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.

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. 

Fragments. 

Fragmented. 

The way I feel. 

Most of the time. 

In pieces. 

Broken. 

Useless. 

Worthless. 

Spent. 

Fragmented. 

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. 

Restored. 
Useful.
With a different purpose.
By a master. 

And there it was. 

The broken cup. 

So beautiful. 

Genuine. 

The pieces placed together again. 

The broken places visible. 

Imperfect. 

Not able to hold that hot, steamy liquid I so love. 

As I turned the mug over in my hands. 

It struck me. 

Repurpose.

Changing. 

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.

Grief Is Work And It Takes Time

Some days the breathing is hard. 

As if I take a breath and all will spill over. 

The breath that will split the scar. 

The ache that lies just beneath the surface. 

Day after day. 

The missing. 

The longing. 

One more word. 

One more hug. 

A future. 

Where would he be right now? 

How is he feeling? 
I want to be numb. 
I don't want to feel the pain. 
It sears and burns. 

This thought line is in vain. 

It leaves an emptiness that can never be filled. 

These desires unfulfilled; this side of eternity. 
The focus of my thoughts in need of a shift. 
My downward glance forced to move. 
Steps.

Steps to the cross. 

Step by aching step. 
Release. 

The relentless giving over that brings the peace. 

The turning from the earthly grit to look upon the heavenly throne. 

Because there. . .

There in lies the hope. 

The majesty. 

The purpose. 

We are here. 

For a reason. 

We were created. 
By His hands. 

For His purposes. 

No matter how the agony of this world settles in; there is always hope. 

Hope in Christ. 

Hope in more than I can fathom.

As the days continue their march. 

As the waves of grief surface and catch me off guard, I turn. 

I reach and dig for the truth. 

The truth that sets us free. 

The truth that reminds me I am His. 

He will never leave me nor forsake me. 

No matter how the pain cripples. 

He is stronger. 

While I continue to grapple with the unknown. 

The future with out my son. 

I know that my Redeemer has ransomed my soul. 

I have been bought with a price and He will never let me go. 

It's been 21 months since I have seen this child of mine. 

Ah, since I have gazed into those baby blues. 
How I long to hear his voice. 
My mama's heart torn forever.
Yet there is a promise. 
Before the foundation of time. 

This is not our home. 

We are strangers passing through. 

John 14:1-2
Jesus said, "Let not your heart be troubled; believe in God, believe also in Me. In My Father's house are many dwelling places; if it were not so, I would have told you; for I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you to Myself; that where I am, there you may be also."

God is actively preparing a place for us. 
Better than we can ever imagine. 
Our focus and our hope remains there. 
Our work here to continue to share God's message. 
To spread his love. 
To share and live in truth. 
To give hope to the weary travelers. 
As Spring begins, new buds begin to show. 
The old is cast off. 

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 am waiting to see what God will do. 
I am open to his leading. 
I want to know how he will take this broken hearted mama and use this pain for his glory. 
But I need to be open and ready. 
If I am stuck in the grief and glorifying the pain, I won't have eyes to see. 
This is my work. 
May the work you need to do in your soul be wrapped in the glory of the Holy One. 
May He guide each of your steps as you hold tightly to the promises given. 

David Crowder
I Am

. . .Never let go 
never leave my side. 
I Am holding on to you.
I Am holding on to you
In the middle of the storm 
I am holding on
I Am.