Friday, March 28, 2014

A Beautiful Place To Be

It washes over me like a wave. 
He's gone.
I have to take the older kids to the doctor for their sports physicals. 
We're in the car. 
A familiar song comes on. 
They turn up the volume. 
We rock to the music and sing. 
My heart constricts. 
He loved this song. 
He loved music.
We listened to so much music.
He made music.


And now;
He's gone.

My flesh and blood. 
The magnitude of the loss is crushing
How can we do this?
How does the scheme of the family go?
Who is first born? 
No one seems to know. 
My only boy now, says, I don't even know who I am. 
And it's true. 
Who are we in this family?
All our roles have all changed.
Death, cancer, depression; 
My constant companion. 
A friend mentions how can she do things when she feels broken?
I think. . . we are all broken. 
Whether it looks that way on the outside or not. 
We are all broken. 
Whether you want to admit it or not. 
We are all broken.
Yet we are redeemed.
Through Christ. We have hope.
Hebrews 6:19
We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, 
firm and secure. It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain,
The promise of eternity.
I don't know how to walk this road. 
Most days I don't even want to. 
What leads me on is the mystery of how God will work all this out. 
His word is Truth. 

In Romans 8:28 
He says, " And we know that in all things 
God works for the good of those who love him, 
who have been called according to his purpose."

In Jeremiah 29:11

These things I know
I also know that He is good because of who He is; not because of what He does. 
So with all these truths,
I need to be ready to see where God will lead.
He's going to take this brokenness and he's going to do something.
He will take the pieces of my shattered heart and he will place
 them back together according to his will. 
My role may have changed.
Who I am has been forever altered this side of heaven.
 But who I am in Christ has remained unchanged.
I am a new creation.
I have been redeemed.
And that is a beautiful place to be.

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