Saturday, October 31, 2015

An Act of Obedience

It's been a while 
I wake to the heavy, raw feeling. 
My constant companion for so long. 
The weight pressing in. 
I haven't slept well. 
A needy dog. 
I feel tired. 
These days. 
Are the hardest. 
The pushing through. 
Yet the strength it takes. 
The work. 
I close my eyes. 
I trust. 
I cry out to the LORD. 
It is only by his grace. 
It is by his power, that we move. 
His journey to the cross. 

My journey to glory. 
I will myself to begin the day. 
I lay all of my thoughts and emotions at the feet of Jesus. 

2 Corinthians 10:5
We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.

This is an act of obedience. 
A battle of the wills. 
The missing is great these days. 
The Halloween's past. 
Walking past his room. . . day after day. 
Hopes and dreams dashed. 

So much is changing. 
It's so easy to sit and despair. 
But I will not succumb. 
I head to the Ancient Word. 
I sit in the stillness of the morning. 
This day belongs to the Creator of the Universe. 
I long to be his hands and feet. 
I rest in the quiet;
listening for His voice. 
I don't want to do the work of this world on my own. 
I want to know and be known. 
It is only in his quiet presence that the stillness of my heart can be heard. 
Left to it's own, my spirit races and dances with anxiety. 
The heaviness descends and threatens to choke.
It is in His strength that I step. 
In His grace that I bow my knee and lift my hands in sweet surrender. 
We don't have to walk this journey alone. 
We have One who intercede's on our behalf. 
What a gift. 
It is this that guides my thoughts. 
I breathe deeply the freedom in Christ. 
No matter how heavy this world becomes, 
there is One who longs to carry my burden. 

Matthew 11:28
Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened,
 and I will give you rest.

The sun peeks over the mountain, casting pink and cloudy rays of light. 
A new day is dawning. 
I will walk in the hope and strength given. 
My eyes are wide open. 
My spirit weak; but willing. 
With each breath I take I will seek to do the Father's will.

Psalm 31:4
Be strong and take heart, all you who hope in the LORD.

Casting Crowns
Just be Held

Hold it all together
Everybody needs you strong
But life hits you out of nowhere
And barely leaves you holding on

And when you're tired of fighting
Chained by your control
There's freedom in surrender
Lay it down and let it go

So when you're on your knees and answers seem so far away
You're not alone, stop holding on and just be held
Your world's not falling apart, it's falling into place
I'm on the throne, stop holding on and just be held
Just be held, just be held

If your eyes are on the storm
You'll wonder if I love you still
But if your eyes are on the cross
You'll know I always have and I always will
And not a tear is wasted
In time, you'll understand
I'm painting beauty with the ashes
Your life is in My hands
Lift your hands, lift your eyes
In the storm is where you'll find Me
And where you are, I'll hold your heart
I'll hold your heart
Come to Me, find your rest
In the arms of the God who won't let go

Wednesday, October 28, 2015

Fragmented to Repurposed

It's broken. 
This beautiful mug. 
It came in a package. 
From Germany. 
With love. 
A college room mate. 
A friend. 
Packed a box full of love. 
It made me laugh and cry. 
A hug from so far away. 
But one mug was broken. 
And it made me sad. 
Until. . . 
I held the fragments in my hands. 
The way I feel. 
Most of the time. 
In pieces. 
The pieces sat on the farm house table. 
Moved from one place to another. 
Until. . . 
Our friend Harold was sitting at the table. 
The engineer in him needed to put the puzzle together. 
He needed to solve the problem. 
Fix it. 
He glued each of those pieces back. 
Painstakingly tedious. 
With a different purpose.
By a master. 

And there it was. 
The broken cup. 

So beautiful. 
The pieces placed together again. 
The broken places visible. 
Not able to hold that hot, steamy liquid I so love. 
As I turned the mug over in my hands. 
It struck me. 


Even the fragments from a broken mug can have a purpose. 
It's use; forever changed. 
Yet, still. 
A purpose. 
Some still unknown. 
A reminder. 
God takes the broken. 

He repurposes. 
He restores. 
Oh how he loves us. 
He will take this broken vessel.
He will take all this hurt and ache. 
He will use it for His glory. 
To bring Honor and glory to His name. 

I will never be the same. 
I am broken. 
I am tired. 
I am weary. 
Our God though. . . 

Psalm 121:4
indeed, he who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep.

He watches over all. 

It's been 27 months, 
on a journey I did not initiate. 
I trip I never planned.
A path I do not like. 
A way I must travel. 

With each breath I have left,
with each step I take. 
I will sing praise. 
I will keep my eyes turned heavenward. 

Psalm 121:1
 I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help.

Saturday, October 24, 2015

The Farmette is Two!!!

The farmette is two today!

Surprise text I received when Chelsea and my dear friend, who now resides with the King of Kings, came to visit. That was my house!! 
She surprised me with a visit!

She turned one! 

And now she's two!

Where does the time go? 

When I sent Chelsea the picture of the beautiful sunrise,
this morning, which reminded me of Elijah's home going. . . 

She said, maybe he is saying Happy Birthday to Lilah. 
I think so. 

Happy 2nd Birthday Lilah Rose! 

Looking forward to seeing all God will do your life. 
I wonder if you will drink coffee, with mommy and Gram-Tam? 
You know, the important things. 
We love you! 

Wednesday, October 21, 2015

Our Selfish Desires Begin to Wane, as Clearer His Will Becomes

There is a fountain filled with blood
Drawn from Emmanuel’s veins;
And sinners plunged beneath that flood
Lose all their guilty stains.
Lose all their guilty stains,
Lose all their guilty stains;
And sinners plunged beneath that flood
Lose all their guilty stains.

I sit at the piano. 
It's been so long. 
My fingers feel funny on the keys.

The framed saying from a friend, now residing with the King of Kings,
rests stately on the top of the piano.

I think of her. 

The dying thief rejoiced to see
That fountain in his day;
And there have I, though vile as he,
Washed all my sins away.
Washed all my sins away,
Washed all my sins away;
And there have I, though vile as he,
Washed all my sins away.

As I play I can hear the steady beat of the drum. 
His way. 
My drummer.

Now too , residing with the King of Kings. 
I revel in the washing of my sins. 
I am saved. 
I am clean. 
Because of Him. 

Dear dying Lamb, Thy precious blood
Shall never lose its power
Till all the ransomed church of God
Be saved, to sin no more.
Be saved, to sin no more,
Be saved, to sin no more;
Till all the ransomed church of God
Be saved, to sin no more.

I breathe in the words. 
This Ancient Hymn. 
My fingers fly. 
I long to play as my Grandmother and Uncle. 
Oh how the keys danced under their command. 
The melodies brought forth; tantalizing. 
A gift. 
I play on. 
Lost in these thoughts. 
I step into gratitude. 
A choice. 
A step. 

E’er since, by faith, I saw the stream
Thy flowing wounds supply,
Redeeming love has been my theme,
And shall be till I die.
And shall be till I die,
And shall be till I die;
Redeeming love has been my theme,
And shall be till I die.

We are loved. 
Grace is ours. 
Eternal life; our goal. 
Praise on our lips. . . until we are called home. 

Then in a nobler, sweeter song,
I’ll sing Thy power to save,
When this poor lisping, stammering tongue
Lies silent in the grave.
Lies silent in the grave,
Lies silent in the grave;
When this poor lisping, stammering tongue
Lies silent in the grave.

Strength gained from time in His presence. 
The journey made clear. 
Our selfish desires begin to wane. 
As clearer his will becomes. 

Lord, I believe Thou hast prepared,
Unworthy though I be,
For me a blood bought free reward,
A golden harp for me!
A golden harp for me,
A golden harp for me;
For me a blood bought free reward,
A golden harp for me!

The music soothes this weary soul.
The words pour over my being.
There is a place prepared for me. 
For you. 
When our work is through 
Until then. 
We stand in strength. 
Not as this world gives. 

Tis strung and tuned for endless years,
And formed by power divine,
To sound in God the Father’s ears
No other name but Thine;
No other name but Thine,
No other name but Thine;
To sound in God the Father’s ears
No other name but Thine.

There is a Fountain

Saturday, October 17, 2015

He is Able

I fold laundry and I pray. 
I pray over each sweet piece of fabric. 
Each shirt, pair of pants. 
I hold them close. 
I pray for this college girl who is home. 
Home to celebrate the life of her cousin. 
Taken too soon;
in our eyes. 
And I make piles. 
Neat piles. 
I love to fold laundry. 
I love the smell. 
Shirts together. 
Pants together. 
Unmentionables together. 
Neat piles. 

But I can't ever seem to to get the piles to their respective owners. 


Piles begat piles. 
Why is that? 
Why can't it ever be finished. 
It seems to be my albatross.

Is it that way with your faith. 
Are you able to get to a certain point. . .
And then all unravels. 
Doubt begats doubt. 
Am I really worthy enough? 
Can God really love me enough?

Do I really believe? 
And what do I really believe? 

As I put away the laundry and continue the cycle. 
I ponder these things. 
I pray for the ache in our hearts. 
I pray for the memories that were. . .
and those that will never be. 
I take the ache piled upon ache and lay it at the foot of the cross. 

I am not able to handle this alone. 
The weight too grand. 
As I put each pile away. 
I imagine physically handing my cares to God. 
I tuck them into the drawers. 

He is more than able. 

Ephesians 3:20
Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us,

Once again. 
None of this caught God by surprise. 
He is walking this journey with us. 
He will receive the glory and honor. 
His name will be praised. 
We will continue to stand on the rock that never moves. 

2 Corninthians 4:8-9
We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair;  persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.

Friday, October 16, 2015

Serve, Sacrifice, Surrender

22 years.
6 children.

1 grandchild.
1 child in heaven.
1 nephew just joined them.
3 of our parents there as well.
The one still here dancing with the memory thief.
And here we are.
Living in the nest where one has flown the coop.
Where she fluffs her own nest.
Where one has soared to heaven.
Where one attends college.
The nest has changed.
Is changing.
And it's hard.
Some days it's hard to remember there is joy.
Some days it's hard to remember to serve the other.
I Corinthians 13:4
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud
Love is all these things.
These things I forget.
With the onslaught of the tyranny of the urgent pressing in;
gentleness is often pushed aside.
When emotions become your compass and your eyes turn toward yourself;
love takes a back seat.
Words like service, sacrifice and surrender are often over looked.
Yet are foundational to the survival of marriage.
I am digging deep and taking a good look at these words today.
22 years ago I promised to sacrifice, serve and surrender.
I am not so sure I am doing a very good job of that lately.
I can't say the last few years have been easy.
The struggle to live each day often leaving me exhausted.
But I can say through it all we have been held.
We have chosen the better way.
Today is a new day.
A new beginning.
A renewal of the covenant.
A celebration.
I Corinthians 13:5
It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.
This I will keep in my heart.
This will be my goal.
Happy 22 years to my farmer.
There are more seeds to sow.
There is much ground to cover.
I look forward to working together to;
serve, sacrifice and surrender.
Don Williams
Years from Now


Friday, October 9, 2015

Until Then. . .

The world has stopped once again.
The memory of the deep searing ache prevalent. 
And now my farmer's sister knows that ache. 
Another cousin now resides in Glory. 

The boy who used my tapered candles as num chucks as he danced from one end of the couch to the other 
while watching Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. 
Perpetual Motion. 
Eyes sparkling with boundless energy. 
Curiosity oozing from every pore. 
Mischief; the ring leader of the pack of cousins. 
The first one to laugh. 
The first one to cry. 
The first one to repent. 
The first to offer a hug. 
Deep love running through his veins. 
 He lived and knew amazing grace. 
He worked hard. 
He loved hard. 
He now resides with Jesus. 

This big farm family is gathering together. 

We're wrapping our arms around each other. 
Pulling in tight. 
We're reaching deep. 

I Thessalonians 4:13-14
Brothers and sisters, we do not want you to be uninformed about those who sleep in death, so that you do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope.For we believe that Jesus died and rose again, and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him.

We grieve with hope. 
Hope in a future with our loved ones. 
Hope in a time when there will be no more tears. 
No more sorrow. 

Hold tight my friends. 
The time will come. 
Until then. 
We who are still here; we have work to do. 
Make each moment count. 
Bend that knee before the Almighty. 
Seek repentance and restoration. 

Through it all we are able to say;

It is well with our souls. 

Until we meet again Micah. 
You will be missed every moment of every day. 

You Raise Me Up

You raise me up to stand on mountains. 
You raise me up to walk on stormy seas. 
I am strong when I am on your shoulders. 
You raise me up to more than I can be.