back from her. She told me how meaningful the necklace was because it came from the little beach shop. I had no idea that her husband bought her a piece of jewelry at this little shop each summer when they had their family vacation to the same beach. Her husband had passed away four months earlier and this was the first summer without him. And here at this special occasion of retirement, there was one more box from Joy’s shop.
For what has been so generously planted into me by my boss and dear friend, I in turn plant into others. I think this is the best way to honor her. If we continue to plant, then one day when we are gone these trees will spread their branches out and bless someone. As the rest of the Andrew Peterson song says,
So sit down and write that letter
Sign up and join the fight
Sink in to all that matters
Step out into the light
Let go of all that’s passing
Lift up the least of these
Lean into something lasting
Planting trees.