Do the next thing.
That is what everyone says to do.
But right now I don't know what that next thing is.
People ask what we need.
I don't know what that need is.
My mind swirls with family memories.
Memories of the last hours of being with Elijah.
Wishing he hadn't gone out.
Wishing God had intervened. . .and turned the wheel back on the road.
My heart and soul hurt. My eyes blink tears constantly.
I went for a walk yesterday.
I went to the barn.
I wanted to be with Gary.
We fell in love at the barn.
Hours of talking and being together.
(he likes that)
And it felt good to be there.
The sounds and smells, familiar friends.
The pulsating of the milking machines, soothing.
The beat of steadiness.
The life of farming.
Unpredictable in ways. . .yet in so many others, routine bound.
Doing the next thing.
It's how this nation was forged. Men and woman doing the next thing.
I walked back to the house.
The weather changed.
It rained a little, but the sun was out.
And this was the gift.
I have never seen a rainbow outlining the mountain.
I can not tell you I like this journey we are all on.
With ever fiber of my being I want to change a detail; to make Elijah safe in his bed. I want to hear his laugh. Be wrapped in his ginormous bear hugs. I want to hear the squeals from Ella as he wrestles her to the ground.
But I can keep my eyes focused on Christ.
I can keep proclaiming HIS name.
The news presented a lovely segment last night on Elijah.
Yet they cut out every piece of our testimony of the Living God.
It made me sad.
That will not deter me from sharing our walk as a family as we grieve with Hope in Christ.
The beat of his drums may have faded.
But the love of God is richer and more powerful than ever before.
One of Elijah's classmates wrote this. And I share it with you. She is a gem and a treasure. And I am honored to know her.
Make music to the LORD with the harp, with the harp and the sound of singing,