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.
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."
In Tranquil Celestial Mists On High
Matthew embraced his
heart's burning pride,
'Tis dark haired princess, right by his side.
We can only assume
what Matthew felt that night,
As she directed him to a little town in the countryside.
Never had Matthew
spoken of this place before ,
It was only 30 miles from their little home.
I felt as if, I was a
passenger on his solo flight,
As we hit the exit that turned to the right.
Everything I passed on
the road that breathed with life
Had something to do with the taking of Matthew's life.
The confusion of
everything being connected,
It's somewhere around here, but I couldn't detect it.
For the road I felt
knew me, that day,
Twisted blind corners, doubling back.
Same as the double
Of the ones who commenced this act.
Nothing could be in
comparison of the grief I felt inside,
As we approached this designated murder site,
Laid a darken pool of
blood, in my brothers name,
With a white painted halo, in the shape of his body frame.
We drew our picks
As to devour the earth with some consolation.
I never dug a little
Then when we as a family planted that a cross, for our, little brother.
At the foot of this
white cross, we place angels, teddy bears and other trinkets,
And a note from mom acknowledging her loss, all in reverence of the loved one we lost.
I tried to imagine, by
standing in his place,
Blood stains all around the soles of my feet.
I stood there shaking
with fear and incompacidity for pain,
Knowing God loves me and through that, assurance I managed to maintain.
Who are these severed
souls, who heard Matthew's cry for help in the wilderness that night?
They call themselves men as they watched themselves die.
How can this be, they don't call cops here,The laws of the land are supposed to be governed by fear.
For who really is this
princess Matthew dear,
She was in the cab of the truck, when it laid him to rest here.
The power of good and
evil must of have been a site that night,
It did not end, until Matthew died.
For the pain and
betrayal Matthew must of felt that night,
It's now being held in his Savior's eyes.
And never again on a
clear August night will they challenge Matthew's infinite spirit,
That desires the good for the bad and the right for the wrong.
For he rests in
tranquil celestial mist on high,
Hoping only to touch the hearts of others as they enter this site.
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"?
What Have You Done For The Lord Today?
What Have You Done For
The Lord Today?
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.
He guarded my tongue, my feet, my ears,
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
Oh, Friends, is this what our hearts can say,
As we sit and think at the close of day?
Zandra Warrington age
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
It's all you ever long for and more,
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.
We'll meet again some sweet day,
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.
(Mom) Bonita Warrington
Mom had written this heartfelt poem after Matthew was, without warning,
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.
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