Before they left the site, Papa picked up the rock with the red arc on it and laid it over the entrance. Mack noticed but didn’t pay much attention, busy as he was with his own thoughts and tenderly holding the body of his daughter close to his heart.
17 CHOICES OF THE HEART
Earth has no sorrow that Heaven cannot heal.
– Author Unknown
Even though Mack carried the burden of Missy’s body back to the cabin, the time passed quickly. When they arrived at the shack, Jesus and Sarayu were waiting by the back door. Jesus gently relieved him of his burden and together they went to the shop where he had been working. Mack had not entered here since his arrival and was surprised at its simplicity. Light, streaming through large windows, caught and reflected wood dust still hanging in the air. The walls and work benches, covered with all manner of tools, were organized to easily facilitate the shop’s activities. This was clearly the sanctuary of a master craftsman.
Directly before them stood his work, a masterpiece of art in which to lay the remains of Missy. As Mack walked around the box he immediately recognized the etchings in the wood. On closer examination he discovered that details of Missy’s life were carved into the wood. He found an engraving of Missy with her cat, Judas. There was another of Mack sitting in a chair reading Dr. Seuss to her. All the family was visible in scenes worked into the sides and top: Nan and Missy making cookies, the trip to Wallowa Lake with the tram ascending the mountain, and even Missy coloring at the camp table along with an accurate representation of the lady-bug pin the killer had left behind. There was even an accurate rendering of Missy standing and smiling as she looked into the waterfall, knowing her daddy was on the other side. Interspersed throughout were flowers and animals that were Missy’s favorites.
Mack turned and hugged Jesus, and as they embraced, Jesus whispered into his ear, “Missy helped; she picked out what she wanted on it.”
Mack’s grip tightened. He couldn’t let go for a long while.
“We have the perfect place prepared for her body,” Sarayu said, sweeping past. “Mackenzie, it is in our garden.”
With great care they gently placed the remains of Missy into the box, laying her on a bed of soft grasses and moss, and then filled it full with the flowers and spices from Sarayu’s pack. Closing the lid, Jesus and Mack each easily picked up an end and carried it out, following Sarayu into the garden to the place in the orchard that Mack had helped clear. There, between cherry and peach trees, surrounded by orchids and day lilies, a hole had been dug right where Mack had uprooted the flowering shrub the day before. Papa was waiting for them. Once the crafted box was gently placed into the ground, Papa gave Mack a huge hug, which he returned in kind.
Sarayu stepped forward. “I,” she said with a flourish and bow, “am honored to sing Missy’s song, which she wrote just for this occasion.”
And she began to sing, with a voice like an autumn wind; a sound of turning leaves and forests slowly slumbering, the tones of oncoming night and a promise of new days dawning. It was the haunting tune that he had heard her and Papa humming before, and Mack now listened to his daughter’s words:
As she finished, there was silence; and then God, all three, simultaneously said, “Amen.” Mack echoed the amen, picked up one of the shovels, and, with help from Jesus, began filling in the hole, covering the box in which Missy’s body rested.
When the task was complete, Sarayu reached within her clothing and withdrew her small, fragile bottle. From it she poured out a few drops of the precious collection into her hand and began to carefully scatter Mack’s tears onto the rich black soil under which Missy’s body slept. The droplets fell like diamonds and rubies, and wherever they landed flowers instantly burst upward and bloomed in the brilliant sun. Sarayu then paused for a moment, looking intently at one pearl resting in her hand, a special tear, and then dropped it into the center of the plot. Immediately a small tree broke through the earth and began unbending itself from the spot, young and luxurious and stunning, growing and maturing until it burst into blossom and bloom. Sarayu then, in her whispery breeze-blown way, turned and smiled at Mack, who had been watching transfixed. “It is a tree of life, Mack, growing in the garden of your heart.”
Papa came up next to him and put his arm over his shoulder. “Missy is incredible; you know that. Truly, she loves you.”
“I miss her terribly… it still hurts so much.”
“I know, Mackenzie. I know.”
It was a little after noon, by the path of the sun, when the four left the garden and reentered the cabin. There was nothing prepared in the kitchen, nor was there any food on the dining table. Instead, Papa led them all into the living room; where on the coffee table sat a glass of wine and a loaf of freshly baked bread. They sat down, except Papa who remained standing. He directed his words to Mack.
“Mackenzie,” he began, “we have something for you to consider. While you have been with us, you have been healed much and have learned much.”
“I think that’s an understatement,” Mack chuckled.
Papa smiled. “We are especially fond of you, you know. But here is the choice for you to make. You can remain with us and continue to grow and learn, or you can return to your other home, to Nan and to your children and friends. Either way, we promise to always be with you; although this way is a little more overt and obvious.”
Mack sat back and thought about it. “What about Missy?” he asked.
“Well, if you choose to stay,” Papa continued, “you will see her this afternoon. She will come too. But if you choose to leave this place, then you will be also choosing to leave Missy behind.”
“This is not an easy choice,” Mack sighed. There was silence in the room for several minutes as Papa allowed Mack the space to struggle with his own thoughts and desires. Finally, Mack asked, “What would Missy want?”
“Although she would love to be with you today, she lives where there is no impatience. She does not mind waiting.”
“I’d love to be with her.” He smiled at the thought. “But this would be so hard on Nan and my other children. Let me ask you something. Is what I do back home important? Does it matter? I really don’t do much other than working and caring for my family and friends… “