The Rest of the Story Day #13 of Thankfulness

We had errands to run. 

Bread from the bread store and Ink for the printer. 

Our reward. 

Coffee.

(they even spelled Christiana's name correctly!)

A splurge. 

An indulgence. 

Creating a memory with the dancer girl. 

His card. 

Now. . . with a balance of zero. 

The gift, I think, from Project Graduation. 

Found in his wallet-

after they returned his belongings to me. 

The wallet he had on him when he passed from this life to Glory. 

Now kept on my farmers bureau. 

The Starbucks card nestled in between his license and other cards. 

And now the last of it is gone. 

The fear all mama's have about their babies. 

Will they be forgotten?

While we remember every moment. 

What little thing can I hang on to?

His clothes? 

His wallet? 
His Starbucks card? 

Grasps in the air to hold on. 

Calling his name out loud just to hear the sound. 

Echoes of silence in return. 

So, buying coffee with my dancer girl brought the last of the card to zero.

But. . .

There is. . . the rest of the story. 

When I woke from my slumber. 

On this dark and rainy morning. 

Crying out to God to make this day His. 

To take away the gloom and dreary. 

To fill me with joy and peace. 

I poured my hot coffee. 

I opened my e-mail. 

And there. 

There it was. 

A gift. 

From a friend. 

My gift card restocked. 

I breathe deep. 
How thoughtful. 

That guttural sob wanting to surface. 

How God uses us to minister to each others hearts. 

This gift of the card I will hold close. 

I am beyond grateful. 

I am humbled. 

~ 30 Days of Thankfulness~

I am thankful for:

Unexpected grace from a friend

Reminders that God is in even the littlest things in our lives

Rainy morning lessons

choosing joy

coffee runs with my daughter

laughter around the farm house table with unexpected company

7 days until the college girl is home for a week

heating pads and advil for a stiff neck

the ways in which we are cared for by those around us

neighbors who work with youth 

the way God has met our need for hired help- it's not the way we thought- but it is such an encouragement and joy

the financial struggle- it keeps us focused and reliant on God for every step 

God, who knows our every need 

the opportunity to trust

a drafty old farmhouse that is full of imperfect people

the mountain- even though I can not see it today, I know it is still there

There is unexpected joy in so many places. 

Having eyes to see through the pain and the chaos of our current circumstances opens a world longing to be explored.

I am grateful to God for never letting me go. 

For holding on when my faith wavers. 

When I think I can not go on any longer. 

Thank you to friends who reach out in ways that strengthen my being. 

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.

I Said Yes To , Until Death Do Us Part

The air was cool. 

Chores were done. 

We headed out. 

We dressed in layers. 

We drove almost 2 hours to a fair. 

Not just any fair. 

The Tunbridge World's Fair. 

A place where time stands still. 

Where cattle are milked. 

Displays of pumpkins and flowers line every building.
Equipment through the generations are scattered around the space. 

Where smells of roasting corn and fried dough permeate the air. 

The hum of the rides and the dazzling lights make this place a feast for the senses. 

We held hands and giggled. 

So fun to be together. 

He wanted to ride the ferris wheel. 

I didn't want to spend the money. 

We walked hand in hand. 

He asked if we could sit in the cattle barn. 

The bleachers empty. 

It was quiet. 

We sat next to each other. 

He looked at me. 

He asked if we could spend the rest of our lives getting
 to know each other and being best friends. 

I looked at him. 

He reached in his jacket pocket. 

He gave me his great grandmothers ring.
This kind, blue eyed man. 

To have and hold, until death do us part. 

I said yes. 

And this winter when the "in sickness and in health,
until death do you part" knocked on our door,

I thought back to that day. 

To all the days since. 

To heart ache and joy. 

To the pain of a child taken too soon. 

I thought through the years.

To gratitude.

To promises made. 

To promises kept. 

In sickness and in health. 

Until death do we part. 

I said yes. 

And I would say it again and again and again.

Jeremiah 31:3
The LORD appeared to us in the past, saying: 
"I have loved you with an everlasting love;
 I have drawn you with unfailing kindness.

A Love That Transcends Any Hollywood Attempt

Another year has passed. It would have been my parents 48th Anniversary. I call my dad. I don't say anything about the day. I just want to hear his voice. The voice that once steadied me now needs my assurance. He misses me and wonders when I can come visit. I wonder too. It seems the edge I once had has diminished. The trip MA done in a day or several times a month. The thought, now, fills me with dread. 

My thoughts drift back to last year and since this is a month of remembering. I am re-posting last years thoughts. I am still writing reports. Still working on book work. The beat similar. The journey to the cross still the most important. The clinging to hope. The desire for grace. May encouragement find you as you read. May hope be your companion. 

The Beat of the Heart

Today is my parents Anniversary. It would have been their 47th. Last year we celebrated their 46th in the hospital at Brigham and Woman's. The doctors brought them a cake. . . honoring their years together as mom's life slipped slowly from her. . .I have said before, my parents relationship was  NOT perfect. They fought, said hurtful things, threatened to break that vow they had once cherished. Yet, they stuck it out. They persevered. And it became beautiful. This year mom celebrates in Heaven. . .that perfect Bride of Christ. . .

It was interesting to watch as dad's memory faded, the tenderness he brought to their relationship. When once mom had longed to get flowers or have him be more loving. . .He now was all those things. He would bring flowers, not remembering he had brought some a few days ago. As the realization that mom's cancer had progressed to the point that the ebb and flow of life would be silenced. . .he grew tender and attentive. She grew softer and peaceful. It was beautiful. It was also a gift. And on the day that the LORD called mom home, dad was right beside her. 

 I thought my heart was breaking when mom died in December. She was 69. She had a new grandchild. It was hard to lose her. But we praised God for her life and the blessing that she was able to see Tristan be born and then experience his baptism. Oh what a service that was! Mom standing up out of her wheel chair to give praise to the living God who was calling her home. . .moment by moment. 

I thought my heart was breaking in June when I picked up our sweet puppy from the hard packed road and watched him slip away in my arms. . . When I had to meet Clarissa in the driveway and let her know her precious white bundle had been snatched from this earth, too soon. 

And I then thought my heart might stop beating the night the visitors came to my door to tell me our son had not survived a car accident. . .so close to home . . .And those moments stilled the world for me. As the wee hours of the morning passed. . .I needed to  climb the stairs, walk past his room and tell his siblings that their brother now resided with the King of Kings. 

Each morning the sun rises. . .the milking needs to be done and the beat of the day presses the necessity forward. I am honored and blessed to have friends who have come along side me. . . and are just present in my home. They have folded laundry while I type out evaluations. They have washed dishes and watered plants while I do book work; they have played with my kids while I climb those stairs to lie on my sons bed and pour out my beating heart to the One who gives, and takes life. 

My heart will continue to beat until I am called home. Sometimes I think the beat will be unsteady as my aching heart longs for what it can not have. 

And as each sunrise comes, I will lift mine eyes to the hills from whence my help cometh. (Psalm 121) 

And I will give thanks and praise. 
I will stay wrapped in the love that comes because One gave all, so that all might live. 

I posted this song before. It is by a classmate of Elijah's. 

She is a gem, and a treasure. She has a gift and she gave it. 
And for that I am grateful. . . 

At Your Pace by Mikayla Keleman

The Cost Of The Cross

Snow. In April. 

Poor man's fertilizer. 

The temperature has dropped 30 degrees. 

The water has traveled outside it's boundaries. 

Warm air has given way to a bitter wind. 

Reminding us that winter has not had it's final say. 

It is Holy Week. 

For some, this means nothing.

For me. 

It is everything. 
The journey Jesus took to the cross is the defining piece of my faith. 

He came into Jerusalem Hailed as King and left Jerusalem via the cross.

He took on the dirty and broken; so that we might live. 

He died to save a wretch like me; 

when He himself was sinless. 

And as we travel to the cross this week. 

I weigh the cost. 

It cost him everything that I might have life. 

He had no regard for his own being. 

He willingly laid down his life for mine. 

It was not taken. He gave. 

I do nothing to deserve it. 

It's mine. Because He said so. 

As I watch rivers skip their banks,

 and water erode a section on a road in a matter of moments;

I am reminded that things of this earth are temporal. 

This is not our home. 

Matthew 6:19-21

Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. “But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, 

where neither moth nor rust destroys, and where thieves do not break in or steal;

 for where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

We're not home yet. 

This journey here is but a moment in the eyes of the Lord. 

We grieve this week for a friend. 

I am trying to sort it all out. 

We rejoice that he is home. 

He dances the streets of Gold with my son. 

He died serving. 

The cost of the cross. 

Doing what He felt God called Him to do. 

My heart knows this. 

But when that calling was for you the guilt thief struts in.

Bold and brass.

He died to help a wretch like me.

We will pay our last respects and celebrate his home going. 

Tucked right in the middle of Palm Sunday and Maundy Thursday. 

There is deep spiritual significance there. 

I will wrestle with this joy in the midst of grief. 

We are a people who grieve with hope; no matter how heavy the load becomes. 

All I know is I'm not home yet

This is not where I belong. 

Take this world and give me Jesus

This is not where I belong. 

Where Do You Go When You Can't Leave?

The wind howls.

It's vet check.

Robinson's come to fill the tenant house with fuel.. 

This winter won't quit.

Separating cows to be dried off seems like such an ominous task
when the wind steals your breath and your fingers feel numb. . . at the end of March. 

How do you maintain any kind of a positive attitude when the
sun doesn't shine and the icy gusts chill to the bone?

Many leave. 

They leave Vermont for warmer weather. 

They head out on vacation. 

If our hired help situation was different, we too would join the throngs
 headed to a tropical paradise. 

My farmer can't get warm.

Deep loss, chemo, radiation  and depression leave him cold;  

defenseless against the bitter winter. 

What is the remedy? 

Last week I turned up the volume and listened to Christmas music. 

I celebrated Advent right in the center of Lent. 

Today, I reach deeper. 

Winter's clutches won't let go.

The talons of depression are tightly attached to my farmer. 

Snow, ice and everything frozen keep important work from being done.
And the door to discouragement, for me, is ajar.
I fight with all I have.
I cling to what I know.

Psalm 62: 5-6
Yes, my soul, find rest in God;
    my hope comes from him.
He alone is my rock and my salvation,
 my fortress where I will not be shaken

It is in finding the quiet.
  Rest in the Lord.
The Lessons in Lent I seek. 
If I choose to wallow and name all that is wrong, I descend into the pit.
But when I count a Thousand Gifts; I name that for which I am thankful.
Something happens. 
God meets me there; in my brokenness and pain.
He goes before me, I am not alone. (Building 429)
He lifts me out of the pit and sets my feet on firm ground.

Psalm 40:2
He lifted me out of the pit of despair, out of the mud and the mire. 
He set my feet on solid ground and steadied me as I walked along.

The well worn path is there.  I remain on that path. 

I sing a childhood song.

Count your blessings, name them one by one. 

Count your blessings see what God has done.

My feet are planted; I will stand. 

Whatever may come our way. 

We won't be shaken!

Don't We All Just Want To Be Loved?

My Youth Pastor spoke at our wedding. He performed the ceremony  in our field, over looking the beautiful, fall landscape and Mount Mansfield. He spoke on Love. (Big surprise! Right?) He quoted lyrics from secular songs. " I want to know what Love is", "Love; it never hurt so good". An entire society trying to figure out how to do love.

Well, I am adding my 2 cents today to the litany of love experts.

Love. It's not what you think. The romance and the chocolate. The flowers and the sex. It all has little to do with love. I know. Love has more to do with the sacrificing than the receiving. I saw real love in action. As cancer ravaged my mother's body and the memory thief knocked on my dad's door.  I saw. In sickness. . .He wouldn't leave her side. A man who never shed a tear in my presence but once. A man prone to forget the Anniversary but not the Football game. A man now desperately trying to find out why such a wonderful woman has to suffer. I saw him meet every need she had. I saw a tenderness I had never seen. I saw love.

Love. It's not what you think. It has little to do with money. (though really someday I wouldn't mind not having to scrimp every penny. But then I wouldn't know what I know) It has nothing to do with looks or the things thrown in our faces by media. I know. Because I have seen love. When my middle was swollen  beyond human imagination. In joy. . .When I am angry and bothered and want a vacation from myself. I have seen love. And when the unimaginable happens and the precious is torn from your life and you stand at your sons grave. In Sorrow. . .You see love. You feel love and you know love. And when the doctor returns your call and the diagnosis is cancer and you stare deep into each others eyes and everything you need to know is right there. That's love. And when the effects of chemo and radiation leave you barely able to stay awake or eat and you still go to the Diner because you know that's what she wants and you never complain. That's love.

I Corinthians 13:4

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.  It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.  Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.  It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

Love. It's not what you think. I've received it. I've done nothing to earn it. He gave; the overwhelming grace sent by the Father. A love that transcends all. A life ransomed for mine. The assurance of eternal life. His life for mine. Love. What a thing. A love that will never let me go. . .ever.

Love has been demonstrated daily since our son was called home. Meals, financial support, hugs, flowers, letters, gifts, cards, acts of service, phone calls; the list goes on. The desire to help us stand when we can't find our way. The fruit of pure love.

Twila Paris~How beautiful, when humble hearts give, 

the fruit of pure love, so that others may live. How beautiful. . .Is the Body of Christ.

So if you're looking for love. I am sure "you're looking in all the wrong places". You'll find it when you lay to rest your son. You'll find it when toxic cocktails weave their way through your spouses veins. You'll find it when you give all you have to give and then some more. You'll find it when you take the "I need" out of your vocabulary. You'll find it best when the divine meets the sovereign and you hand over all that you are, all that you need, to the only One that will love you completely.

 I will take my hearts in the snow. Hearts on my clothesline and when the weather is too bad, strings of hearts in my living room. I will take the knowing looks. The graveyard visits and dates to the infusion center. I will remove the " I need, or I deserve" and seek to serve with all I have.

John 15:13

Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one's life for one's friends.

When The Wind Blows And The House Shakes. . . Day #19 of Thankfulness

Some nights I think the wind will blow this old farmhouse right to the ground. 

With every gust the shutters rattle; windows shiver.

There are stress lines in rooms without wallpaper that show the give and take. 

The history this home has seen. 

Love, worn deep into the banister from hands through the years.

Grooves in the wood floor, from the farmers path every morning and evening, over decades. 

Love worn right through the couches and most everything in this home. 

The door to this home, wide open, for generations.
And the night of the wake for our son, those doors were open.
We flung them wide.
And through those doors walked generations of love.
Through those doors came the lost, and broken, the hurting.

A continuous welcome. 

There are no strangers here.

It is grace and love, sprinkled with joy. 

It is what drew my heart to this place. 

The sense of belonging, the tug of simplicity yet, layers of complexity. 

And the foundation of this house is solid rock

(really, it's a stone foundation)

It's strong and built to last.

It is the way of our faith.

It is rooted.
And though the wind blows, the shutters rattle, windows shiver;
the house will stand.

Luke 6:48
They are like a man building a house, 
who dug down deep and laid the foundation on rock. 
When a flood came, the torrent struck that house but could not shake it,
 because it was well built.

Day #19 of Thankfulness

I am Thankful for:

A home filled with love

Oh there's fighting too, I just think it's a different kind of love

History that leaves a legacy of Godly men and woman 

News, as my husband drifts off to sleep, that his scans were clear

Children that giggle and play

stories

The legacy of family

love that runs deep and faith even deeper

Hope that the struggle will end

Snoring, may I never grow tired of the sound

Sunshine streaming through dirt laden windows

Time at the desk to dig through the layers

brothers who don't mind listening 

A cousin who is the sister I never had

SIL's who love their brother so very much
BIL's who spends time helping

Offers of help around the farm

this season of intentionally being thankful, I so often forget
That even though my heart is breaking, God will see us through
that even though I feel so overwhelmed and hard pressed;
there are folks who are helping to carry our burdens
The wind reminding us of the only solid foundation


When my world falls apart and the light turns to dark,
when the clouds gather round and the storms overwhelm
When my heart breaks in half and my strength cannot last
When I am lost in this land and I can't see your plan
I'll stand
On Christ the solid rock. . .all other ground is sinking sand!
Through every high and stormy gale
My Anchor holds within the veil!