He Made Me Laugh

He made me laugh. 

That second born son. 

The one who shoulders the weight. 

The future. 

He made me laugh. 

He loves Christmas.

Always has. 

Little sleep. 

So excited. 

A bundle of joy. 

Energy. 

Complying with my request, for a cup of coffee, before presents, on Christmas morning;
 he will have one waiting. . . long before it is time to be awake. 

Energy. 

Sheer joy. 

Over presents.

Over a babe in a manger.
Wonder. 

Contagious. 

And at 15 that joy is still there. 

I walk into the dining room after my shower. . . and I can hear it. 

And deep down I can feel the joy. 

He has turned on the Christmas music. 

Not just any Christmas music. 

Gene Autrey. . .Brenda Lee. 

Nana's favorite kind. 

The songs stir within a plethora of emotions.

Too early you say? 

Is it? 

Is it too early to rejoice in a gift given?
To find joy amid deep pain.
To take the mundane and turn it around?
I don't think so. 
And when that man/boy plays the Christmas music.
I know deep within there is still a boy.
There is still the pure delight in the age old magic of that starlit night;
when the holy touched the earth.

Isaiah 9:6
For unto us a Child is born,
Unto us a Son is given;

Fill My Cup

She stands at my door. 

She who has lost much. 

My mind flashes to the first time I saw her at my door. 

She and her beloved husband. 

Standing there.

He, with his mug ready for filling. 

Hot coffee was needed. 

A twinkle in his eye. 

A kindred spirit. 

She stood there quiet while I filled his cup. 

She now stands in the same space. 

But the life long partner has been called home. 

She stands taller.

More sure of herself.

She gives me encouragement. 

She fills my cup. 

Isn't that what we need to do? 

Aren't our cups empty; needing to be filled?
We can choose to pour into them bitterness and wrath; vile thoughts and cheap actions.
Or we can step back and allow God to fill our cup. 

He will fill it right up.
He will take his mercy and grace and pour them in.
Even when your heart is breaking.
He will meet you in the quiet.
He will fill that cup.
He will be your portion.
So take your empty cup and let it be filled.

Psalm 16:5
LORD, you alone are my portion and my cup; you make my lot secure.

The Hope For Today Lies In the Surrender

The sun rises in its glory. 

It will be another beautiful day. 
Such a gift to farmers.
Hope.

It is 11 months today. 

11 months of not my will but thine.

A journey I do not want to travel, but must. 

This place is uncomfortable and unpredictable. 

I long to change the path. 

I will for it all to be different. 

I want to hear Elijah's voice.
I long to have my 17 year old be 18.
I wrestle fiercely in my spirit. 
We are not of this earth.
This. This is not our home.
We are on a journey to eternal life.
This path is lived with bowed knee.
In humble submission. 
A place where there is strength beyond words.
I reach for that strength.
Because I can't walk 11 months.
But God can. 
He will strengthen us.

Isaiah 40:29
He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak.

I am weak and I am weary. 

I step into the strength He provides. 

I wrap my arms around the Ancient Word. 

I step onto the porch. 

The sun continues it's ascent.

The warmth hugs me like a blanket.

The hope for today lies in the surrender. 

It's not my day. 

It is the Lords and He knows what's best. 

So I lay all of my expectations at the foot of the cross. 

Youth will gather at the farm today for the end of the year, beginning of summer gathering. 

Everything has changed. 

I am changed.

It is all different. 

I trust for the way in this new walk.

Isaiah 40:31

but those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. 

They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, 

they will walk and not be faint.

One needs to embrace the change that God brings. 

Hold loosely to the things of this earth. 

They are fleeting. 

But God is never changing. 

The Lord Our God   Kristian Stanfill

The Lord our God is ever faithful
Never changing through the ages
From this darkness
You will lead us 
And forever we will say 
You're the Lord our God 

In the silence in the waiting

We can know you are good.

All your plans are for your glory.  . .

We Yield, He Works, We Rest

Do you stumble out of bed? 

Is there a longing to pull the sheets over your head and wish the day would go away? 

I do. 

The desire to sink into quiet, no schedules, sleep past 5:30, rise to greet me. 

I always feel the need to be moving. 

I have to be accomplishing something. 

Yet somehow I feel as if nothing is ever done. 

I am just treading water. 

I stare into the fog this morning wanting to roll over and just shut it all out. 

I don't want to feel, or work through the day. 

I have an early morning meeting, the kids school to do, laundry, book work, a never ending list. 

We need to be in town for a port-flush for Gary and then back out to get ready for a cello recital. 

There is hay down.

Everyone wants to head in a different direction. 

Once, I excelled at these varying schedules. 

They energized me. 

Now they drag me down. 

My soul longs for quiet; peace. 

I realize a little too late; I have stepped off that gentle walk with God. 

The walk that allows you to step quietly while all rages around you. 

No matter the schedule, the chaos, the laundry, the bills. 

The walk sweet and soft. 

So, I am re-grouping a little this morning. 

It's a busy weekend. 

A strategy change. 

I will step into that gentle walk with God. 

Where all can rage, but the center will be peace. 

He has ordered these days. 

They are beautiful. 

It is He, that does the work in us. 

We yield. 

He works. 

We rest. 

Philippians 1:6

being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you 

will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.

When The Thunder Rolls

The rains came. 

The wind picked up and blew those storm clouds right over this farm;

and the fields where we were haying. 

The gusts strong and the temperature change severe. 

Loose items on the farm blew around. 

The thunder roars.

It is so easy to get discouraged. 

Everything hangs on the quality and the quantity of the feed. 

The rain is not a good part of the equation. 

Bale wrapping equipment can't run in the rain. 

Wet bales will not produce good feed. 

I wallow in the pit for a few minutes. 

I start to count the blessings. 

Really, the only way, is to look up. 

We stumble and fall when our eyes are cast downward.

Psalm 43:5

Why, my soul, are you downcast? Why so disturbed within me?

 Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God.

My farmer is not alone. 

There are 4 other folks gathered around him. 

Working side by side. 

Standing in this gap.

The storm passes and there are rumors of rainbows all around. 

Not surprising after such a storm.

A reminder. A covenant made. With the covenant people. 

We, the people.

Who are kept. 

Look for the blessing in the day. 

God will provide. He will see us through. 

What He Has Gained

The bell tolls.

It's been more than 20 years since I have heard that sound.

It stirs the memories held deep.

The 4 months I lived across the street.

When time was measured by the toll of the bell.

The hour. The half.

It seems like a life time ago.

All my future still before me.

Young, innocent.

My walk with God was different then.

He was all I had.

There were few distractions.

Much time spent in prayer.

Though the richness and depth came with time.

As I turn the corner the tolls end.

I can feel the companion of sadness and loss begin to permeate.

It is still hard to think clearly.

Every thought turns to Elijah and what I have lost.

I miss him so much.

I begin my thankful prayers.

Lord, I am grateful for:

The memory reminded by the tolling bell.

Being there at the right moment to hear.

This van and all that gave so we could have.

I pull into our driveway and I continue the praise.
I am grateful for the folks who raked.

The yard looks so nice.

A relief from all the other pieces that need to be done.
My heart feels lighter.

I breathe deep.

I find rest in God alone.

He is my refuge and my strength.

Psalm 46:1
God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.

Today I will rest in what Elijah has gained.

The joy he is experiencing.

Isn't that what we each want for our children?

We want them to grow in the likeness of a Holy God.

We want them to be all they can be in Christ.

For their lives to reflect the deep joy known through a relationship with Christ.

He has attained that.

He is with God.
He is complete.  

When You Have More Questions Than Answers

My son is on the field playing. 

It is his first game.

It is my younger son. Now a High Schooler. 

I have sat in these bleachers for 4 years watching. 

The memories are overwhelming. 

These are new days. A new team. 

A friend joins me. 

Her sons gone to college. Mine to heaven. 

She sits with us. 

To remember. 

To help me through this day. 

While I sit in the sun; missing Elijah. 

Cheering Cedric. 

I receive a text.

It is a text I don't want to read. 

You see last Fall, we were blessed. 

A man with a desire to serve. 

A heart full of love. 

He came and he gave. 

He hugged us.

He breathed life into us. 

He organized. 

He made sure we had wood. 

He was relentless in his commitment and urgency filled with grace.

His energy contagious.

His hugs and words uplifting.

A gleam in his eyes reflecting the joy of the risen Lord.

We did not have to worry all winter. There was plenty. 

Before there was cancer. 

Before we knew the depth of the cold that would not let go.

Wood was not a worry. 

When the effects of chemo and radiation raged; 

there was only the task of filling the boilers. 

No endless trips to the woods.

There was grace. A gift.

 Heaven blessed.

We were warm. 

On the coldest of days. 

Gratitude poured from my heart with each passing day. 

All throughout the winter.

Gratitiude. Each day. 

Such a gift. 

One man's passion. 

One man's gift. 

How a community serves. 

As Winter gives way to Spring;

He is at it again. 

The passion intense. 

A focus, a desire to meet a need. To help relieve my farmers load.

To help restore his joy.

But the text tells me a different story. 

This man with the passion.  

This man with a heart of gold. 

Has now entered heaven's gates.

His residence with the King of Kings. 

And just for a moment. 

Again. 

My world stops turning.  

I am shocked.

And I struggle. 

Why God? 

I have so many questions.

Guilt slides in like the slithery snake it is.

My heart weighs heavy. 

A heart that is already fragile. 

This encouraging, Godly man.

Who loved coffee. Who loved his family so dearly.

Reaching out to serve. 

Called home. 

In the blink of an eye. 

None of this caught God off guard. 

None of this.

Psalm 139:16

Your eyes saw my unformed body; 

all the days ordained for me were written in your 

book before one of them came to be.

There is joy in the home going. 

We rejoice in Elijah's place with our Savior.

We rejoice over Carl's presence in Glory. 

But oh, how our hearts ache. 

How the questions fill my being. 

Thank you Carl, for your gift. 

Thank you for an undying commitment to that which you believed and loved. 

I am sure, that as God ushered you through those gates.

You my friend, heard those precious words. 

"Well done, good and faithful servant."

Hebrews 12:1

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, 

let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles.

 And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us,

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. . .

Just Because

It's still there. 

I breathe in deep. 

Just a hint of his smell. 

I hold his pillow. 

I lay my cheek on the softness. 

I rock back and forth. 

I linger in the memories. 

It's the missing that can consume.
A desire around the pain.
Any way but through.
The wanting to hear his voice; call me mom.

We sit at the dinner table. We light his candle. 

We just miss him so much. 

And at some point you have to just stop the missing. 

Because He's not coming back.

All the uncomfortable shouts at us. 

Cedric balks at going to summer camp. 

His sister asks him 5 good reasons. 

He gives us 1. 

The day he came back from camp was the day his brother died. 

He never saw his brother when he returned. 

He didn't need to give us any others. 

These are the unexpected pieces of pain.

They are raw, subtle,  chafing. 

We talk about grace and seeing God's goodness.
 I think of all the ways He has provided for our family through this rough season.
They are too numerous to count.
Even today. A gift in the mail.
How would they know parts ordered for the swinger would leave us undone.
Would cause us to wonder what we're doing.
Would do nothing to alleviate the farmers walk in the dark pit. 
We have one step forward, too many to count backwards.
And there it was.
In the mail.
Unknown giver.
Blessed receiver.
It's the way of the cross. Grace given, Mercy received.
All because we are loved.
A gift for all Humanity.
Nothing earned.
All given.
Just because.
He first loved.

1 John 4:19
We love because he first loved us.

The Super Bowl And The Almighty. . .All In A Day

It's Sunday. 

And I know his mercies are new every morning. 

It was the immediate thought that ran through my head when 

I saw the sunrise the morning of Elijah's home-going. 

His mercy and grace have been extended greatly in the past 6 months. 

We have been carried when we can not walk. 

We have been loved and cared for by our friends and community in ways I could never have imagined. 

I am glad for this day of rest. I am weary.
The week has been long.
My emotions getting the better of me most of the time.
I can't sort out some of this journey.
It all seems so senseless.
So full of pain.
And a day of respite is much needed.
I will head to worship.
 I will seek fellowship and we will be encouraged. 
Because that is where my strength comes from.

Pslam 121:1-2
I lift up my eyes to the mountains—
    where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord,
    the Maker of heaven and earth.

Together with the maker of the universe I will rest today.
I will choose to give thanks and praise for where I am.
Won't you rest?
Take time on this Super Bowl Sunday to be quiet in the presence of the Almighty.
And then enjoy the bantering and intensity of the Superbowl.
Yes, I think God derives pleasure from us watching the Superbowl. 
I think as with anything, he is saddened by the actions which are contrary to His Word.
But He rejoices over His people.

Maybe He even chooses a team.
(Though I really only watch the National Anthem, when people could remember the words, and the halftime show; Up, Up With People was my favorite. What year was that anyway? And the Commercials; those too are my favorite. I know, it's terrible. I usually know who is playing though. . .)
God rejoices over His people; and football.
He delights in us.
He longs to be in relationship with us.
May this day be spent reconnecting with the Author of life; as well as connecting with those new friends or long time friends during the game.
And being reminded that your sins are as white as snow.
My friends, He is coming back.
And, oh, what a sweet reunion that will be.

I’ll see you in a little while
I’ll see you in a little while
It won’t be too long now
We’ll see it on the other side
The wait was only the blink of an eye
So I’m not gonna say goodbye
‘Cause I’ll see you in a little while

What Seemed So Insignificant

I finger the berries.

 Frozen berries with the words, picked July 30, written on the bag.

The day of Elijah's wake.

 I remember the man walking in and bringing them. 

A stranger. Drawn in.

 Knowing the tragedy. Wanting to help.

 He looked around. He saw what was left of a red headed, well loved boy;
his life laid out in piles in the parlor of those who have gone before him.
Memories, pictures, graduation hat and gown.

 A life interrupted suddenly

 He handed me the berries. He left. 

I finger those berries and I make a smoothie for my farmer.
A smoothie packed with last summers glow.
 Berries picked after the spirit of our son had traveled home.
Berries filled with antioxidants to help fight off cancer's glare.
I can't help but think of last summers glow in a bag.
Life frozen in a bag; giving life to my farmer.

I close my eyes and think back to the day.
I remember much and I remember very little.
A protective shield about me.
Protecting my heart from the searing pain.

But I remember the berries; brought by a stranger.
I throw off the weight.
It is easy to bow under pressure.
I don't want to break.

God knew I would need the berries.
He knew my farmer would need summers bounty to endure this dark winter season.

That stranger a vessel for God's healing power.
 So with berries picked after Elijah journeyed home and protein powder
 Elijah had bought while he was still here,
 I do the one thing I can.

If bringing berries became such a significant thing.
In what other ways is God nudging us to minister to others?
 Little ways.
Ways that may seem insignificant. But reap a harvest of righteousness.

James 3 17-18
But the wisdom that comes from heaven is first of all pure; then peace-loving, considerate, submissive, full of mercy and good fruit, impartial and sincere.Peacemakers who sow in peace reap a harvest of righteousness.

We need to yield and be open to the ways God will nudge.
What may seem so insignificant to us, may be of great magnitude to another.
 To affect change is to be the catalyst.
We need to live in such a way that we are available to be used. 
Shake off the distractions and the pull of the unnecessary; step toward the fulfillment
in a life surrendered in obedience.
 In obedience to the only way that really matters.

With out you, I fall apart.
You're the One that guides my heart.
Lord I need you , Oh I need you.