Sunday, December 28, 2014

For 17 Months Our Hearts Have Been Held By; God, A Community and Family, We Are So Grateful

A silent, still night. 

The ache  remains. 
Even after 17 months. 
2 birthday's.
2 Christmases. 

And much in between. 
A loneliness along with the  ache. 
I have lost my  child. 
Our  family so changed. 
And sometimes I feel lonely.
I feel like I was part way through a really great book,
 one I have loved  to read. 
And now the rest of the book is gone. 
Never to be finished. 
Year One, you are numb when you decorate the Christmas Tree. 
The Ornaments, they leave you gasping for air. 

Year after year a legacy. 
An ornament for each child, each year; dated. 
Her handwriting a reminder. 
My mom giving memories each year in an ornament.
 A gift, I have come all too suddenly to understand. 
So beautiful.
Each first, resounds with hollow echoes of what life was like and now so different.
The ache, deep,  steps defaulting to the well worn path etched in our being.
A numbness permeates all  you do.
A daily bowing in humbleness before the father for grace enough to make it through the day.
An endless sea of warm hearts making dinners, meeting  basic needs.

Philippians 4:19
And my God will meet all your needs according to the riches of his glory in Christ Jesus.

Somewhere, somehow you touch earth, delicately at first.
Testing to see if you can stand.
Looking at all around you as if for the first time.
Because what once was will never be again.

Your dear child lies in the cold, dark of the earth.
The child you carried and hoped for, now, gone.

And no matter how much you know you will see him again,
no matter how deep the faith and trust in the One true God,
the reality remains that this side of eternity that boy will never be.

There will be no graduation from the Marine Corps and watching as his career grows.
There will never be a wedding and I will never have the honor of dancing the mothers dance with my red headed boy.
There will be no mini hims carrying on the Davis name and silly antics.
The list will go on until you lose who you are and long for the guttural screams. 
It is not until the act of turning takes place that the journey can continue.
The act of the sacrifice of praise.

The 17 years we did have.
The treasured memory of an event spent together.
It is these moments that God reaches in and fills the shattered heart with the Holy Spirit.
It is a supernatural occurrence.
There is peace and a contentment in who this God of the Universe really is.
Because Year two the veil and fog that pulled you through year one has dissipated and you are left with raw, exposed emotions.
You take each one of those ornaments with the date and the year and you hold them to your heart. Longing to reach through the years and have time. 
And here your mind dwells on all the memories.

These seconds are hard. 
The fog has lifted and the raw grief is there. 
The walk continues through. 
There is no way around. 
Some days the heaviness weighs. 
I try so hard to rise above. 
I ask God for wisdom and strength.
Because it's too heavy to carry alone. 

Matthew 28:20
 And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age."
17 months ago. I was wakened in the night. 
17 months ago this morning I stepped onto my porch. 
This is what I saw. 

I had called our friends to come over. 
My heart had ceased beating for a time. 
My mind unsteady and unclear. 
When I look at this picture, I am reminded of the peace
 that descended to my soul that morning. 
The beauty of creation; a universal language. 
The praise uninhibited. 
Even in raw grief. 
The God of Universe, who called all things into being placed a heart in the sky. 
A broken heart. 
I don't read much into things. 
I don't pretend to say that makes it better. 
Because I'd take my son back in a heart beat in exchange for the image in the sky. 
(Though my farmer wouldn't)
But it's all connected. 
The ache. 
The heart
 The death. 
It's part of God's plan. 
Funny thing is, often we don't know what God's plan will be. 
We see glimpses and pieces. 
Snippets out of order. 
Rarely do we get to see the whole picture.
But He knows. 
He knows what He is doing. 
It is in trusting, where the grace and mercy touch down. 

And 17 months ago when Gary walked into church to share that Elijah met Jesus early that morning, God knew what He was doing. 
Grace walked through those church doors. 
And no matter how I hurt. 
No matter how much I miss that red headed boy of mine.

No matter how difficult every activity is. 
God is still there. 
The milk prices will drastically drop, My farmer and daughter will go on a missions trip. 
Cancer will loom. 
The world will still spin. 
And God will still be glorified on His throne. 
I had him for 17 years. 
He's been gone for 17 months. 
17 months feels so long. 
But it doesn't compare with all of eternity. 
Our gaze is to be to the cross. 
The symbol of suffering and shame; glorified to hope and salvation. 
We walk in uneasy times. 
Hope must be our quest. 
There is coming a day. 
And oh, how my spirit longs. 

Faith Hill
There Will Come A Day

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