The day that Truman Scott and Asa Mattes met in heaven, the Mattes family showed up on the doorsteps of the Scott’s Texas Farmhouse at 11 pm after making the 6 hour drive from the Arkansas Ozarks. Before that night our families had never met.
But we were united by loss, by love, and eternal hope.
The loss of our curious toddlers, who we both feel as though we failed to protect—connected by threads of shame and guilt. Bonded by the love we have for our families on earth and for our sons in heaven. And bound by hope in the eternal glory promised to us through Christ’s sufferings.
That late night on the dim farmhouse porch, when we embraced, our hearts knew each other. Our souls were not desperately longing to convey our pain to strangers. The Scotts were intimately acquainted with our sorrow and three years ahead of us on this journey.
After a brief introduction we retreated to the 41’ RV the Scotts rented and placed on their 600 acre farm. The RV was given every detail for us: coffee with plenty of sugar for Paul, fruits and veggies in the fridge, a lake bag with towels and snacks, a diffuser with a serenity blend essential oil, a beautiful new bible, an “In the Valley” necklace for me, a journal, Pens, Truman Foundation merch, gifts, and much more.
The next morning we shared a good ol’ southern breakfast of biscuits and gravy. The table was full—six of the Scott’s little ones and four of ours. A full table always fills my heart.
Tim Scott is a man’s man and calls his shop, plus his acres, of collected farm equipment his “jewelry shop” and my husband loved Tim’s jewelry. They instantly connected—Truman was Tim’s “best fren” and Asa was Paul’s “little buddy”. It was good to see two men, two fathers, grow misty-eyed together and laugh together as they shared their sorrow and joy.
Tiffany is a petite, barefoot, summer dress kind of mamma. Her intentional parenting and the intimacy she shares with her children is beautiful. She is gentle.
The teens connected and spent their time horseback riding and soaking in Texas sun. I cannot begin to understand my children’s pain or their grief and my heart longs for opportunities for them to find friends on this lonely journey.
We spent hours at their private family lake. Children running, jumping, laughing, fishing, and squealing with delight filled the day. On that first day, Tiffany and I were visiting under the umbrella, lounged in the Adirondack chairs, when a heavy cloud let a few sprinkles go. We huddled under the umbrella waiting for them to pass. Then the rain fell harder and we jumped in the lake together.
We swam in grief and in sorrow. And the rain on our cheeks turned to tears. And from in the water you could see the fog lifting—refreshing rain on that parched lake caused hope to rise. Joy and sorrow danced together and hope was rising from the deep.
Our family spent the rest of the weekend in fellowship and in rest. Taking in the slower pace of farm life and intentional community.
From the old church pew on the porch you could hear the creaky sound of a metal windmill and the whinnies from a small herd of horses while you watched the chickens peck the ground. The Texas skies reminded me of the song ‘Home on the Range’ and there was a delightful southern breeze that never stood still.
Children played in the sandbox for hours and spent one dusk catching and releasing over thirty toads! Hammock naps, kayak and sunrise father+son fishing trips, s’mores, grilled dinners, and lake sunsets filled us. We were nourished and rested.
Before we headed for home Tiffany picked up donuts from the bakery and we had Asa Sunday donuts and “mine own coffee”. She never said it but I saw she had planned cinnamons rolls for our departure day but on the morning that we had a pancake breakfast for Truman, I had told her we had Asa Sunday donuts.
If I could put into words our gratitude for the Scotts and The Truman Foundation I would. But I simply cannot.
To invite someone to the messy middle Of your hurt, to break bread together, and to offer hope where there is so much pain—is an astonishing act of love.
The day Truman and Asa met in heaven their parents and siblings met on earth and our worlds collided with each other—forever united by love because #loveneverends and #momentsmatter. #AsaSunday
We’ll see you in heaven, boys!
(A video link to Truman’s story)
https://www.teamtruman.org/
