We learned this week that our dear friend Scarlett Haynes has gone home to be with her Lord Jesus.

Christmas 2016

We would be grateful if you would pray for her husband, Ron, and their family. Ron and Scarlett have been dear friends of ours for many years, and their lives have had a profound influence on ours—especially on Larry’s journey of ministry.

I need to tell you a little story about Ron.

When Larry and I were newly married, long before we ever imagined that we would become missionaries, Larry attended a Men’s Quarterly Meeting for churches in our area. He didn’t usually look forward to these meetings. In fact, he remembered sitting through similar meetings as a child and finding them rather…dry.

But this time there was a different speaker.

Ron Haynes was a former Air Force meteorologist who had risen to a high rank, and even in his 70s he still carried himself like a military officer. He had a commanding presence, high-and-tight gray hair, and the kind of voice that made you pay attention.

He had come to invite the men to join the American Baptist Men’s Disaster Relief Team—what they called themselves, quite wonderfully, “Christians with Their Sleeves Rolled Up.”

The team was ready to go whenever disaster struck, especially in our part of southern Illinois, where tornadoes, floods, and ice storms can leave an incredible amount of destruction behind.

Ron held up one of their bright orange Disaster Relief T-shirts.

“Give me $10,” he told the men, “and I’ll give you this T-shirt—and change your life.”

Then he began telling stories.

The team had a trailer stocked with chainsaws and equipment, ready to head out at a moment’s notice. And Ron kept repeating a phrase:

“It’s all about the trees.”

Trees are, after all, responsible for a tremendous amount of the mess after a tornado or ice storm.

But as Larry listened, he realized that it wasn’t really about the trees at all.

It was about the people.

Ron talked about families who had lost homes, possessions, photographs, and things that could never be replaced. He told stories of helping people search through the wreckage for family pictures and precious personal belongings. And as he spoke, tears rolled down this stern, military man’s face.

The people they served were hurting physically and emotionally. And when the Disaster Relief volunteers showed up—not simply with chainsaws, but with compassion, presence, and the love of Jesus—their gratitude was overwhelming.

Larry says he couldn’t get to the front of the room fast enough to sign up.

He knew in his spirit: This was something he wanted to be part of.

And it changed his life.

That very practical way of serving people in Jesus’ name became something Larry fell deeply in love with. I believe those seeds eventually grew into the ministry God has given him today in Serbia and throughout the Balkans.

But there was another person standing behind Ron through all those years: his wife, Scarlett.

Ron and Scarlett had one of those marriages that you could see rather than simply hear about.

Scarlett had been battling cancer for essentially the entire time we had known them. We remember meeting them in Texas in 2013 while we were there meeting with potential ministry partners, when they had traveled there for Scarlett’s treatment for an especially aggressive melanoma.

And through all those years, they kept walking together.

We tried to stay in touch, and whenever we were back in Illinois during the summers, we visited. We had the privilege of seeing them again just last month.

By then, Scarlett had been living in a nursing home for several years. Ron would leave the comfort of their beautiful old Sears home—the home filled with treasures from the antique shops Scarlett had operated over the years—and go sit with her at the nursing home every single day.

Even as Ron himself became increasingly frail and developed Parkinson’s, his commitment to Scarlett never seemed to feel like an obligation.

It was love.

It was joy.

When we visited in August, Ron couldn’t drive himself anymore, so his son had been bringing him to see Scarlett each day. When we arrived at his house, Ron asked us, “How big is your car?”

He needed to take his walker with him.

“Big enough,” Larry told him.

So we carefully helped this very fragile man down the stairs, loaded his walker into the car, and drove him to the nursing home.

Once we arrived, Ron navigated the labyrinth of hallways with his walker. Of course, Ron seemed to know everyone. He stopped to greet staff members and patients sitting in the hallways along the way.

And then we reached Scarlett’s room.

She was sitting in her wheelchair, looking remarkably chipper, waiting for us.

As Larry was trying to maneuver Ron’s walker into the room, Ron wobbled past him and said,

“Excuse me. I’ve gotta get my kiss!”

That moment says so much about Ron and Scarlett.

After all those years. After cancer. After Parkinson’s. After hospital rooms and nursing homes and all the losses that come with growing older.

He still just wanted to get his kiss.

His love for Scarlett wasn’t simply duty.

It was joy.

We spent some time together that day talking about our families and our lives. And when it was time to leave, we took this picture.

We are so grateful that we got to see them together one more time.

Ron texted me after Scarlett passed and said that she is now with her Lord Jesus.

And so, although our hearts ache for Ron and for everyone who loved Scarlett, we grieve with hope.

We believe that death is not the end.

Scarlett has finished her long journey. She is home with Jesus.

And someday, because of Jesus, we will see her again.

Please pray for Ron in these days. Pray for their children and grandchildren and all those who loved Scarlett. Pray especially for Ron as he learns how to live in this world without the woman who has been his faithful partner and soul mate for so many years.

And perhaps remember something else with us:

Sometimes ministry looks like a chainsaw and an orange T-shirt.

Sometimes it looks like finding someone’s photographs in the rubble after a tornado.

Sometimes it looks like showing up every day at a nursing home.

And sometimes it looks like a frail old man wobbling down a hallway because he just has to get his kiss.

It’s all about the trees.

Except it was never really about the trees.

It was always about the people.

And ultimately, it was always about love.

Thank you, Ron and Scarlett, for showing us what that kind of love looks like.