The story of Isaiah’s middle name…I was 14 years old when I showed up on their doorstep. Completely broken and unsure of how to mend. My parents had just separated and I found myself spending too many nights alone in that worn, nearly empty apartment. There was barely a box of cereal in the those old, brown, flat-front cabinets. The sound of speeding cars and bright blaze of gas station lights would fill my bedroom windows. I was scared. I was hurting. I felt abandoned and alone.
I somehow missed the chaos and brokenness of my childhood home, for at least it offered a grassy hill, quiet streets, and friendly neighbors. Sometimes it’s the good you see around you that helps you endure what’s happening within.
I rang the doorbell of that beautiful yellow brick house, and fell into Mrs. Harper’s arms. I told her about all the hurting and all the breaking my heart was feeling and she offered me a place of rest. Without hesitation she made a room for me, and spent two years nursing me back to health.
From the moment Mr. and Mrs. Harper met my parents, they adopted our little broken family and made it part of their own. As my Godparents, they cared for me physically, emotionally and above all, spiritually. There is not a soul I admire more than my fierce and faithful Godmother, and not a man I respect more than my wise Godfather.
For 14 years they shepherded my soul, for two years they sheltered it, and for the last 17 years I’ve felt their love and influence in every part of who I’ve become.
Without Mr. Harper, I wouldn’t have gone to the college I did or applied for that scholarship and gotten a full ride. He would often take me for ‘a drive’, just to talk, and teach me the importance of class and dignity, of education and work well done. He encouraged me to use a purse when my lip gloss and cash kept falling out of my teenage pockets, and he would never allow me to wear pajama pants in public. There was not a man in the world who could win him over, until Joel came along. When he agreed to let him propose, to help walk me down the aisle, and to give my hand away, I knew my husband would be a good one.
My Godmother, Mrs. Harper, is a pillar of strength. She is a warrior in both prayer and deed. Her unconditional devotion to the Lord through times of sorrow and success, in times of plenty and of need, taught me the importance of living and suffering well. She modeled what it means to be a Godly wife and mother and to serve your family well. Her hands bless all whose lives she touches with selfless generosity, compassion, and love. She lives to serve others above herself and has played a hand in not only saving my life, but the lives of so many others. I am who I am because she welcomed me in.
Before Joel and I knew we were pregnant, I had a dream I was holding a baby named Harper. It was one of those dreams that sticks with you as if it might mean something. Though we were not trying, a few weeks later we found out a baby was on the way. We knew right away it’s name would include, Harper.
The meaning of the name Harper is simple and yet for me, profound. Harper means harpist; and when I imagine Angels I often think of them with child-like wonder, strumming beautiful harps of gold. I wonder if that’s because the closest I’ve come to Angels here on earth, are my dear sweet Godparents, Mr. and Mrs Harper. ❤
Related posts- Daddy’s: https://lifespilledlikewater.com/2014/03/12/dear-dad/