Even When I Feel Alone. . . He Is There

They came to the farm.
We knew little of what was happening.
Never had any idea of the magnitude of the gift.
They were there to serve.
Quietly.
And today.
When there is still snow on the ground, when depression's clutches dig deep;
when the wind blows causing temperatures to plunge to freezing, we are reminded of the gift.
Reminded that the farmer does not have to go each day to forage for wood.
It is there. Piled high.

It is grace. All wrapped in a beautiful package.
When those pieces of love were cut and stacked, there was no diagnosis of cancer.
There was just deep heartache and loss.
The void of the 17 year old man boy; our red headed son.
We were reeling with grief. Stepping one foot in front of the other.
Holding on to hope. Clinging to what we know.
Being held by a community spurred to action by the magnitude of great loss.
The diagnosis of cancer would come later; after the the wood was cut.
After it was all stacked and piled high.
It would come when we least expected it.
When the majestic color splashed across the landscape dulled it's hue.
When the night's hours grew longer.
The diagnosis came.
And those pieces of love became the sustenance of life,
while the temperatures plummeted to record lows.
And cold remained for days on end.
While friends and brother in laws tossed the fuel into the burning embers, we were kept; warm.
As Spring approaches and no visible signs in this northern climate.
I hold those memories dear.
I rest in the being held.
My mom would send flowers when the snow lingered a bit longer.
She would remind me that Spring really will come.
Even though I can't see it. 
A work is being done.
Provision being made.
God knew our needs and He provided.
Even when I don't feel like He is there.
Even when I feel alone.
He is there. 
And I am grateful. 
Searching for the quiet. Unloading a bag a day.

I Am Holding on to you. . .