Reconstructing

Reconstructing. 
Each day. 
How to do dinner. 
What the table looks like. 
His car in the driveway. 
All how to live without my son. 
Each day.
Learning. 
The path. 
God has ordained. 
Not my will. 
But His. 
And so I learn. 
While my heart misses. 
I open my heart to the will of the Father. 

A young teen plays Elijah's drum set at church.
A young man unaware of the story.

Playing to Worship. 
The same God. 

All for His Glory. 

So I learn, to trust more. 
Rest where there is chaos. 
Quiet when the screams seek to find a voice. 
Peace given. 

A purpose beyond what I can see. 

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.