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!

I Will Trust You, Part II, Even in the Desert

The Israelites were asked to trust. 

To trust God to take them out of a land. 

To bring them to a land flowing with milk and honey. 

The problem was. . . 

They needed to go through the desert first. 

The barren, harsh, desert. 

For forty years they wandered. 

Forty years they waited to see the land promised. 

For most of those who left Egypt, they never lived to see the Promise. 

Are you in a desert place? 

During these desert times, God is ever present. 

As the Israelite's traveled they were hemmed in by fire and cloud. 

God went before them. 

God was with them 

God went behind them. 

Many of you have contacted my farmer and I over this latest trial. 

We are so encouraged by your words. 

We sing a chorus during worship. 

"You are perfect in all of your ways."

We sing it over and over. 
It's not until about the time that I start to think, 
we have sung this line too many times, 
that I realize what I am singing. 
I let the truth wash over me. 
God is reminding me. 
Holding me fast. 
His ways are perfect. 
He is perfect in every way. 
Sometimes repetition is good. 
Sometimes it takes that long for the message to reach our heart. 

God is calling us to wait. 

We are choosing to be still.
Waiting to see what God will do. 
Hoping in the promises given. 
Knowing that our desert will not last for ever. 
One day;
the trials of this earth will be shaken for good. 
They will be cast off for all of eternity. 
For now we will rest in the Ancient Word. 
Place our feet on unshifting sand.
We will keep our gaze to the Cross. 
Where the battle was won. 
Where victory was claimed. 

No matter what happens. 
No matter the outcome. 
God is still good. 
He is worthy of our praise. 
He will bring about his plan. 
And above all; His name will be praised. 

I hope you will take a few minutes to listen to this song. 
The first few notes still bring such sweet memories of a wonderful
 time in my life. 
My High School years when God took me and began preparing me for all the was to be in my life. 


Petra
More Power 

"They that wait upon the Lord Shall renew their strength"

"Put on all His armor and fight the good fight, and in all our weakness we become so strong He gives us the power and the strength to carry on. "

When the Missing is Deep

Hi Elijah. 

I miss you so much. 

They are coming out with a new Star Wars movie. 

The products are all over the place. 

It's been so fun to look - at all the stuff. 

To remember when I was a kid. 

But then. . .

I got to the Lego aisle. 

And I still can't stop the racking sobs. 

They threaten to undo me. 

Our last Christmas together you got a Star Wars Lego kit. 

You were a Senior in High School. 

Enlisted in the United States Marine Corps. 

Yet the one item you pulled yourself away from the family for was, a lego set. 

Bought on a whim. 

Last minute. 

Yet so loved. 

It sat on the piano until you met Jesus. 

Someone cleaned up. 

They didn't know that you would have put that together 7 months prior. 

That I left it there to remind me of you. 

When we were mourning and rejoicing over Nana's homegoing. 

I can still so vividly see you on the floor. 

Your large hands manipulating those pieces together. 

Me calling you over to finish opening presents. 

But all you wanted was to put the Legos together. 

Oh how I long for you. 

It is a cruel twist of circumstances that leave a mama without her boy. 

And while I trust with all of my being in the God of the Universe. 

My soul aches for you. 

My flesh.

My heartbeat. 

My red head. 

I long to fill your stocking with all the fun lego pieces. 

I long to talk to you about the movie. 

To hear all your thoughts and criticisms. 

To enjoy the hype. 

But those things have been torn from me. 

Ripped away in a moment. 

Leaving a hole and an ache; crater size. 

I bought pajamas's for everyone to wear on Christmas Eve; minus your pair. 

In the quiet of the morning I shed these tears. 

I fall to my knees as I gasp for air the pain so intense. 

But I can't stay here. 

I can't remain. 

This beautiful tree in the parlor of your ancestors. 

Is a symbol of light. 

The light that came into the world. 

Light that penetrated the darkness. . . 

To save us. 

To restore and cleanse us. 

The future and hope of all Nations. 

Isaiah 9:6

For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

He took on sin so we can live. 

Isaiah 53:5

But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds we are healed.

We have hope in the form of a child. 

A promise given. 

One day, my dear son, I will see you again. 

I don't know what it will look like. 

I don't really understand. 

But I have the blessed assurance. 

Until then. . . .

I ache for you with all of my being. 

Yet I will place my feet firmly on the ground. 

I will step into Truth. 

I will not be blinded by the lies that threaten to pull me under. 

With each breath I have here I will strive to live as Christ commands. 

It is not about me. 

At all.

It's not about making sure I am happy.

It has nothing to do with me. 

It is all about the surrendering. 

The journey to the Manger. 

Laying before him my gifts and treasures. 

To be used. 

For Him.

For His Glory. 

That He might receive All Praise and Honor. 

 The journey to the Cross.

Where Once for All was given. 

A hope. 

A light. 

A promise. 

The assurance for all Eternity. 

This you know my dear Elijah. 

This you all understand now. 

I pray that God will strengthen my weary heart. 

That I may remain faithful until I am called home. 

Until then my dear, precious son. 

Until then. 

Revelation 21:4

He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death' or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away."

When Your Heart Is Breaking, Can You Still Sing, "Gloria In Excelsis Deo"?

4 years. 4 roses. 

2 of those anniversaries were celebrated with romance and promises; 
dreams and a future.

2 of them have been celebrated with her bringing the roses;

to the cold hard earth. 

No reciprocation. 

No warmth. 

Silence. 

Heart breaking, heart wrenching quiet. 

The dreams and hopes never to be. 

A life, a love; silenced.

And we are learning how to live without. 

We're learning how to step a foot in front of the other without a part of who we are. 

Our family looks different. 

The family photos. 

The dinner table. 

Everything. 

Everything has changed. 

But I want it to change for the better. 

The surrender needs to be holy. 

The walk, intentional. 

The cry of my heart; the cross. 

We seek the purpose of the One who called us here. 

He is refining, shaping, molding. 

Psalm 66:10
For you, God, tested us; you refined us like silver.

Even when the heart is shattered. 

Even when the days seem unbearable. 

His purposes remain. 

I Peter 1:6-9
 In all this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials.  These have come so that the proven genuineness of your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may result in praise, glory and honorwhen Jesus Christ is revealed. Though you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy,  for you are receiving the end result of your faith, the salvation of your souls.

Advent pushes our hearts to wait. 
We are asked to do the hard thing. 
Waiting is not easy. 
We rush to this and that. 
We plan. 
Yet, in the waiting something beautiful occurs. 
Our spirits are transformed and the holy reaches down. 
The transformation happens as He wills and moves.
I pray that as you move through this last week in Advent that your waiting is holy. 
That the deep peace of Christ will transform your being. 
In the darkness of this morning, I am again laying down all I am and surrendering all.
My burdens are at the foot of the cross. 
My heart is held. 
And I will continue to wait in this holiest of all seasons. 


The Piano Guys
Angels We Have Heard On High

For the record, the piano guy looks like Elijah. 
And the first time I saw this video; My heart skipped a beat.
Elijah could play the piano like no ones business. 
He was so very talented in so many areas. 
I miss him with every fiber of my being. 
I long to have him back. 
I long to hear the drums and hear Charlie Brown's Christmas as he plays the piano. 
But he is safe in the Father's arms. 
He will never know the heartache and pain we are experiencing. 
Or any other pain. 
He will only know joy. 
He will only know holiness. 
Isn't that what we long for, for our children?
And for that I will sing boldly and mightily. 

Angels we have heard on high
Sweetly singing o’er the plains,
And the mountains in reply
Echoing their joyous strains.
Gloria in excelsis Deo

Even In Our Darkest Moments We Still Carried Hope

A kid jumps off a bridge.

A woman commits suicide; a teacher, wife, mother.

Another student in my hometown takes his life. 

And I can't make sense of this world. 

Why one who wanted to live is gone and these that don't want to live take their own life. 

It all swims around in my head and my heart feels like it wants to burst. 

I can't imagine what it must feel like to have no hope; to not want to live. 

Because even in my darkest moments, 

when the grief was overbearing and the pieces of my shattered heart were scattered everywhere as my son left this earth and the memory thief knocked profusely on my dads door and cancer waltzed into our daily conversations and the joy thief set up residence, 

we still carried hope. 

There was still the torch of the One who called our names and 

breathed the holy breath into our beings. 

There was still a corner to turn. 

Light, illuminating the dark path. 

Always a step ahead even in the deepest dark.

The cross. 

The work done on our behalf. 

To live without hope is beyond my understanding. 

Yet. I get it. 

I get how life can be crushing. 

How the weight can make you dig deep and leave you paralyzed. 

How putting one foot in front of the other requires every ounce of your being. 

Your entire focus. 

We have not been promised an easy life. 

God has said we would have trials. 

James 1:1-2

Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds,because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance.

He also showed us how we should live in the face of the trials. 

They will come. 

And we will learn from them.

God will be there. 

He will hold us and carry us.

 Even through the darkest of nights. 

For those that are depressed though, they can not see that.

 It takes intense modern medicine and intervention. 

Even the strongest believer, who lives on hope and serves with their hands and feet,

 is not immune to the ravages of the joy thief. 

So, on this day when the struggles of this world threaten to pull me under, 

when my heart breaks with missing my child and knowing the hurt for some is so great they will end their life on earth,

 I have to release it all at the foot of the cross. 

I need to leave it there. 

Because the pressing in is too much. 

I lift my eye to the heavens. 

To the babe, born in a manager, so we might live. 

The incarnate; God with us. 

Immanuel. 

The answer. 

The only hope. 

I look out my window and the landscape is being transformed 

as white fluffy flakes descend from the sky. 

A covering over the barrenness of the land. 

We have been bought, with a price. 

The cross a symbol of great hope. 

Hope for all nations and all people. 

Hope exists. 

It is in the surrender to the Holy, the letting go; that we are given life abundantly. 

Michael Card

Immanuel

The Glory of the Nations

A light for all to see 

And hope for all who will embrace His warm reality

Too Many Spoons

I put one back.

7 spoons.

It's a habit.

How do you "uncount"?

How do you break a habit.

They say it takes 30 days to create a habit.

It's been 14 months.

And setting 7 places at the table still seems natural.

I set one spoon back in the drawer.

I breath deep.

  I think of the habits I have established over the past 14 months.

My time in the Word is deep.

I search for meaning.

Truth.

Help for this weary heart.

I want to know.

That it counts for something.

That the life given.

Taken.

Somehow has meaning.

It's our search for significance.

We want to matter.

We need affirmation.

Hope.

It comes in the form of friends.

Rides on the wings of grace.

We seek.

But it is only from above that the true sense of peace can come.

Only in the surrender.

When we reach the end of ourselves.

We do not possess the strength.

There is nothing within us to rise up. . .

We are strongest when we are weak.

2 Conrinthians

For when I am weak, then I am strong.

It is in our weakness that the work is done.

It is where God's strength renews and flows.

When the supernatural happens.

It can't be explained.

Hope.

A promise.