We said good-bye to her last evening. Elegantly adorned in a deep fuchsia dress with her silvery, full coiffure swept perfectly to her right side, Inez Perkins was laid to rest in a pecan-wood coffin next to her beloved Calbert. During the service, she was surrounded by colorful sprays of the most delicious variety, a veritable garden that would rival the finest of Biltmore. It was as if God himself planted a garden and then, most tenderly, lowered his precious daughter to rest amongst the splendor of its blossoms.
Inez resting in her garden. She would have liked that very much.
Inez was at home in her garden. She was a woman of the earth. Whether picking beans, shelling pecans, shucking corn, or tending to her flowers, Inez loved getting her hands dirty and getting next to God’s creation. Like her Father, Inez was good at growing things.
She planted.
She tended.
She watered.
She harvested.
And, ultimately, she relished the fruits of her labor–a wide variety of seeds come to fruition that would both bless her stomach and enrich her soul.
My friendship with Inez was one of those soul seeds planted in the summer of 2004 when ministry life led us to pitch our tent in Goldsboro, NC. Despite the thirty-six-year gap in our ages, we became fast friends. I had two toddlers and two teenagers under roof and she was a recent widow, living alone in her house yet amply surrounded by other family homes on what I affectionately would term the “Perkins’ Compound.”
Inez felt like “home” to me; apparently, she felt the same because she welcomed me into her life as if I had always been there … always been one of hers … a friendship waiting to be planted, tended, watered, harvested, and relished by the deep well of love springing up from her heart.
For fifteen years, I have known the love of Inez Perkins, and although ministry life would move my family away from Goldsboro in 2010, Inez never lost sight of me. She cared for me from a distance and, on occasion, up close. Our friendship required it; it was just that special.
But last year, through no fault of our own, we did lose sight of one another for a season. Our lives changed in dramatic ways. My life centered around the survival and physical needs of my son while Inez’s centered around the survival and physical demands of her aging body. Time was lost; words between us were few. But even then, even there in that space of separation where the seed of our friendship laid seemingly dormant in the dark of winter, God was planning … planting … a spring garden. He is, after all, in the resurrection business.
In June of this year, our ministry moved us back closer to Goldsboro. And when the call came in regarding Inez’s failing health, I was granted a ring-side seat to the last mile of her earthly pilgrimage. In our final visit together last Thursday, I talked to Inez about going home; I even brought my classroom flashcards that illustrate heaven in an elementary yet concrete way. I prayed for her, held her hand, and as the tears began to fall from my eyes, she lifted her hand to wipe them away. Gently I cradled her beautiful face in my palms and told her,
“Well done, good and faithful servant. Your Father is waiting for you. We’ll be right behind you, friend. I love you, Inez Perkins.”
Unexpectedly she returned my words: “I love you too.”
And with that benediction, we released one another to the journey ahead. My journey took me back to Benson. Her journey took her home to heaven–a resurrection garden planted by God himself, the likes of which colors and blossoms we’ve yet to see but can only imagine.
Inez resting in her garden. Yes, I imagine that she likes it very much. And so I say …
Until we get there,
rest in peace;
Tend your garden,
enjoy the feast.Prepared for you
by God alone,
heaps of treasure
to us yet unknown.Until we get there,
until we see,
what you now behold,
what we’ll finally be–Complete and whole,
finished at last,
full of his presence,
a joy unsurpassed.Welcome home, sweet girl,
a job well done,
a life well-lived,
a life just begun.Forever together
with those you have known,
forever together
with seeds you have sown.So beautifully, so faithfully,
so tenderly grown,
you’re God’s special child,
he calls you his own.I miss you just now,
I’ll think of you often,
I’ll long for the day
when this sorrow will soften.And give way to the moment,
when I see what you see,
A garden, a forever,
that belongs also to me.From a distance I glance it,
just up ‘round the bend,
Not long from this parting,
I’ll hug you my friend.So, save me a seat
at the table of grace,
Next to you,
next to Jesus,
once again …
face to face. (for Inez ©8/21/19-allrightsreserved)
Until then, peace for the journey,
PS: I first learned about gerbera daisies from Inez. She grew them in her garden, and I fell in love with them upon seeing them for the first time. Last night, I plucked one from an arrangement to bring home as inspiration. I have no doubt that the gardens of heaven will be filled with them, especially if Inie has any say in the matter. I like imagining her in that role. Also, for those paying attention, you just might see Inie’s influence on the front cover of Peace for the Journey. Not only is that her farm path, but Amelia is holding her daisies. Inie’s beauty lives on in the hearts of those who have eyes to see, minds to conceive, and hearts to believe that God is all around us.
