It Is In The Gentle Whisper. That He Speaks

He's cleaning out. . . his room. 

My farmer. 

Spending time in his son's room. 

Picking through the pieces of a life. 

A life interrupted. 

Abruptly. 

I am left numb. 

Head gear for Wrestling. 

His uniform. 

Still here. 

A procrastinator; like me. 

Things we need to return. 

Dry Erase markers for his white board. 

His attempt to get organized. 

His belt.

I finger the holes.

One by one. 

I don't want this to be my walk.

The burning creeps toward  my heart. 

It feels like it is too much to ask. 

Too much to live this life without my son. 

Too great a request. 

The tears spill; trickle down my cheek. 

I can't stop them. 

Isaiah 43:2

When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; 

and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you.

 When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze.

I miss him. 

And no matter how hard I try. 

No matter how great our God is; the fact remains. 

It hurts. 

There is no way around the pain and the suffering. 

The walk is through the ache. 

It is in the midst of the grief that we can cry Holy, Holy. 

Holy is the Lord God Almighty. 

It is in the deep, raw places that we find rest. 

Matthew 11:28

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, 

and I will give you rest

He is worthy of our praise. 

He is where I put my trust. 

He, will give us the rest.

I search through the pile my farmer has brought down.

I finger each item. 

A memory. 

That's all. 

I dread looking into his room. 

I breath deep. 

I know there is purpose. 

I cling to what I know. 

Because all else fails. 

There is nothing solid in this world but the One who spoke in a gentle whisper. 

I Kings 19:11

So He said, "Go forth and stand on the mountain before the LORD." 

And behold, the LORD was passing by! And a great and strong wind was rending the mountains and breaking in pieces the rocks before the LORD; but the LORD was not in the wind. 

And after the wind an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake. 

After the earthquake a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire; 

and after the fire a sound of a gentle blowing. When Elijah heard it,

 he wrapped his face in his mantle and went out and stood in the entrance of the cave. 

I ascend the stairs. 

I survey the room. 

It looks so good. 

Everything in it's place. 

It's a step. 

My farmer needed to spend time alone. 

Grieving is hard work. 

It is an intentional turn each day toward that which is Holy. 

To stand on ground that is firm. 

To hope in the future. 

A future held in the palm of the One who breathed life into this world. 

I can feel the gentle whisper. 

I push away all other thoughts. 

I want to listen for that whisper. 

I want to push away all other sounds and distractions. 

Push away all the lies and false messages coming through from this world. 

The gentle whisper speaks of hope and strength. 

Found only in Him.

I thank God for Elijah's life. 

The Elijah of the bible. 

The strength to step onward. 

I am thankful for the years of Wrestling and Lacrosse. 

I am grateful for hours of piano playing and drums. 

Though these remain silent; My heart sings the melodies. 

It's the part no one can take. 

There will be no more memories. 

But the gentle whisper will fill us with the strength to accomplish His will. 

Because it's all about Him. 

The cross is offensive to many, 

while bringing strength to those who believe. 

Romans 8:28

And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, 

who have been called according to his purpose.

What They Don't Tell You When You Say, "I Do"

What they don't tell you when you say, "I do."

In case you're wondering? Life isn't always a bed of roses after you're married. 

With in a year we had experienced the loss of our first child. 

We received much love and support. 

Grace.

Words of encouragement and strength to journey on.

There was much hard work and little time for anything else. 

We made it work.

And then it happened. 

Finances. 

6 kids. 

Sleep deprivation. 

Body changes. 

Job changes. 

All take their toll. 

Date nights; gone by the wayside.

Romance; a thing of the past. 

You wake one morning to find there are no children in diapers. 

The car seats are gone. 

The house is occupied by living, breathing, opinionated, stubborn, hungry, always hungry, beings. 

Somewhere life has taken a turn and you're wondering how in the world you got here. 

Then life takes another turn.

You find yourself needing to care for ailing parents. 

The battle between your home and theirs ensues. 

Add plans for a wedding and you wonder where time has gone. 

You sit across the table from the one you said. "yes" to. 

You realize the only conversations you have is around the kids or the business. 

You attempt to go away with little success. 

Spending time together is hard. 

Then the unimaginable happens. 

You are woken in the middle of the night to find your first born son will never come home. 

He has taken his last ride. 

His home forever more is with the King of Kings. 

And the one you said, "yes" to begins a battle for his life as cancer digs in it's claws. 

All of life becomes unfamiliar. 

Your heart searches for stability. 

Together you commit to fight. 

And when 20 years rolls around it doesn't feel right. 

Nothing goes right and the surrender to grief and pain mar the celebration there should be. 

The birth of a grandchild in the middle of all the unpleasantness, a balm to our weary hearts. 

The joy of watching your step daughter and son in law move to the dance of 

 new life is grace heaped on grace. 

So when 21 rolls around.

 A new effort is made. 

The familiar has returned. The conversation rich and glorious. 

Matching the glowing colors of the landscape. 

What they don't tell you when you say I do is the beauty in staying together. 

The joy in working through the tough parts. 

The immeasurable peace in growing side by side together.  

We bow together in humble submission to the One who gave marriage as a gift. 

We ask for forgiveness. 

I vow to reign in this anxiety that threatens to permeate everything. 

We will continue to take steps. 

No matter how difficult. 

Hand in hand. 

On our knees. 

For better, for worse, for richer or poorer. 

Until death do us part. 

Isaiah 41:10

So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

I know that "Years from now, I'll love you years from now."

Happy 21st Anniversary Gary. 

I long to do this life well. 

May all we do, point to Christ. 

May we live in grace and extend grace. 

And do much with what we have been given. 

Until death do us part. 

Distracted To What

I think about my earlier post.

I am distracted so easily. 

I really am.
The Lyrics, "TURN DOWN FOR WHAT?" run through my head.
For me. . . it is "DISTRACTED TO WHAT?"

In some ways this is good.

The farming life is unpredictable and spontaneous.
I need to be flexible. . . able to change easily. 

Much of that I do not mind.

But what am I distracted from and what am I distracted to?
.
Our lives should be interruptible,
 so that God is able to direct our path; yet focused enough to bear fruit.

Live with intent.
With the plan that yields to the Father's will.
We piddle away time with the most trivial tasks.
We focus on vacations and time off, more than serving or giving.
I hear myself saying,
"I can't wait for the weekend."
(Which on the farm is the same as the week. But growing up with that view permeates all)
We have made steps on the farm to provide us with time off.
Yet each time we "have off" it's really not that great.
We don't know what to do with unstructured time.
We end up sleeping.
Or watching obscene amounts of television.
Sitting.
Unproductive.
If our work is our worship.
And our work is in response to our gifts, then is it work at all?
Won't our free time look like our work?
Instead of watching TV we would be calling a friend we haven't seen.
Time spent in prayer for the kids and this world.
Writing encouraging notes to someone.
Our life becomes a prayer.
The phrase, I don't have enough time, is forever banished.
Because our time is directed by the father.
So when the vacation comes it is in response to rest.
A time away.

Luke 5:16
But Jesus often withdrew to the wilderness for prayer.

Even Jesus withdrew from the chaos.
From the need and urgent.
But He was interruptible. 
Not distracted. 
We can not neglect the need our souls have for quiet.
The need we have to commune with the Father on a regular basis.
We also can not ignore the fact that at times we need to withdraw.

 For the sake of regenerating.

A time of refreshing.
Where He pours in His Spirit.
To equip and encourage us.
We just need to be available. 
Not distracted.

A Comfortable Quiet

The sun begins it's decline in the sky. 

The light casting shadows on the fields. 

The landscape ablaze in color. 

My favorite time of year. 

Harvest. 

Zucchini cooks for lasagna. 

I have made a chocolate pie for small group. 

The kids are outside playing and it is unusually quiet. 

A  quiet that doesn't threaten. 

It feels peaceful. 

There is still chaos around in piles and clumps. 

Danger lurks when you walk. 

One must find their path through. 

Yet there is a peace that has settled. 

It wasn't there this morning. 

It wasn't there earlier this afternoon. 

Grief and longing permeated every thought. 

Visions of what once was and can be no more ran across the screen in a relentless string. 

But I sought to enter in. 

Choosing to step through the gate. 

The smell of dinner fills the home. 

The heat from cooking; a relief from the chill in the air. 

Home.

A refuge. 

A safe haven. 

I re-heat my coffee. 

Our home has been riddled with heart ache.

Filled with cancer and uncertainty. 

I have rebounded continually trying to be strong. 

Yet wanting to fall apart. 

Today. 

The peace that transcends is heaven sent. 

It is on the wings of the Praises and the walk in Thanksgiving. 

It is the persistence in training. 

I place the Zucchini Lasagna in the oven to bake. 

There is still a comfortable quiet. 

These are the times when the holy touches earth. 

In the quiet. 

When we seek to be filled. 

Our Agenda set aside. 

An openness to be poured into. 

In the striving and the busy we forget. 

We lean into a false message of productivity satisfies the desire.

And we are left empty. 

It is when we choose the quiet and the surrender that the real work happens.

Push away the clamor for your time. 

Settle the churning of the tierney of the urgent. 

More will be accomplished in the quiet than in the rush of the "to do". 

I think I will sit at the feet of Jesus a little longer today. 

Isaiah 40:29

He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak.

Enter In

Enter in. 

Enter into His gates with Thanksgiving in your heart. 

Enter in. 

In. 

"used to indicate location or position within something"

A location. 

Enter in. 

The door is open. 

You need to walk through. 

Not when you're happy. 

Not when things are going swell. 

That's not what it says. 

Enter in.

Just as you are. 

When you're hurting. 

When life is overwhelming. 

When your weary soul aches with breathing in and out. 

Enter in. 

My heart hurts. 

The burning sensation returned. 

All the dreams and hopes; all these years. 

Gone. 

In a moment. 

Enter in. 

An invitation. 

Enter into His courts with Praise. 

Freely. 

Enter in with Thanksgiving in your heart. 

But I don't feel like it. 

Enter in. 

Psalm 100:4

Enter his gates with thanksgiving and his courts with praise; 

give thanks to him and praise his name.

The Praise comes. 

The Thanksgiving overflows. 

The way familiar. 

Enter in. 

It only takes one step. 

I Am Thankful For;

The glorious back light on the mountain tonight. 

The sound of the kids outside giggling and laughing.

Chicks, (Not really, but yes, really)

I have ears to hear the chicks. 

Resources to purchase and help the chicks to grow. 

My farmer. 

Lessons I am learning in the deep struggle.

Enter in. 

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.

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;