Until Yeshua Calls Me Home By Joseph E. Savard

A reflection on the lessons one life leaves behind, the faith that sustains us through loss, and the love that time cannot diminish. 

Yesterday was Ashley's birthday.

July 14.

My own birthday is October 14.

For years, I have quietly reflected on the fourteenth day we share. Whether by providence or simply through the way Scripture has shaped my heart, those dates have continually drawn my thoughts toward God's completeness, His covenant faithfulness, and the redemption fulfilled in Yeshua.

Yesterday, however, I could not bring myself to write a single word.

Not because I had forgotten.

Because I remembered too well.

Seven years ago, I last wrote publicly about Ashley, about the grief our family carried, the ways we were changing, and what her life continues to teach us.

As I quietly revisited those words, a thought I had carried for years unfolded with greater clarity. I had always sensed that the birthdays Ashley and I shared were more than dates on a calendar. Yet I felt Yeshua gently draw my attention away from the numbers and toward what they had always represented: a love that neither time nor death has diminished.

Perhaps the meaning was never in the numbers.

Perhaps it was always in the love.

Yesterday, my heart remained silent.

Today, I believe Yeshua gently moved me to speak.

Ashley,

There has not been a day when your life has not entered my thoughts.

Time has not diminished your presence. It has only refined it.

Grief has slowly surrendered its sharpness to gratitude, and longing has become one of the quiet languages through which love continues to speak.

You live within memories that no passing year can erode.

In Eden's eyes, I still catch glimpses of your wonder. In Layla's smile, I still hear your laughter. In your mother's gaze, I still recognize your gentle spirit.

Through each of them, I remember your humor, your compassion, your strength, your grace, your beauty, and the singular soul God entrusted to this world for a season.

For years, I believed I simply missed you.

Now I understand something more.

I miss your presence, but I have never lost your influence.

You continue to shape me.

Every conversation we shared still teaches me. Every disagreement still causes me to think. Every laugh still softens my heart.

I once wondered whether your life happened to us or was given to us. Perhaps neither question can be fully answered while we still walk this earth. Perhaps every soul we are blessed to love arrives carrying lessons we are not yet prepared to understand.

You became one of mine.

Your life continues to teach me gentleness, patience, gratitude, and the quiet truth that love should never wait for tomorrow.

I continue to seek Yeshua with all that I am, to know Him more deeply, to love others more completely, and to live more faithfully according to His teachings.

If your life has left me with one enduring lesson, it is this:

Love while you have the opportunity.

Forgive before pride finds its footing.

Never assume tomorrow belongs to us.

My greatest hope has never been to understand why.

My greatest hope has always been to live in a way that honors what your life taught me.

Yeshua.

Candace.

Ashley.

The three of you dwell within my thoughts every single day.

One is my Savior. One is the love of my life. One is the daughter whose life forever changed my own.

Each has transformed my soul in ways words can scarcely describe.

Until the day I leave this flesh, that will not change.

If I leave behind anything of lasting value, I pray it is because I listened well to the lessons God placed before me through each of you. 

If I leave behind anything of lasting value, I pray it is because I listened well to the lessons God placed before me through each of you.

Seven years have passed.

Love has not.

It was my honor to know you, to learn from you, and to love you.

Ashley Nicole, I love you still.

I always will.

Until Yeshua calls me home.