18. To the Last

Dwayne, Esther, Byron, and Vivian at the Bristol's 70th wedding anniversary party

Byron and Esther set out for Arkansas to follow God's calling and seek His will. They wanted community and togetherness in this little, out-of-the-way part of the world. God has greatly blessed their endeavors, and today there are dozens of people who are part of a tightly knit group for whom Harbor House is a home away from home. The beautiful old house is far more than simply a Christian Bed and Breakfast, it is a center of grace and hospitality that has blessed untold numbers of people.
 

The Bristols in 2007

The once-tiny fellowship at Harbor House has grown rapidly in the last few years and now includes people from many walks of life, brought together in a community of support and encouragement. This is where people have been led to the Lord, and where others come to be encouraged and reaffirmed in their walk with God. Many are drawn by the atmosphere of love and family that pervades the place.
     
The present goal of Harbor House is to be God's hands in the community, reaching out with His love. Dwayne and Vivian perpetuate the Bristols' vision of an agricultural community as they prepare the land for whatever the future holds. Trusting in God's promises and waiting to see what He does, they are faithfully following His lead.

Revised Ending: At the time I wrote the book both of the Bristols were alive. Now that they are gone, I have rewritten the ending of this manuscript.

The years eventually caught up to the once-active Bristols, and at the ages of 95 and 92 they moved to a small apartment adjoining Harbor House. Byron designed the building himself, revamping an old shed into a beautiful, snug little home. One windy afternoon we sat at the dining room table with my photos and loose sheets of scribbled paper scattered around, and Byron told me what he would like to have written at the end of this book. He told me that the Lord was preparing him for death. God had been very close to him lately, and together they were working on tying up loose ends. At that time Byron could only pray that he would hold on as long as Esther needed him. In their hearts the Bristols were still a young couple very much in love. When they looked into each other’s eyes you could see a man and wife completely devoted to each other. That passionate declaration of undying love made in 1937 is still ringing in the ears of all who knew them.

After struggling with a weakening body and mind for several years, Esther went home to be with the Lord on June 1, 2009. It was a blessed relief for her tired spirit, but she left many grieving behind her—her soul-mate most of all. For God’s own purposes, Byron stayed behind on earth, cared for by Dwayne and Vivian’s friendship and unceasing efforts.  His last three years were a growing time, a time to learn contentment and the power of prayer and forgiveness. So many elderly people get set in their ways at this time of life; they grow sedentary and listless. Mr. Byron longed to be as active as ever, despite his walker, and his mind was always actively planning, coordinating, creating—he remained an artist. He was still growing in Christ on the day of his death; he still had goals he wanted to accomplish.

I saw him on his last day on this earth, and I thank God that I didn't put off that visit until it was too late. Just the week before we had had one of our well-loved talks, and except for a few lapses in memory and mental mix-ups he was very sharp. Our conversation was spurred by cards from the Un-Game, and it brought us laughter and soul-baring conversation. We talked about the first scripture that came to his mind, "Great is the Lord, and greatly to be praised in the city of our God, in the mountain of his holiness" (Psalm 48:1); it was a verse that spoke to him of the greatness of our God and how worthy He is of our praise and admiration.

Then a few days later Mr. Byron took a sudden turn for the worst. The Barbers had to help him perform the most basic tasks, and he showed all the signs of death's approach. But at age ninety-eight, after so many scares and close calls, we half-suspected that he'd just bounce back like he had every time before.

He was more unresponsive than I'd ever seen him, and it was strange to see him lying in bed when he only ever sat in his easy chair, but he knew me and said my name with a smile. I brought him a vase full of daffodil blossoms, fresh from the wet spring sunshine outside his dark room. I held his hand, told him I couldn't stay long, mentioned that there were a few stories I would ask him more about on my next visit. Then I did what I hardly ever do, gave him a long hug and prayed (very loud so that he could hear me), prayed for peace and grace to envelop him on every side, and God's presence to be with him always. Then I just sat there holding his hand, trying not to cry. He reached up and touched my face, looking at me with eyes that loved so undeserving. I told him I had to go, he said, "Where?" and I explained that I had "stuff" to do. He was almost asleep and couldn't say much. After a garbled sentence that was something like "The first planting needs to be checked," I smiled and said my good-byes.

Mr. Byron liked to say "shalom", the Hebrew word meaning peace, as a farewell. I rarely—if ever—said that to him. But this time I said it, "Shalom." He looked up and said, "Shalom," and I said it again, "Shalom." Those were the last words we exchanged.

He died on March 1, 2012 after a day filled with friends, family, hymns, prayers, and loving care. He wanted to be with the Lord so badly for so long, and finally his petitions were answered. He has found true shalom.