In Memory of Austin Weaver--A Light over His Grave

Today I drove over to Eastonville Cemetery for a second time to visit the grave of Austin Weaver, a fellow violinist of Carrie's, who had been laid to rest last Friday not far away from our home.

 Austin--the boy who, when asked just a week before his death what his best dream was, answered, "My best dream is to be with Jesus." 

And one week later, God let his dream come true. He was just 24 years of age.

The sun had shone beautifully in the chilly air of the outdoor service where we heard the heartfelt eulogies about a beautiful life, short but well lived.

Austin was a people-lover who had a habit of trying to be the last one to see anyone off who came to visit, accompanying them out the door to the vehicle. Ever since he was young, Austin would see his father off to work every day, going out with his father to the car and then running to the front door and porch where he would wave until his father was out of sight over the hill. To the day of his death, he would wave his father and other family members off.

Children would hang onto him at church because they knew they were loved. The man who talked about that said his young children had never noticed much when someone died, but when they heard about Austin, they just sobbed. The man said that there are millions of babies who never saw life outside their mothers' wombs, and perhaps God needed a babysitter up in heaven, though God could surely take care of them all! It was just a sweet thought.

 

One person told of how Austin loved to be with a group of Chinese foreign exchange students one summer. He mingled with them, learning Chinese. At the goodbye party for the students at the end of the summer, Austin took two of the helium balloons and breathed in some of the helium, and then went around speaking Chinese in a helium voice! Before the evening was out, hardly a single balloon was left because lots of others were busy getting helium voices, too! Austin just connected with people like this--not only with kindness and genuine interest, but with fun!

Austin genuinely loved God and meditated often and deeply in God's Word. He trained himself to do hard things. He would sleep on the hard ground sometimes, take cold showers, and drink horrible drinks chock full of herbs! He never talked back to his father. Never in his whole life, his dad said. And he never got mad. 

How big can one's eyes get? None of my children were like that. Not one.  My kids are ordinary.

"I had dreams for my son until two weeks ago," the dad said. "But sometimes God's dreams for our sons are different than ours. I was thinking how good a husband Austin would be, and how wonderful a father. He would be so loving and fun a father! I should have been the one to leave a legacy for my son; instead, my son left me a legacy."

 

And what a legacy! I can't even begin to have a legacy like that. But I can learn to be more like Austin, who tried to follow Christ. I can open a door for someone, pick up something for someone, meet someone at the gate instead of waiting for them to come in the house before greeting them, accompany them to their vehicle instead of saying goodbye at the door, just do little things that make them feel more valued. Most of all, I can ask God to help me to be more like Christ, instead of trying to do so much; to fill my heart with that same genuine love and respect for God and for my fellowman.

The day after the burial, I went back to the cemetery in the afternoon when I had some free time. As I stood looking at the quiet little grave, the dirt already smoothed over, I noticed something about the cross-shaped flower arrangements. Something was buzzing around the flowers--like the people in Austin's life who just came around because they were attracted to his friendliness and love and goodwill. Not just one but at least two bees, either yellow jackets or honeybees, were looking for something sweet.

I stood there watching for a while, and again today, as I knelt to snap a photo, a sudden fragrance wafted by. Those flowers were still fragrant! I thought what a picture it was of the Christlike life that Austin had lived--a sweet, fragrant life that made Christianity attractive to others. He wasn't perfect--one time at six years old, when his mom asked him to put away the laundry, he put the laundry back into the dirty clothes hamper and said, when he was caught, "I love laundry  so much that I thought we could just wash  it again." So no, he wasn't perfect all his life, but he was genuine, and he was friendly, and he loved God and his fellowman.

He loved them so much that a grown man wandered over to the graveside after the burial and just stood there and cried. He just stood and stood there, crying.

 Austin's example drew me back to his graveside, too, and that doesn't happen very often.I went again this afternoon, as I mentioned at first, because I had forgotten my phone/camera that day and I wanted to take a few pictures for this post. The sun was about to set, and I couldn't help noticing what looked like a wide ray of light, which, when I positioned the camera just right, stood right over the flowers on the grave.

It was easy to feel that the light that was in Austin's life was still shining--brighter and brighter

unto the perfect day.