In Loving Memory of
Matthew E.
Warrington
January 8, 1970 -
August 20, 1998
Mathew Elijah Warrington was born January 8, 1970, in Everett
Washington. Matthew was the youngest child of ten kids. Matthew was an
especially loved son, brother and uncle. He was a free spirit who loved God,
nature, and adventures his family and especially his mother and his deceased
father he so often talked about. Matthew was a commercial fisherman he had
worked for Deep-Sea Fisheries out of Seattle Washington. This took him to
Alaska where Matthew always felt at home, next to God and nature. In his times,
their Matthew had found a true fascination with the bald eagle. In the times
that Matthew had spent there, he had taken numerous pictures of the eagle. Here
seen on your right is a picture of Matthew on the fishing docks in Alaska.
Later
on down Matthew's career path, he discovered yet another professional talent,
the art of painting. Matthew's dream was to become self-employed, which he
managed to do. Matthew found his niche in the timber industry doing what he
loved the most, doing service for others that brought a smile, to that special
someone. Such as the Christmas wreath, that covers your front door at Christmas
time...Or maybe that bouquet of flowers that your sweeties sent you with all
that beautiful greenery in it...Or how about that beautiful birds eye maple
clock that holds time on your wall.
As a young child Matthew loved to play with his sisters; we nicknamed him Penny
Annie, as kids must do. LOL We named him this because he had a few freckles
across the bridge of his nose. Until one day when Matthew was about seven or
eight, we found him in the bathroom with a piece of sandpaper trying to remove
them. So ultimately, we all had to lose the nicknames. Matthew as a young child
loved to fish. Liz, Zara, Shara and myself spent countless hours playing and
fishing our favorite creek near our home at Lake Wenatchee Washington. As we
became adults, that tradition never quit. When Matthew would come to visit, we
would still sneak off when we could and go fish.
Matthew had four older brothers. Chip's was Matthew's eldest brother. Chip's
didn't really know Matthew that well since there was such an age factor.
Matthew has three older brothers to whom he idolized: Greg, Jeff and Dawson. They as big brothers, spent countless
hours with him looking for Indian artifacts, fishing, hunting, etc… They never
lacked to counsel Matthew as he lacked for a father figure. One thing I do know
is that their little brother loved, needed, and appreciated them all for who
they are and wants them to be with him again someday. Thanks you guys and I
love you.
Matthew had four older sisters who truly loved him, and consistently tried to
mother him. However, Matthew had a special bond with one and that was his
sister Liz. I can unselfishly say it was beyond words. Those two spent hours
together when they where little, as Liz spoke at the funeral, tears running
down her face. Quote, "he was my playmate, when he was so little he had
to still nap, I would sneak in his room lay on top of his belly, stare at him
for awhile, then anxiously take her little fingers and pull his eyes lids back
awake him for the next play time."
As Liz and Matthew became adults, they kept that validation in their
relationship - always a smile with a depth we will never fully understand. What
a beautiful mirror they were for each other. I'm truly sorry and I love you Liz
Matthew has shown with great clarity his reality and nearness to God. Two days
before Matthew's death, Matthew assembled his cross of lights, which can be
viewed at railroad Avenue in Myrtle Point, Oregon so the world at large can see
what Matthew truly desired. Matthew obviously knew someone is for us, in us,
and works through us. If you really knew, Matthew's worth was not measured by
what he did, or what he incurred on this earth, but who he was. Matthew was
truly motivated by his convictions and steadfast to them. Through this precious
loss, our family has been greatly strengthened and has been given a deeper
understanding of life. What Matthew had he salvaged; What Matthew salvaged he
lost; What Matthew gave away he now has eternal life. You are forever loved and
missed, until that day.
Do
Not Stand At My Grave and Weep
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning hush.
I am the swift uplifting rush.
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there, I did not die.
FOOD FOR
THOUGHT...
A
Man's daughter had asked the local minister to come and pray with
her father. When the minister arrived, he found the man lying in bed with his
head propped up on two pillows. An empty chair sat beside his bed. The minister
assumed that the old fellow had been informed of his impending visit. "I
guess you were expecting me," he said. "No, who are you?"
said the father. "I'm the new minister at your church, he replied. I
figured you knew I was going to show up."
"Oh yeah, the chair," said the bedridden man. "Would
you mind closing the door?" Puzzled, the minister shut the door. "I
have never told anyone this, not even my daughter," said the man.
"But all of my life I have never known how to pray. At church I used to
hear the preacher talk about prayer, but it went right over my head. I
abandoned any attempt at prayer," the old man continued, "until one
day about four years ago my best friend said to me, "Joe, prayer is
just a simple matter of having a conversation with Jesus. Here is what I
suggest: Sit down in a chair; place an empty chair in front of you, and in
faith, see Jesus in the chair. It's not spooky because he promised He'd be with
you always. Then just speak to Him and listen in the same way you're doing with
me right now."
"So I tried it and I've liked it so much that I do it a couple
of hours every day. I'm careful though. If my daughter saw me talking to an
empty chair, she'd either have a nervous breakdown or send me to a funny
farm." The minister was deeply moved by the story and encouraged the old
guy to continue on the journey. Then he prayed with him and returned to the
church building. Two nights later, the daughter called to tell the minister
that her daddy had died that afternoon.
"Did he die in peace?" he asked. "Yes, when I left
the house about two o'clock, he called me over to his bedside, he told me he
loved me and kissed me on the cheek. Then I got back from the store an hour
later, I found him dead. However, there was something strange about his death.
Apparently, just before daddy died, he leaned over and rested his head on the
chair beside the bed. What do you make of that?" The minister wiped a tear
from his eye and said, "I wish we could all go that way."
Author Unknown
'Tis dark haired
princess, right by his side.
As she directed him to
a little town in the countryside.
It was only 30 miles
from their little home.
As we hit the exit
that turned to the right.
Had something to do
with the taking of Matthew's life.
It's somewhere around
here, but I couldn't detect it.
Twisted blind corners,
doubling back.
Of the ones who
commenced this act.
As we approached this
designated murder site,
With a white painted
halo, in the shape of his body frame.
As to devour the earth
with some consolation.
Then when we as a family
planted that a cross, for our, little brother.
And a note from mom
acknowledging her loss, all in reverence of the loved one we lost.
Blood stains all
around the soles of my feet.
Knowing God loves me
and through that, assurance I managed to maintain.
They call themselves
men as they watched themselves die.
She was in the cab of
the truck, when it laid him to rest here.
It did not end, until
Matthew died.
It's now being held in
his Savior's eyes.
That desires the good
for the bad and the right for the wrong.
Hoping only to touch
the hearts of others as they enter this site.
The Dash
At a funeral of a
friend,
He referred to the dates on his headstone
From the beginning...to the end.
He noted that first came the date of birth
And spoke of the following date with tears,
But he said, what mattered most of all
Was the "dash" between those
years.
For that "dash" represents all the
time
That he was alive on earth...
And now only those who loved him
Know what that little line is worth
For it matters not, how much we own:
The cars...the house...the cash.
What matters is how we live and love
And how we spend our "dash"
So think about this long and hard...
Are there things you would like to change?
For you never know how much time is left
And where we are within that
"dash".
If we could just slow down enough
To consider what's true and real,
And try always to understand
The way other people feel.
To be less quick to anger,
And show appreciation more
Mostly to love the people in our lives
Like we've never loved before.
If we treat each other with respect,
And wear a smile more often...
Remembering that this special
"dash"
Might only last a little while.
So when your eulogy's being read
And your life's actions rehashed...
Would you be proud of what is said
About how you spent your "dash"?
~Author unknown~
Can you think of the
vanished moments and say,
I spent them every one
for the Lord!
I started the day with
his precious word,
Then I lifted my heart
in prayer to him until,
heaven was real and
earth was dim.
And my Saviour was
personal and dear,
All day long I could
feel him near.
Dispelled my worries
and stilled my fears.
He showed me that only
those things would last,
Which I did for him as
time sped fast.
He taught me that
nothing was ever too hard,
If it was done in the
strength of the Lord.
And all through the
hours as the moments sped,
I, the body, and he
the head.
I lived so that all
could see,
The Holy Spirit
shining through me
As we sit and think at
the close of day?
Author:
Zandra Warrington age
13
(Matthew's sister)
Little Zandra passed
away August 8, 1968 Of Leukemia
This poem was found
in a bible box left for her father and mother
Honey,
Heaven Is Home
The day you left us was sorrow and sadness,
But honey, you've left your cares behind,
And heaven is what you'll adore,
With Jesus to love and guide you,
And angels to sing all day long,
How could I wish you back in this life,
When heaven is all and much more.
To sail beyond the blue skies,
I promise I'll be there together,
With loved ones beyond those blue skies,
We'll sing with the angels in glory,
We'll worship our Saviour on high,
There's so much to do up in heaven,
I'll see you where there's no more good
byes.
Author
(Mom) Bonita Warrington
suddenly snatched from her loving arms.
As an older sister, I am writing this little testimony of Matthew's life as I
recall it, out of respect, love and admiration for who he was, and how he as my
little brother inspired those around him.
Matthew's parents were missionaries in Mexico for approximately twenty years.
Giving of themselves unconditionally to the homeless, starving, the sick and
the afflicted ones, even if it meant going without ourselves. Within this time
span the Mexican government had given dad four lots of land to build a church
upon, in a little town called Indiviso. They built the church and later had to
leave the mission field due to dad's failing health.
In the years that followed, finally dad and mom bought their first home in
Yakima, Washington. We had no sooner settled in, than my oldest sister, Zandra,
was diagnosed with leukemia at the precious age of thirteen. Zandra was a
wonderful big sister to Shara, Zara, Liz, and myself. She had taken a lot of
the mothering roles of us four little girls, to free time to help mom with her
tremendous daily duties. Zandra at the time would spend hours with us, combing
and fixing our hair, story telling, reading our favorite bible stories. The one
thing that always stood out in my mind of her, were those freshly cut
snapdragon flowers she would use as finger puppets, as she read us stories.
Zandra always had time for that walk down our long driveway, to the little
corner store to buy that piece of candy until she had become too ill. I will
never forget the last time I saw Zandra; she softly kissed each of her little
sister's good-bye, for the last time, and quietly overnight slipped from our
lives. As to this day I can honestly say, I've been kissed bye an angel.
Through Zandra's illness as a child, I can remember finding our mother out in
the pasture behind the barn, just weeping knowing Zandra would be with us only
for a little while. I will never forget that helpless look in my mother's eyes,
the pain, of a mother's love.
Mother struggled for the next few years trying to deal with her great precious
loss. As a child, I had felt that void in my mother, until the day God granted
yet another precious gift, a beautiful baby boy, they named him Matthew Elijah
Warrington. I can still remember peeking over the edge of that bassinet for the
first time. Mother seemed content once again, contending with her motherly
duties. Through the years to come mother monitored Matthew exceptionally close,
the bond between them seemed kind of funny, both caregivers by nature, always
thinking one needed the other's help and companionship more. Matthew was very
protective about his mother. And no matter how old Matthew thought he was,
mother would always say, "you will always be my baby."
Matthew's father meant the world to him regardless of being enrolled by his
father in the old school, and being ruled by the iron hand. Matthew's father
had loaded up Matthew's little toolbox in the few short years he had with him.
He made Matthew learn to read from the bible; it was there that he learned of
God and all of his wonders. He had taught Matthew how to fish, hunt, climb a
mountain, split wood, cut fence post, and build that fence. He taught him how
to grow a beautiful garden, and the weeding process, how to milk a cow and to
basically live off the land. Matthew and his brothers all labored greatly for
their father's approval. Matthew's father was born in Portland, Oregon on
September 19, 1918 and he passed away October 18, 1981 of cancer leaving
Matthew absent of a father figure.
Matthew had lived off and on with his mother after his return fishing trips in
Alaska. Matthew tried to bandage his mother's loneliness and lack of
companionship. Matthew fulfilled this role; Matthew truly struggled with his
loss of a father even up to his own death. He used to share with mom quite
often that he needed a dad. Matthew spent most of his adult life in search of
the fullness of God, at times aimlessly wandering down one path or another,
reading his scriptures and trying to share with others what he found to be
essential. Matthew was never ashamed of his spirituality and his love he felt
for his Heavenly Father. A close friend of Matthew had said he was ridiculed
for his beliefs the night he had died.
Since the day Matthew died, so has that big part of our mother; she has
suffered significantly. On the day of the last attending court date, mom
suffered a series of three strokes. She is a wonderful lady that has once again
had the life ripped out her, by self-serving choices and of selfish individuals.
Mom I love you from the bottom of my heart and I share your grief, of the loss
of a child.
For through the construction of this web site I have found sorrow, I have found
love, I have found courage, I have found strength, I have found forgiveness, I
have found appreciation, I have found peace, I have found healing, I have found
one last thing I could do for my little brother, And I have felt love.
NOTE FROM THE EDITOR: If you would like to visit the website dedicated to Matthew Elijah Warrington, please go to http://www.matsplace.com. Matthew's sister, Sarah Peterson, came across our website and felt led to share with us her little brother's testimony. He was without warning overnight taken home to be with our Heavenly Father. Matthew was visiting a strange little town, while there, he was brutally beaten and run down by a truck. His case is still ongoing. Please pray for her family in these difficult times. While you're visiting their website, could you please sign their guest book? It brings so much comfort to their mother, for she lives far away from her daughter and in these times, kind words can hold her, till Sarah can get there to hold her again. God Bless You from Sarah Peterson, the Warrington Family, and Precious Testimonies.
Also,
if you are questioning in
your heart what this Christian life is all about and would
like to know more about being
reconciled to God, please click
here to learn how you can do that. Thank you and God bless
you!
