Sunshine Spilled Over

Sunshine spilled over on Resurrection Sunday. 

Warmth. 

Family. 

Food.

The empty tomb. 

The Cross set before us. 

A symbol. 

Hope. 

What was meant for evil. 

God meant for good. 

Sometimes you can't help but embrace the bad to understand the good. 

2 years and 8 months. 

 A journey to walk with purpose.

Seeking to discover, under the shadow of His wing. 

Ever longing for all to be made right. 

The tomb is empty. 

The Savior Risen. 

The hope of all Nations for a broken people. 

The sun beats down on us at my sister in laws. 

Her family walking the grief road. 

The first Easter without my nephew. 

The children without their father. 

Reaching out in hope. 

Stepping into the unknown. 

We sit together. 

Grateful. 

For each other. 

Laughing. 

Remembering. 

Life springing forth in the gardens that were my mother in laws. 

Precious bulbs pressing through the depth of the dark. 

Reaching for light. 

Reminders of the beauty in the struggle. 

When we are anchored to the Rock. 

Psalm 18:2

The LORD is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.

It's been a great weekend of celebration on the farm. 

My farmers 60th. 

A gathering of family and friends. 

A shower of cards. 

Easter Sunday. 

Celebrated around the rich gathering of generations.

The birds have begun their joyous chorus this morning. 

Signs of Spring; seen if you look. 

Do you have eyes to see? 

I am asking God to keep my eyes wide open to 

not miss the beauty He has in store. 

 Resting in the hope given to us. 

I miss my son with all my being. 

The ache so deep.

Yet I believe God is working a purpose greater than I understand. 

I pray that you have eyes to see the glory that God is unfolding. 

I pray that you walk with hope; even when the way is rough. 

Walking today in deep hope, while clinging to the Rock. 

What about you? 

The Grave Could NOT Hold Him

Reposting, because I am remembering. 
Easter has always been about the Cross. 
Easter has always been what we need. 
Even when we don't understand. 
The antidote to what ails us. 
Always. 

He is risen!

Just like he said. 
His word; Truth. 

He is risen. 

He is coming back again. 
All of creation will bow. 
While we wait. 
We seek to live as He did. 
We bend knees to the ground in humble submission, as we ponder the walk to the cross. 
And as the day dawns we live in hope. 

Matthew 28:6
He is not here; he has risen, just as he said. Come and see the place where he lay.

We live in the grace of a RISEN LORD. 

Death could not hold him. 

Acts 2:24

But God raised him from the dead, freeing him from the agony of death, because it was impossible for death to keep its hold on him.

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Easter 2014

The boy leaves me undone. 

Most days are difficult. 

Each word is poison and I can't begin to help him. 

He's lost a brother.
 Dealt with his beloved father being so sick and he's 14. 

I would come unglued. 

He's still fragile in the faith. 

And he's lashing out. 

But sometimes there are glimpses of what is to come. 

The veil pulled back and the blue eyes shine. 

There is humor and there is a sensitivity, so like his fathers. 

This growing and stretching is hard on me. 

So, when there is a calm.
 I embrace it. 

When he leaves me undone.
 I count 1,000 gifts. 

I leave Lilies at Elijah's grave.

No headstone marks his space. . . yet. 

The Lilies a marker.
Something to do. 

Some way to serve.

I place them. 
Feeling the deep ache. 

And then I hear it. 

That blonde haired, blue eyed boy hollers out the window. 

He shouts it; loud;

Mom! What are you doing? 
Elijah hated those things. 

They stink. 

And right in the middle of the graveyard. 

In the deep crevice of missing and longing; I laugh. 

I cry. 

And I am sure I made other noises that are not becoming. 

But the grace that fills the heart when the laughter comes is warm. 

That boy has left me undone. 

Oh to be a people that can laugh and find joy 
even when the hurt is crushing. 

Psalm 30:5

weeping may stay for the night, but rejoicing comes in the morning.

I left the stinky Lilies at the grave. 

One for my mom, one for my son.

I brought the other home. 

One for my in-laws. 

I will plant that stinky lily somewhere here. 

I haven't been able to grow anything; but this, I will try. 

Maybe I will see it grow. 

If we can't bend and yield to the Savior's leading, 
we will be left behind. 

We miss the grace he longs to pour out on his people. 

Even in a graveyard, there is hope. 

I am reminded of the "Dance In The Graveyard" song Ana sang at her concert in the fall. 

The drumming brings me to my knees missing my redheaded drummer. 

He would have loved this song. 

For me, it showed the joy of the sweet reunion we all long for. 

Someday we will be reunited with our loved ones. 

If you have surrendered and bowed low to the giver of life, this gift is yours. 

We will laugh, and we will dance. 

Because, He Has Risen. 

Psalm 30:11

You turned my wailing into dancing; 

you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy,

Celebrating my Farmer

He hangs yellow ribbons. 

This farmer of mine. 

He texts the college girl on her way home. 

She's on a bus headed our way. 

"He'll tie a yellow ribbon round the Old Oak Tree."

She needs to look up the lyrics. 

You tube will show her what her parents have neglected. 

We pull into the driveway. 

There are yellow ribbons. 

I wonder at it. 

Had I missed these before I left. 

She gradually unfolds the story. 

I marvel at the gesture. 

Yellow ribbons and a song to welcome his daughter home. 

His quiet ways. 

His gentle and thoughtful manner. 

And I marvel at this man. 

A man I have been married to for 22 years;

still surprises me in so many ways. 

He's turning 60 today. 

His life has held so much. 

Joy and heartache interwoven through the years. 

Somehow he has remained solid as a rock through these winding threads. 

Faithful. 

Steady. 

Full of hope. 

Even when the joy thief crashed through. 

There was hope. 

His faith unrelenting. 

Rising before the sun to milk;

 keeping his phone set to reading through the Ancient Word. 

The milking parlor his sanctuary. 

Prayer lists on the wall. 

Ever before him. 

A reminder; slow and steady. 

Life is not a race. 

I bristle at his pace. 

My harsh, abrupt ways; clashing. 

The world always beckoning me. 

Hurry. 

Fit more in. 

We're going to be late. 

While he waits in the background. 

Quiet and steady. 

The rhythm of the chores a cadence for life. 

Lessons to be learned. 

The way of the farmer. 

Strong. 

Resting. 

Solid. 

Unhurried. 

Nursing and coaxing life into being.  

Rising and falling with the milk prices. 

Taking each pitfall in stride. 

Present in each moment. 

Never wavering. 

He models the Father with each step he takes. 

A pace lost to most these days. 

He stops to tie ribbons for his daughter. 

He indulges a farm niece and helpers with rogue calves. 

His words are few. 

His actions resounding. 

Echoing for generations to come. 

A legacy. 

A faith. 

My farmer. 

Happy Birthday!

Where Will This Journey Lead?

Hold me close
Let Your love surround me
Bring me near
Draw me to Your side
And as I wait
I'll rise up like the eagle
And I will soar with You
Your Spirit leads me on
By the power of Your love

Words. 

Ancient. 

New. 

Timely. 

Perfect. 

Words that penetrate the heart. 

Reaching deep into the aching hole. 

We can be refreshed and filled; even when we're hurting. 

I never knew I could know such peace. 

I never knew the intimacy I would feel with Christ when 
so much had been torn from me. 

I let the words wash over me as we sing. 
I hold this moment close.
I want to burn this message deep within. 
Hope. 
Beyond anything I could ever ask or imagine. 
When the world seems dark and empty. 
There is light. 
When I feel I can barely breathe another agonizing breath. 
There is hope. 

That at the name of Jesus every knee will bow and tongue confess. 
Jesus has brought me to this. 
He will bring me through it. 


There is strength in the name of the Lord
There is power in the name of the Lord
There is hope in the name of the Lord
Blessed is He, who comes in the name of the Lord

Read more: Sandi Patty - In The Name Of The Lord Lyrics | MetroLyrics 

With each step, I feel the strength God is pouring forth. 
He takes our brokenness and creates beauty. 
He reaches in and smooths the harsh edges. 

I still don't know where God is leading. 
I sometimes feel abandoned and alone. 
Fearful of what the future holds 
Fearful of life without Elijah. 
Fearful the cancer has returned. 

When I stand up close to God and allow Him to wash over me.
Those fears flee. 
God is able to do the work He longs to do. 

We are headed to the cross today. 
A day of intense emotion. 
A week that began with elation and praise as Jesus entered Jerusalem. 

Now ends with humiliation, death and grief. 

But that is not the end of the story. 

God was still writing. 

He wasn't done yet. 

We have to stay in the game to see the ending. 

Just when you think it was over. 
Death had the victory. 
What seemed impossible came to pass. 

The real ending came. 
Death was overcome. 
The stone was rolled away!
Death could not hold the Savior of the world. 
He rose from the agony of death. 

HE DEFEATED THE ENEMY.  

This Jesus, who today is mocked and ridiculed. 
Believers beheaded, this day, because of their faith in this Jesus. 
This Jesus is coming back friends. 
He is coming to take you and me -
To heaven; forever. 
The promise; fulfilled. 
There will be no more tears, no more pain.
Our anguish and grief will be no more. 


I want to stay in the game. 
I long to see how the rough spots will be smoothed. 
How God will do His work. 

On this Good Friday. 
While we hang in the balance. 
Waiting.
I will look to the cross. 


I am ready.
I am waiting. 

New Life

I hold her baby.

A beautiful bundle of sweetness.

 I look at this girl.

This beautiful mom. 

I think how blessed I am. 

I am the step mom. 

A woman she did not ask for in her life. 

Circumstances beyond her control. 

Yet, she has opened her heart and let me in. 

She has shared so much of who she is with me. 

She's daddy's girl you know. 

And another stole her heart.  

And now I hold her second born. 

I want to weep. 

I want to weep for my boy. 

I want to weep for all that will not be. 

And all that will be. 

The pace of life travelling on. 

Moving. 

Ebbing. 

It's hard to catch your breath sometimes. 

You want to stay in the here and now. 

Press on. 

Move forward. 

Yet the tension remains of leaving behind part of your heart;

 part of who you are. 

I hold the newest child. 

Evie Ann Brittain. 

She joins big sister, Lilah Rose Brittain

Who, only the other day, seemed to be the baby. 

The future. 

Hope. 

Isaiah 43:19

See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; 

do you not perceive it? 

I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.

Each day is a risk. 

We choose to love and live. 

We choose joy. 

We are not guaranteed anything. 

Moments lived to make minutes; which become a lifetime. 

All held in the Father's hand. 

So I breathe in the scent of baby. 

I close my eyes. 

Here is the next generation. 

The oldest Farm girl will pass down the stories 

and all that farm life encompasses. 

She will nurture the hope that comes. 

We will share about her Uncle. 

Uncle Elijah. 

We will share his love for his Creator. 

My farmer and I will watch. 

We will guide when asked. 

We will marvel. 

We will give praise for new life.

Those Dark Days; They Will Come

The dark of the day rises to meet me. 

The warmth of the previous days a tease. 

My son, my son, my soul cries out. 

I pass the accident site. 

Today. 

I slip. 

The images flash before me. 

Images I never saw. 

Images that played out while I slept. 

My darling red head. 

My first born son. 

Passed from this life while I slept. 

Oh, how I miss him. 

The deep, piercing ache creeps through my veins today. 
The wait for next tests for my farmer. 

I cling to the Ancient promises. 

The truth. 

This road will never be easy. 

Yet I want these times to glorify the One who allowed it to happen. 

Even in my lowest time; when the ache seems strongest, I cling to hope. 

There is always, always hope. 

Not the, "I hope I get a bike for Christmas" hope. 

The hope of the assurance of the grace of the King of Kings. 

He reaches down and comforts those who mourn. 
I remind myself of truth. 
Truth that Elijah is where we all long to be. 
There is a purpose and a plan. 

God will use all these pieces together; 
to bring glory and honor to his name. 
He will be exalted. 
He will be praised. 
I feel the icy hurt and fear begin to melt. 
The deep sense of peace and assurance, once again rises. 

My strength only comes from God on High. 
For me, there is no other way to walk this road. 
I pass the accident site a few more times this day. 
Each time praying fervently for holiness to reign in that spot. 
For memories of good times to come flooding through. 

The college girl is coming home. 
The oldest farm girl is heavy with child. 

Time is marching forward. 

If I don't embrace these moments; those too will be lost forever. 
So I choose, once again to push through these agonizing moments. 
To breathe deeply the hope in Christ. 
With feet planted on the solid rock of my Savior I press on. 
I will wait for the call for our new grandchild 
I will wait in hope for God's directions in our lives. 

Psalm 33:20
We wait in hope for the LORD;
 he is our help and our shield.


And each day I will give Praise and Honor to the one who numbers our days. 

Isaiah 43:19
See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; 
do you not perceive it? 
I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.