Monday, August 12, 2013


I wander through the house. There is much to do. 
I wipe down a counter, switch laundry. It all seems so trivial. . .

My cousin said she wanted to be able to go back and just read about what I was having for breakfast. Oh, how I echo her words!  I have hardly cooked in 2 weeks. I have hardly eaten in 2 weeks. Yet the abundance of food in this place has been tremendous. 

 I wander. 

Everywhere I turn there are reminders of Elijah. With every step on the sod of this farm, he is there. There are fence lines he set. Calves he has fed. Earth he has turned and planted. . .into now which he has returned. 

My mind wanders and plays the night of the accident over and over.
 I see every minute of his last day on this earth in my head.
 I desperately want to change one little detail. 

I cry out to God. 
He whispers in the quiet that He is here. 
That He will make a way.
 I can not see that way. 
It is too dark for me to see. 
But I know He is there.
Even when the darkness threatens to overcome.
He is there. 
 It is a lifetime of trust.
 It is years of daily surrender to the King of Kings that creates 
the way for me to cling and to know that my Redeemer lives. 
And I wander into the safety of the loving God that created
each one of us for a purpose and a reason. 


  1. I can't make myself listen to the NCM video. About a year before Diane died, a young African American adopted woman sang that song at the Lamoille Valley Nazarene Church. I absolutely dissolved in tears, a total puddle, wondering, what is going on here, I don't cry in church and why now over this song? Little did I know....the same young woman, Jess Manchester, would sing it at Diane's funeral. Can't remember if you were there, but if you were, you probably remember it. Powerful. And you are right to recognize and declare that central truth Tammy - Our [yours, mine, Elijah's, Diane's] Redeemer [vehicle of release from the slavery and judgement of sin] Lives [to love and intercede for and someday reunite us]. I feel so bad for those who have no similar hope, a counterbalance on the scales of grief weighed down on the other side with anger, confusion, cognitive loss, unwanted family adjustments, and the seemingly unending ache.

    1. I remember well. Her voice was like that of an angel.

  2. I wandered for weeks through the fog of "It CAN'T BE, it's GOT to be a BAD dream!" and "It's not supposed to BE like this!".... eventually the fog clears, the wandering becomes more purposeful and life goes on. It doesn't "return to normal", but a new "normal" finds it's way.
    It's good that you blog these days, I wish I had, it's healthy for you, will be helpful to others one day, and is healing for some of us who have already walked the path you're remember those days when we thought we'd be numb forever...and while we're thankful for a kindred spirit, we're sorry - SO sorry - for the circumstances that unite our spirits...and tears flow...for you and your family, for Elijah, for Diane, Theresa, Luke...and those we don't even know; and their families, who have lost a piece of their (our) hearts until we're reunited in Eternity....and we whisper your names to Heaven {{HUG}}