This Road is Hard, and Long

Psalm 13

How long wilt thou forget me, O Lord? for ever? 

how long wilt thou hide thy face from me?

 How long shall I take counsel in my soul, 

having sorrow in my heart daily? 

how long shall mine enemy be exalted over me?

 Consider and hear me, O Lord my God: lighten mine eyes,

 lest I sleep the sleep of death;

Lest mine enemy say, I have prevailed against him; 

and those that trouble me rejoice when I am moved.

 But I have trusted in thy mercy; 

my heart shall rejoice in thy salvation.

I will sing unto the Lord, because he hath dealt bountifully with me.

I listen to a song, "shall I take from your hand the blessing, yet not welcome anything; shall I love you in times of plenty then leave you in days of drought. . .Let your will be done in me; in your love I will abide, Oh I long for nothing else as long as you are glorified."

So quiet my restless my heart. . in you. . .

The days are growing shorter. The dark comes quickly.

Daylight hours are precious and few.

There is still much to do to ready for winter. 

Many things demand our time and pull us toward the urgent. 

Yet our hearts ache and our steps are slow. 

This new journey doesn't fit well.

We weren't meant for death. 

We were meant for life.

And so all within us groans and tries to fight off the pain. 

We seek God's face.

We plead with him for grace.

We plead with him for strength for this journey.

My farmer works on the fence that he and his boy worked on together.
The pain searing like a knife.
Unexpected.
Death, the enemy, has taken his son, his friend.
And in the evening, with hushed voices,
 we talk of this ache and the purpose God has in our lives.
And how we are going to live with this factured family and
without our Lijy.

I delve into a new book. Desparately trying to use the mind that feels so foggy.

I balance check books, and agonize over 50 cents to get it "right." Something that is concrete. 

It can't be wrong. Numbers are constant. 

And so I find the error. 

Success. 

It is these little areas that I feel some control. 

Shortly after Elijah went to be with Jesus, a friend gave me a cd.

Come Weary Saints by Sovereign Music.

It is healing balm to my soul. 

I listen as I write.

I listen as I cry out to Jesus to please take this cup from me. . .yet not my will but thine. 

And I am reminded. 

We need to thank him for the struggle, for the fire.

And for the strength He gives.

For everyday.
God is still God even in the darkest night. 

I can not do this journey on my own. 

I hide in my Father's arms.

Because I am weak. 

And I long for things to be different. 

So, I turn and give thanks. 

I Count my 1,000 Gifts:

• Blue eyes that haunt my memory
• dimples
• lopsided grins as he turned and said goodbye, that one last time
• Friends
• Hugs
• Needlepoint at the backdoor remembering my red head
• Notes and cards with memories written in love
• College visits and a friend that comes with me to hold my hand
• Steps away from the accident leading closer to our home going
• The deep love of Jesus
• Daughters that love each other 
• A son that is trying to find his way with out his older brother
• A God that fiercely loves us and won't let go
• Friends who bring dinner when I am a weeping mess
• A doctor who still makes house calls and listens to all our fears and worries
• A husband that works so hard to provide for our family and never complains. . .ever

Deutoronomy 31:6

Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, 

for the Lord your God goes with you; 

he will never leave you nor forsake you.”