Come and See What God Has Done

“My troubles are all over,

And I am at home.”

- Anna Sewell

It all began over Bahama Buck’s Italian ice. I was seven months pregnant with Elissa, and Nathan had taken me out to celebrate our fourth anniversary. His eyes danced and he was so excited he was practically bouncing in the booth as he slipped a card across the table.

“Happy anniversary!” he crowed as I opened the card and unfolded…a map of the trip I’d dreamed of taking for a lifetime. “An Adventure for Kindred Spirits” was spelled across the top. We’d land in Boston, bop around Harvard, Bar Harbor, and Bay of Fundy, and then – wonder of wonders – end up in Prince Edward Island, the land of my dreams.

A month earlier, Nate had asked me: “Where would you go if you could go anywhere in the world?”

“Prince Edward Island!” I responded without missing a beat. I had devoured the Anne of Green Gables movies and books countless times since I was five years old, and the landscapes studded with unbelievable color and utter serenity had made up my dreams ever since. Nate had already taken one unforgettable trip to PEI with his family. He planned this trip as a total surprise, our last hurrah before becoming a family of three. We left the next day.

The whole vacation was magical, but PEI felt like coming home. I spent that weekend in a state of perpetual ecstasy, feeling simultaneously that this couldn’t possibly be real life, and that my dreams had come true. All too soon, it was time to leave, but I carried a piece of the Island – L.M. Montgomery’s “land of ruby, emerald, and sapphire” – irrevocably in my heart forever afterwards.

Fast forward to 2016. Nate had been gone a year and a half, and I was suffocating. An abundance of family and friends had housed me and Elissa, supporting us every moment of every day while I struggled to make sense of this new reality, the nightmare that never ended. My period of numbness was finally over, and I was desperate to be alone with my grief, surrounded by the salt water that Isak Dinesen calls “the cure for anything: sweat, tears or the sea.”

I needed it all, needed it now. So I put 18-month-old Elissa and our clothes in my car, and drove 16 hours north. Physically crossing the Confederation Bridge to my beloved PEI unlocked something in me. I cried for weeks: washing dishes, walking by the sea, biking through meadows studded with wild lupins, every naptime and bedtime. I feverishly re-read our love story, recorded so meticulously in dozens of journals kept over our eight years together, with all the fervor of a new romance impossible to put down. Then I would come up for air, gasping with the gut punch of how it all ended, in disbelief over what had happened to us when we were so happy. And I wrote. Feverishly, in ever spare moment, pages and pages of my devastation, disappointment, distrust.

The end of that summer brought no magic healing or resolution, but for the first time there was peace. I readied myself to reengage with society, already dreaming of my next trip north. We repeated the drill in 2017, ’18, and ’19, each summer returning to familiar places and growing friendships with a deepening sense of home. And I began to look at properties.

All the major life decisions I was considering felt incomplete without a permanent haven in PEI. So when I stumbled across the yellow-doored white house in New London while perusing my friend Heidi’s Instagram during the early days of Covid, I knew. Close to the water. Check. Nestled in the heart of a small town, minutes from our favorite people and attractions. Check. Fully furnished, with a guest cottage. Check, check. This was It – the home I’d so long imagined; the “two-story house with a yard” of Elissa’s dreams. Hands shaking and heart pounding, I texted Heidi. The house was still for sale, and she walked me through on Skype. The whole world was at a standstill, we were locked down in France, and I bought a house in Canada – never imagining it would be two years before we could get there.

Elissa didn’t know about the house. Even last month when I packed a U-haul trailer full of furniture and pictures and books, she didn’t suspect a thing. Sweet, trusting girl that she is, she accepted my explanations: “We’ll be in PEI all summer, so we’ll need a lot of stuff.”  

We spent a week at Kindred Spirits, the inn Nathan took me to eight years ago, reuniting with our favorite places and people for the first time in three years. Then, on the first Saturday in June, we drove to The House, allegedly to meet the exquisite Island photographer, Simon, for our annual photo shoot. Simon snapped away as Elissa, blissfully unaware, picked dandelions and explored the yard of her new home. Then, while his tripod covertly filmed away in the background, I asked her a question:

“Elissa, do you believe that God loves you, and knows the desires of your heart before you even ask Him?”

A curious, tentative “yess…”

“Do you believe that He LOVES to give you good gifts?”

“Yes?!”

“What if I told you that He had a two-story house, with a yard, on PEI? For you!”

She gasped and stared with disbelief. I produced the keys and gestured grandly.

“THIS is your house! Welcome home!!”

I will never forget the next few moments. Elissa flew into my arms and stayed there, motionless, tears of joy and disbelief glistening on her lashes. “Thank you,” she finally whispered, and we set off to explore our house – the Island summer home of our dreams, where we will rest and discover and create and continue to build a beautiful life together. This house is a gift from our Father. It is a gift from Nate, who first brought our little family here eight years ago. One day, I dream of sharing this gift with others in need of the same peace and respite that I’ve found here.

As I type this, we’ve been in our summer home for one month. Rain is pattering on the windows; a cool breeze stirs the maple trees and whips the waves of the ocean on the horizon. I am overwhelmed by God’s faithfulness. “Weeping may remain for a night, but joy comes in the morning.” Here, on Prince Edward Island, is peace…is home.

A Portrait of a Life Well Lived

This week I’ve spent a lot of time contemplating goals for 2022, and what constitutes a good life. Then this morning, on what would have been Nathan’s 34th birthday, I came across a letter written to Elissa by one of his dear friends, Bryce Hoover, on Christmas Eve of 2014. I could easily scrap my own goals, to-do lists, mission statement, and budget and live by this letter instead. Bryce eloquently and profoundly captured the essence of the most compelling man I’ve ever known. It would take me a lifetime to achieve the excellence with which Nathan lived 26 short years. With Bryce’s permission, I’ve copied the letter here. For anyone seeking fresh vision and purpose for 2022, read on and be inspired. Happy birthday Nate - you are no longer physically here to celebrate, but it is you who have left us all with the lasting and eternal gift of your life.

Dear Elissa,

My name is Bryce. I’m sitting down to write you this note on Christmas Eve, just a couple months after your father’s death. I wanted to write this note to you to tell you how I knew your dad, what kind of man he was, and what he meant to me personally.

Your dad and I were roommates in my junior and his senior years of college at the University of Maryland. He and I moved in to a house together with two other guys and shared a room. Living with your dad for a year changed my life. I never could have imagined what an impact he would leave on me. Your dad never hit the snooze button. When his alarm went off, he jumped out of bed, turned it off, went to the bathroom, brushed his teeth, and read his Bible at his desk before starting his day. At the beginning of each semester he would go to each class, get the syllabus, and pick one or two classes to attend. He took responsibility for his own education and determined that, in most cases, he would be better off teaching himself the material than learning it from a professor. His 3.98 GPA at Maryland in Mechanical Engineering proved that he was correct. I never took any classes with Nathan since I was studying Civil Engineering, but I saw his work ethic up close and personal. He rarely stayed up late studying because he was so efficient during the day. His assignments were always clean and organized. One semester, the Mechanical Engineering students had to do a product design capstone project. Your dad had a strong leadership presence and surrounded himself with an exceptional team that produced the most outstanding deliverable that the professor had ever seen from any group of students in his entire career.

But your dad wasn’t just a leader at school. He was a leader in our home as well. I was a year younger than your dad and looked up to him for his self-discipline, commitment to excellence, and love for the Lord. In this way, Nathan was already playing a passive discipleship role in my life. While studying or just hanging out in our room together, your dad would frequently ask how he could pray for me. He was incredibly gifted but also very humble. He shared his struggle against sin with me and asked for prayer and accountability. We regularly talked, held each other accountable, and prayed together in our room. Those were sweet times of fellowship together. These informal times of discipleship spilled over into regular meetings which your dad initiated with the rest of the guys in the house, called “Challenge Groups.” At the time, your dad was not in any formal leadership role in the church, but he did not wait to be placed in a position of leadership to start investing in and discipling other men. He explained that the goal of the group was to push each other to be the men that God has called us to be. Over the course of this group, we each wrote mission statements for our lives, set up budgets, and talked about how the Lord wanted us to use our money, time, and relationships for the kingdom of God. Writing a mission statement was particularly eye-opening for me. I had to proactively think through what kind of man I wanted to be, what kind of relationship I wanted with the Lord, what sort of family life I was committed to, what I wanted to accomplish through my life’s work, what my values were, etc. Writing these things down, articulating them to the rest of the guys, and receiving their feedback was incredibly helpful and set me on a lifelong trajectory of pursuing godly mission-oriented living and involving others in the process.

One thing that came up in your dad’s mission statement and discussions of values was the high importance he placed on leadership. Learning about leadership was one of his values. He was always reading books on leadership and imparting and implementing what he learned. He wanted each guy in the group to grow into strong leaders. He saw that as God’s call on us and would continue to challenge us to grow in leadership throughout his life, giving us books on leadership and, most importantly, being a great leader himself and modeling what that looked like as a godly man.

One of the best ways in which I got to see your dad model exceptional godly leadership was in the way he led the courtship with your mom. Your dad fell in love with your mom in high school and they dated for four years before finally getting married after college. Four years is a long time to date for anyone, but especially for a godly Christian couple with a commitment to purity before marriage. It was even longer for someone like Nathan who was incredibly intentional to date your mom with the intent of deciding if they should get married. He found that out very early on in the relationship and fought to lead and maintain godly standards of purity as they waited until they could get married. I noticed two things about your parents while they were dating. First, your dad always spoke very highly of your mom. He regularly praised her and talked about how amazing he thought she was. And second, your mom flourished when she was with your dad. Your dad loved her, praised her, prioritized her, and cared for her and this created a relational environment for her to flourish – she was happy, confident, and glowing. Your dad made her very happy. He had a very deep voice, but when your mom called every night to say goodnight, his voice would go up about three octaves, changing from deep baritone to mid tenor.

The summer after he graduated, your dad and mom got married. He asked me to be in the wedding, which was an honor for me. The bachelor party was an epic man trip. We went on a canoe/fishing/camping trip – gutted fish around a campfire, watched helplessly as our supply canoe capsized, told stories around the campfire, and played some incredibly competitive and heated games of basketball…your dad was the most competitive person I’ve ever met. We topped off the weekend by going to Outback Steakhouse for dinner, only your dad was forced, by me, to wear a bright blue fleece onesie. He embraced it like a good sport and we had a good laugh.

The wedding was a beautiful celebration and a culmination of four years of love, forbearance, patience, and restraint. It was amazing to see them make lifelong vows of commitment to each other and see their purity rewarded with the joyful start of a new life together. After a picture-perfect outdoor summer wedding in northern Maryland, your mom and dad moved to Texas. Your dad was always intentional to keep up with me and called at least once a month. He had a list of five guys that he was committed to maintaining a thriving long-distance friendship with. These calls typically lasted about an hour and we used the time to catch up on life, ask each other advice, and pray for each other. He always concluded with asking me how he could pray for me and then did so on the phone. I remember when he told me that he was making plans to apply to Harvard Business School. I was so inspired to dream big and go for it. I asked him what he thought about me applying to the business school at Oxford. He was very supportive and gave me some great advice for how to prepare.

Your dad excelled in his work. All his hard work at engineering school was paying off, and his leadership gift was not just expressed at work, but also at their new church where he began to take on significant leadership responsibility with the youth ministry. The video those kids made for his memorial service is a testimony to the impact he had on them. We would frequently talk on the phone about ministry challenges and how church life was going. There were challenges and issues along the way that discouraged him, but he pressed through and persevered. The fruit in the church was evident.

In January of this year, Rachel and I had a layover in Houston, but there was an unusual ice storm that shut down the airport and we had to spend the night in Houston. I tried to get in touch with your dad to stay with them, but in typical Nathan fashion, he was already in bed asleep at 8:30 pm. I left a message telling them that we were unexpectedly in town and that we’d love to get breakfast in the morning. Your mom and dad picked us up the next day and we went out to breakfast at IHOP. We chatted about life and caught up. Among other things, your parents had just run a marathon in Disneyworld. But the best news they gave us by far was the news that your mom was expecting. After a miscarriage, your mom was pregnant with you and they couldn’t have been more excited. That breakfast was a sweet time of rare face-to-face fellowship. Afterwards, they drove us back to the airport. Rachel suggested that we take a picture together before saying goodbye. I’m so glad we did. It was the last time I ever saw him.

Later in the year, both my and your dad’s attention turned towards grad school applications. He was planning to apply to Harvard and I was applying to Cambridge and Oxford. I called your dad on several occasions to get advice for my application. One day, I was standing at the top of the Bethesda metro station for almost an hour because your dad had called me back and had some thoughts for my application. “Your story should be a clear trajectory from your past experience to your future goals and should clearly explain how this program is the missing puzzle piece that ties them together,” he advised. “Look at all the key words describing the candidates they’re looking for and incorporate them into your application.” For some reason, our phone call eventually got disconnected and I went down the escalator and got on the metro. That was the last time I heard his voice. The last communication I had with him was on your birthday. He sent me a text saying “Jen and baby girl are doing great!!! She was born at 6:30 last night.” I responded with “So great Nate! Really happy for you guys! What’s baby Farlow’s name?” “Elissa Rose!!!” was the reply.

Less than a month later, on October 5, I was at church when one of the pastors told me that your dad had been killed by a drunk driver driving in the opposite direction. My heart sank and I went into a corner and wept. Everything happened so fast after that – we had a storytelling gathering and time of reflection at the Hoffmans’, the burial, and memorial service all in the same week. It barely felt real. You were there, perfect as could be. You gave everyone something to smile about – coming to grips with never seeing our friend again while at the same time meeting you for the first time. I took off work all week to try to process the tragedy, to journal, to try to make sense of it all. But it doesn’t make sense and there was no point in trying to find it. The only thing I could do was pray, read my Bible, worship, and be with God’s people. One of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do in my life was call all of our friends to deliver the news and to tell them to get on a plan to Maryland for the burial and memorial service.

The sermon your grandfather preached at his son’s funeral was by far the most powerful and spirit-filled sermon I have ever heard. I’ll never forget him telling us that Nathan had chosen to be a man of faith, not a man of doubt…a man who lived his life based on what he knew, not based on what he didn’t know, that Nathan knew God had put him on this earth for a purpose and he lived his life to fulfill and discover that purpose. He then challenged the many friends of Nathan who were facing a crisis in their faith to be like Nathan. It was a powerful and holy moment.

Needless to say, October was an absolutely terrible month, but I clearly saw the power of the gospel on fully display. The body of Christ cared for one another and we reminded each other of the salvation we have in Christ and the glorious hope of the resurrection. We will see Nathan again. You will see your dad again in the life to come, the perfect life we will share with Christ our Lord. Your grandparents are absolutely remarkable in their faith and trust in the Lord. The light of the Holy Spirit is always with His people, but sometimes things in our lives are going well and everything seems so bright that it’s hard to distinguish what light is circumstantial and what light is from the Spirit. Sometimes it is not until all the outside lights in life go dark that we can truly see the light of the Spirit shining out into that darkness through His people. All the outside lights in your grandparents’ life went dark at your dad’s death, but the light of the Spirit shines bright, and it is beautiful.

So, why have I told you all this? Certainly not to tell you that everything will be perfect. It won’t. Nor did I write it to try to leave a rosy, larger-than-life perception of your dad in your mind. He certainly was remarkable. At the memorial service, our friend Dan said he felt like we had lost our captain. That rings true. But still, he was only a man and therefore had imperfections and flaws just like everyone else. Rather, I wrote this so that you would know that your dad was an incredible man that was profoundly respected by his friends, who adored his wife, cherished his daughter, loved the church and was passionately living his life for the Kingdom of God and the good of others. I am so deeply sorry that you will never get to know him in this life. But I hope that, through this note and others, you will be able to piece together what kind of man he was through the multiple perspectives of those who knew, loved, and respected him. I hope that you will be able to attain a firm understanding of who your father was so that you will know how to live in this world as his daughter. He would want to see you live a full and unembittered life. To go through life with great peace and assurance that death truly has been swallowed up in victory and that you have been brought into this world for a purpose. The Enemy would love to thwart that purpose by crippling you with bitterness and hatred toward God for bringing your dad home. Don’t let him win. Resolve to honor the Lord and embrace the path He has led you on by following your dad’s example of living a full life pursuing a deep and intimate relationship with Jesus Christ and loving others along the way. In this you will find life, healing, and wholeness. I love you, Elissa. The Lord be your strength.

Bryce

Seven Years

“Out of these ashes, beauty will rise…” | Stephen Curtis Chapman

Seven October 5ths have passed since our lives changed forever. Every year this day has brought heavy sorrow; crippling memories of the beautiful life that was shattered in the instant that our beloved Nathan was taken from us. October 5 has been a sacred day of pain and memory. Today, seven years later, feels different somehow. The pain is ever-present and will be part of my life forever. Each new friendship and circumstance carries with it the stamp of longing: If they only knew him, they’d understand. And they’d know me, too. Yet on this day, my predominant emotion isn’t pain, but thankfulness. My heart is overwhelmed with gratitude for all that God has done and been to us these past seven years. Psalm 66:5 says: come and see what He has done for us…

            Seven is the biblical number of completion, of fruitfulness and future-orientation. It is overwhelming to think back over the past seven years of brokenness and fragmented existence with the realization that I am healed. I am whole. I live a beautiful life and I lack nothing. My life brims with friendships, purpose, fulfilment, and meaning. I am very aware that this is a rare testimony, and all I can do is point to Him. He has crafted beauty from ashes, and supplied abundant hope, joy, and peace that I thought were lost forever.

            Elissa is now seven; her birthday almost simultaneous with the loss of Nathan. It is inexplicable how she manifests Nathan without remembering him. All I can say is she carries his DNA: his winsomeness, strategic thinking, love for people, passion, energy, humor, far-sightedness, and beautiful tan. To know Elissa is to know her daddy. She lives with a forever longing that will not be fulfilled this side of heaven, and yet she is healthy. She is incandescently happy; she is free. She lives and loves wide-open; she is a tidal wave of joy and adventure. From the outside, her life makes no sense. She should be wounded, and lacking the things that only a father can give. And yet the void has been filled to overflowing. Another man hasn’t stepped in to father her; dozens of them have. Grandfathers and biological uncles and adopted ones and friends, who have known her for one year or seven, have given her a part of their hearts and invested untold amounts in her. Many of them never even met Nathan, and yet my girl is loved on more than most. All this earthly love cannot compare to the hand of her heavenly Father, who has shepherded and guided her since before she knew of His existence. Our story is a testimony to the continuous fulfillment of God’s promises: He satisfies the longing soul, and fills the hungry soul with good things (Ps. 107:9). He sets the lonely in families (Ps. 68:6). He carries His lambs in His arms, holding them close to His heart (Is. 40:11).

            Nate…my beautiful boy. In four short years of marriage you set our family on a trajectory that will carry us through until the day that we’re eternally reunited. Each day of my life for the past seven years has been a love song to you: all that you are and all that you lavished on me. You gave all that you had, your myriad gifts and all your love and devotion, to your girls. We will never be able to thank you enough for embodying excellence in all things. There is no one like you, and the short years that we had together have forever filled my cup to overflowing. Knowing you was to know that God is good, all the time, and that He gives the best gifts. Your absence today doesn’t change the fact that you are the absolute greatest thing that ever happened to me. I will love you and anticipate our reunion for the rest of my life.

           To our precious family and friends scattered around the globe: in my darkest moments of loneliness and grief, I never could have imagined that we would be enveloped and carried by a literal multitude. Your love has held us up when we could not stand. We are here today, healthy, happy, and whole, because you did not give up. You did not forget. I long for the day that Nate and I are together in heaven, our family reunited for eternity, and I get to introduce him to each of you who never met him in this life. I can see him giving you a handshake - no, a bear hug - as his gratitude overflows in that million-dollar smile to you who were the hands and feet of Jesus to his girls when he couldn’t be. I hope that someday we get to thank each of you in person for carrying us in prayer and support over the past seven years. And I hope that when you see us, you see Jesus. My heart cry is that He will shine through us in every smile, every conversation, every laugh and adventure and shared memory. All that we are and accomplish in life is for Him and through Him and because of Him.

With all our love and gratitude,

Jen & Elissa