How The Doors To This Farm House Were Flung Open Wide And Grace Walked In

The doors to this farmhouse were flung open wide yesterday.

 I hadn't done any planning or baking, or even sent invitations.
I had gone to the grave.

My Aunt had purchased wreaths from the girls.
The shipping to Florida was more than the wreath.
So she wanted  me give them to someone that might be in need of cheering up this Season.
I had decided early on to put one of the wreaths at Elijah's grave.
 I leaned into the pain.
I breathed in deep the fresh air and wrote in the snow;
 Miss You.
Because with every fiber of my being, I do. 
I head back home. 

I found myself alone; for awhile.

I sit in front of the fire, working on my Christmas Cards. 

Christmas Cards, that if I think about too much, will leave me undone. 

As I make my way through the list my mind wanders. (bet you can't imagine that)

And I pray for the families. I think of how each one has touched our life in some way. Some families I haven't seen in years. Some we see regularly. 

Yet my whole world has changed.

Last year when I wrote cards, I was mourning the loss of mom.
She had just recently finished her work here on this earth.
And now. . .But I didn't have time for that thought,
because Gary's cousin walked through the door.
She is love personified.
She brightens a room when she walks in.
She invariably has me laughing and crying at the same time. And I love her. 

Before she leaves, another who has a son buried deep beneath the sod; who walks each day choosing to put one foot in front of the other comes through the farmhouse doors.
He has repaired a projector that shines holiday pictures on the house.
It is a projector that Elijah loved. And it was broken. And Gary was happy.
Well, John has fixed this little tacky item that brings great joy and the little girls are in heaven.
But before he leaves or finishes the project; in walk 3 of my Sister in Laws.
And I marvel at the grace in this old house.
They come bearing gifts.
I have none to give.
Really I have nothing to give.

I open the gift.

Words escape me. It is so like him. I finger the sketch. My boy, my son, My Lijy.
I miss him; so much.
The tears flow.
But they aren't the tears of searing loss.
They are not the tears of, "why, oh God why?" They are the tears of grace.
Of recognizing how incredibly blessed we are.
 How in this journey we are walking, we will rarely walk it alone.
We will be held. We will carried through.

The sisters weren't through.
There was another gift. 

A needlepoint.

One Pam had; waiting for just the right person to give to. 

So like her mother. 

They all are.

And right there in that farmhouse, I felt the presence of the Holy Spirit.

 I felt the warm embrace. 

And I know without a doubt; that we will remain strong. 

That darkness may threaten to overwhelm. 

But it won't win. 

That, as hard as this journey is, we won't travel it alone. 

God will continue to watch over us. 

He will continue His work here, until He comes again. 

So, this holiday season, throw open those doors.

 Let the gift of grace enter your doors.

Let the Power of the Holy Spirit wash over you. 

Let him take your grief and pain. 

Let him hold it for you. 

2 Corinthians 4:8-19

We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; 

perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; 

struck down, but not destroyed.