In the Dark

The icy, wind creeps its way through the old windows.

Floor to ceiling exposure to the the cold. 

We gather blankets from the nooks and crannies of this old farm house. 

Trying to keep warm. 

With each blanket we fight against the elements. 

A struggle to keep winter at bay. 

With each blanket comes the dark. 

Warmth comes at a price. 

I fight to not let that darkness permeate my soul. 

It is so close. 

Waiting 

Patiently. 

For me to fall. 

For me to surrender to the dark. 

To all the pain. 

To a future that will never be. 

There is construction at the accident site. 

Workers walking all over the place where my child took has last breath. 

Digging in the earth. 

Taking measurements. 

Again, I fight against the dark. 

How do you do the dark?
What do you do on those days when all feels lost?
When the steps are hard. 

We are a week in to Lent. 
Into the time of pulling away. 
A time of intentional focus. 
A time when the One who came to seek and save sought solace 
He dug deep to endure the coming wrath. 
He purposefully took time to be in Communion with the Father. 

I have noticed each evening the sun set is a little later. 

The sun rise. . .a little earlier. 
Small insignificant amounts, until you see them as a whole. 

I can not see the whole picture of my life. 
I have a very narrow perspective. 

With a perspective shift, I see differently. 
The quilts over the windows give a cozy feel. 
Shadows cast from the glowing fire give a warmth to the room. 
Small lights add to the homey feel. 

Creating an atmosphere of light becomes a fun task. 
Candles add to the ambiance.
Warm cider and hot chocolate dominate the table. 

Inviting folks to the farmhouse table helps with the dreary. 

It is in the dark. 
In the quiet that we are most vulnerable. 
The place where we can be real. 
Time in confession. 
Peace and restoration. 
These moments are gifts. 
In the dark. 

I am seeking more. 

Psalm 19:14
May these words of my mouth
 and this meditation of my heart be pleasing in your sight,
 LORD, my Rock and my Redeemer.

Learning to find holiness in the mundane. 
In the hard. 
In the dark. 

My hope continues to lie in the One who tarried to the Cross. 
Who bore all so I might live. 

I am shaking off the dark. 
Stepping into the glow. 

Will you? 

Just Before Dawn

Psalm 28:7

The LORD is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in him, and he helps me. My heart leaps for joy, and with my song I praise him.

The dark still lingers. 

Coffee perked. 

The morning sounds beginning. 

My farmer and girls; still milking. 

The pause before the day begins. 

One of my favorite times of day. 

It is the time I feel most in tune with my Savior. 

The time when my heart is full. 

When I feel strong. 

It is after my feet have touched the floor. 

The moments where my soul has been refreshed in the Ancient Word. 

Each day holding on to a truth. 

A verse to cling to. 

Holding a steaming cup of coffee. 

I breathe deep. 

I let go of the thoughts that seek to discourage. 

I hold fast the truth. 

I step into the newness of the day. 

This is work each day. 

I am ready for what God will send my way. 

There is nothing He and I can not handle together. 

I want to see where He leads. 

I long for lives to be changed. 

Hope.

I long to be used by Him for His work. 

Won't you step into that path today? 

Lay down those burdens. 

Seek a better way.

With God, all things are possible. 

Matthew 19:26

Jesus looked at them and said,

 "With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible."

This Last Day of 2015 We Will Gather to Mourn and Celebrate a Life

It's been 29 months. 

Well. 

The other day. 

And I could barely get out of my own way. 

The whole day. 

The sadness overwhelming. 

But not for me. 

Not for my journey. 

For my Sister in law and her family. 

For a family in our Community.

A father of 4. 
On Christmas Eve. 

A beloved husband. 

And I wept. 

Repeatedly. 

For the journey they are on. 

For a love cherished and honored through the years. 

Bearing 4 beautiful children. 

Athletes and scholars. 

For the wake where they will stand watch. 

Where this Community will come. 

One after the other to walk with them. 

And I wept. 

Because loss is so hard. 

We are a people not meant for death. 

No!

 We were meant for life. 
A story written long ago. 

John 10:10
The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. 
I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.

Life ever lasting. 

And that is the final word. 

The message of this Season. 

The hope for all nations. 

The Incarnate. 

God put on flesh. 

To give. 

So that we might live. 
Even in hard times. 

We are not meant for death and we recoil. 

The sharp sting. 

Permeating. 

Tearing. 

Piercing. 

Until the time. 

When all will be set straight. 

Romans 14:11
It is written: "'As surely as I live,' says the Lord, 'every knee will bow before me; every tongue will acknowledge God.'"

So when 29 months rolled around. 

I prayed. 

And sank low; knees to the floor. 

Crying out. 

Seeking comfort where the only true comfort can be found. 

Seeking the peace that passes all understanding. 
Digging deep. 


John 14:2
My Father's house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you?

Remembering the Promises of that Ancient Word. 

My heart and soul ache for this family. 
I don't understand. 

On this last day of 2015 we will gather together. 
To celebrate this man's life. 
To mourn and grieve for the deep crushing ache. 

But I do know, beyond a shadow of a doubt,
that we are held. 
That the holy of holies came as a babe;
For us. 
That we might live. 
Because death will never, ever, ever have the final answer. 

I Corinthians 15:54
When the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality, then the saying that is written will come true: "Death has been swallowed up in victory.""Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?"

Natalie Grant
Held

This is what it means to be held
How it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive
This is what it is to be loved and to know
That the promise was that when everything fell
We'd be held
This hand is bitterness
We want to taste it and
Let the hatred numb our sorrows
The wise hand opens slowly
To lilies of the valley and tomorrow
This is what it means to be held
How it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive

The Richness of Seeing Day #5 of Thankfulness

The farm boy headed to bible study. 

The dancer to class. 

My farmer was still caring for his ladies. 

So the youngest and I found we were alone. 

She had been up since 3:30 a.m. 

She wanted to snuggle. 

Such a rare gift. 

Knowing I love fixer, upper shows,

she put on Netflix to the perfect choice. 

One that the older daughter had shared  about on my wall just this day. 

We snuggled.

We watched. 

Just the two of us. 

While this journey of children being in

 heaven and growing up and moving on is rough. 

It's these moments that we need to cherish. 

~30 Days of Thankfulness~

I am thankful for:

Sunshine and warm days in November

A productive day of school

Washing windows

(yes! I was able to get one of the 40 done!)

A spontaneous visit with a friend

(poor girl had a double root canal!)

dinner already prepared 

a niece who will come and sit with me and eat her lunch

A daughter, even though far away, still thinks of her mama

Care packages sent

the slow pace of an evening to snuggle with the youngest

lessons I am learning in a quiet home 

that used to burst at the seam with children

eyes that see the beauty: hidden, waiting to be seen

hard discussions choosing church leadership

trusting when there is no other way

Elijah's friends who send me a note when I most need it

learning how to dance in the rain

When we intentionally step into gratitude our eyes are opened. 

We see glimpses of grace we never knew before. 

Won't you join us? 

Ephesians 1:8

I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance in his holy people

What Preparations Do You Need To Make To Be Ready?

The frost wasn't too hard this morning.

We kept the house warm enough. 

My farmer turned the fire on before he left. 

I shudder to think how much propane we have used. 

We need to be prepared. 

As winter looms ahead. 

Wood needs to be cut. 

Air conditioners stored away for the heat of the summer day. 

Screens removed and the storm windows placed. 

All in preparation for winter. 

My freezer is partially full of summer's glow. 

Harvesting some of the bounty for later use. 

Still not quite there with all that needs to be done. 

Some steps; such an effort. 

Grateful for the gift of produce. 

It's like grace. 

A gift. 

Something we don't deserve. 

Our walk with Lord. 

Needing care and tending. 

Just as preparations for winter are imperative, so is the care for our souls. 

The intentional quiet before the Lord. 

Each morning. 

Spending time. 

In His presence. 

He doesn't need our fancy words. 

He needs us. 

Available. 

Still. 

Open.

Ready. 

Will you find that place today? 

Where the holy meets the harsh. 

Where God can breathe into your weary soul.

Where the striving ceases and grace infuses. 

Meet Him there. 

He's waiting. 

Psalm 46:10

He says, "Be still, and know that I am God;

 I will be exalted among the nations, 

I will be exalted in the earth."

Be still my soul. . . 

The Lord is on thy side. . . 

In every change - He faithful will remain. 

In you I rest. . . in you I find my hope. 

Re-posting This Day Last Year. . . Sometimes Looking Back Helps With The Steps Forward

This is a re-post from last year on this day. Sending prayers of gratitude for the hands that have held us and continue to shower us with grace. 

Being a Giver. . .it is Hard to Receive

The rhythm of the routine continues. There is hay down and baling to be done.

 Cows are up in milk and the management needs care and detail.

 It's the detail that makes the difference. 

It's what makes you stand out. Caring about the tiniest details brings you closer to your goal. 

Details may mean success or ruin for us. Those details seem hard. But they are ingrained in the beat of the day, so it is good.

Psalm 19:1

The heavens declare the glory of God;
    the skies proclaim the work of his hands.

Each day brings friends. Friends with food, coffee, hugs and tears. 

Some are chatty and silly and some just sit with me in quiet. All of them giving. . .me feeling weary, wondering where this grace comes from. Generosity that flows. Details that make the difference.

The girls came running in. I could hear the pounding of their steps 

before I saw their faces. I needed to come outside they said. 

I was tired. It has been another full day of friends. 

I had just come into my room for some solace.

But there was someone here I needed see. 

You see some young girls had had a lemonade stand 

and had raised money for our family. 

And they had waited anxiously for their parents to come home from work

so they could hurry to our home and  bless us with a gift.

Extravagant Grace.

How do you receive from the youngest and most precious of these? 

Matthew 19:14 

Jesus said, "Let the little children come to me, 

and do not hinder them, for the kingdom 

of heaven belongs to such as these."

They came as strangers and left as family. 

God wasn't finished with the blessing for the day. 

Another friend walked into the chaos of our kitchen to lavish upon us another gift. 

We were left speechless. 
I could hold in the tears and the magnitude of our loss no longer.
We have lost a beloved son.
And yet we are not alone.

2 Corinthians 4:8
We are hard pressed on every side, 
but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair;

My cup runneth over as the enormity of the grace resonated in my heart. 

The details are so important.

Because since the foundations of the earth God has managed all the details. 

He knows each piece and part. 

And this wild grace is a gift.

 This is Elijah and his good friend Thomas on a school trip for LUHS. 
The fact that Elijah is on this trip is a story I long to tell you. . .later.

Sometimes we can't understand why things happen.

My heart aches with God's details for my life right now.
But God is managing the details.
Each detail is so important.
So I take my weary and aching heart and I surrender all the details.
Psalm 63:1
O God, you are my God; earnestly I seek you;
    my soul thirsts for you;
my flesh faints for you,
    as in a dry and weary land where there is no water.

I have I waited to post this song. . .It is my heart.

"This is not where I belong. . .this is NOT my home. . ."

I long for the day when God will call us home. 

Until then I will trust him with the details.

A year later we are still trusting. We are searching with eyes wide open for where He will lead us. May your hearts be full this Sunday morning as you head to the cross. A place of healing and grace. A place where God will meet you in your brokenness and in your joy. 

Alone; But Not Alone. . .Ever

I am alone. 

The house quiet. 

It is not a sound I am familiar with; or like. 

I wish I could take all those crazy moments when 2 diapers needed changing, lesson plans needed writing, dinner was cooking, and all 6 children were living. . .  and bottle them. 

Then pull them out now. 

When I feel defeated. 

I was created to be a mom. 

And I have loved the journey. 

I haven't done it well. 

My children never had a nursery. 

I never had the latest stroller or baby gear. 

I never read a parenting book until Chelsea was in college. 

I worked when my kids were born. 

I never went on a "playdate". 

Ever. 

For all the things I didn't do. 

I am sure there are lots I did do. 

We made a priority to go to church. 

Every Sunday. 

It wasn't easy. 

It's easier to stay home. 

There were days I wanted to. 

We chose to go. 

And when the rubber hit the road this year. 

I bent my knees low to the ground and thanked God for the years cultivating faith in our children. 

My son left me this gift. 

Faith, assurance he knew where he was headed. 

It was not wasted time. 

I drove home alone from New York after dropping two of the kids 

and two of their friends off at camp. 

I was alone. 

And when I walked in the house I was alone. 

The quiet eerie. 

My farmer haying. 

The two little girls spending the night with Tara. 

For a moment I could feel the sadness creep in. 

Alone.

While others may have cheered at this prospect, I did not. 

I love the energy of this home.

Life. 

But I realized in those moments that it is not the kids who define me. 

I am not alone. 

My worth is in Christ. 

He is my source of strength.

Psalm 118:14

The LORD is my strength and my defense; 

he has become my salvation.

 Looking anywhere else is futile. 

My joy does not come from the kids. 

It is a by product of the gift of the kids. 

My children are a gift from the Lord.

They are His. 

While I have breath on this earth I will do all I can to love and nurture them. 

Encourage them in their faith. 

Spur them on to make a difference, for Christ, in this world. 

I switch the laundry, start the dishwasher, wipe down the counters. 

A friend says to try and enjoy the moment. 

So I do. 

I head to bed to read. 

One of my favorite things to do. 

I begin with the Word; from which my sustenance comes. 

Then I move to my book. 

By then the exhaustion has settled in. 

And my farmer comes home. 

I am not alone. 

But I already knew that. 

Deuteronomy 31:6

Be strong and courageous. 

Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, 

for the LORD your God goes with you; 

he will never leave you nor forsake you."

My Useless Day

I have been useless. Sick in bed. 

This does not usually happen. 

We are mom's, we continue on, no matter how hard. 

There was no way. I was too weak and shaky to get out of bed. 

I was consumed with guilt. 

We have guests. 

This is my gift. This is what I love. 

But between the heat, 8 kids, including a 2 year old. 

I don't have it anymore. 

Nope. That boundless energy is gone. 

The desire. 

Once I could go and go. 

Making feasts and homemade goodies. 

Now. 

It is one step at a time. 

Now the sweet 11 year old is ill as well. 

Zapped from the heat. 

The schedule. 

Another night with no sleep.

For me. . . for her.

A reminder to take it slow.

Psalm 62:5

Yes, my soul, find rest in God; my hope comes from him.

Remembering to withdraw to the quiet places. 

Living the example set before us. 

Resting. 

Even in the midst of the chaos. 

What does rest look like? 

How can we quiet the barking voices. 

Calm the urges for all to be perfect? 

It's only by stepping into rest. 

Breathing deep and remembering to be still. 

So. I am being still. 

Forced to rest. 

I am quieting my spirit and resting in the One who longs to give the peace. 

Remembering that my uselessness can be usefulness when in the right hands. 

Walking To The Beat Of The Rain

The sound steady on the tin roof. 

Rain. 

We've had more than 6 days of sunny, beautiful weather. 

Such a gift. 

I can't remember the last time we had such a stretch for that long. 

Now the rain comes. It is needed.

The earth needing hydration. 

The sea of green dependent on water and sunshine. 

Our prayer. 

Good pastures this year. 

Our hope. 

A 3rd, even 4th cutting.

Ephesians 3:20
Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, 
according to his power that is at work within us,

Winter looms. 

A desire to continue to find solid ground. 

The rain, a promise of what is to come.
Keep the beat.
Steady.
Constant. 

New growth; watered.

Crops tended to; cared for. 

Diligence each day. 

I have been distracted from my morning time with God.

The sacred. 

It is missed. 
A beat skipped.

The well worn path needing some maintenance. 

Noxious weeds threaten to spill over. 

Making it hard to distinguish the path.
Needing to find the rhythm.

My heart, fragile at times; needing some care. 

Pressing through each day. 

A decision. 

A commitment. 

Opening the Ancient Word to read the never ending promises. 

Quiet time spent; filled with the power of the Holy Spirit. 

Blessed assurance. 

A never ending beat.
Strength. 

Psalm 46:10

Be still, and know that I am God.
    I will be exalted among the nations,
    I will be exalted in the earth!

The rain continues; steady.
I step back in to the soothing cadence.

I surrender the days chores and "to do" lists. 

I breathe deep the promises. 

I hold onto the grace given for just this day.
I walk to the beat of the rain.

When You Run On Empty, You Can Ooze All Over. . .

The kitchen is a mess. We have a house guest coming for 3 weeks.
There is no safe way up the stairs and through the hallway with out a navigation system. 

The lawn needs mowing and I haven't taken time for my heart to be still. 

You would think after all these years I wouldn't get off track. 

But I have. 

Mother's Day, cooking, cleaning, church, games. 

All important things. 

But not the things that should matter. 

Finding that still, quiet time to pour over the Ancient Word is so crucial to my being.

And I have filled the space with other things.

My cup runneth empty.
I begin to ooze all over. It is not pretty. 

The college kids are all coming home. 

It is so good to see them. See, most of them left shortly after the accident. 
 She says it on the ball field. 

They're such good kids.

And my heart stops. She says it with such love. 

I knew that feeling. 

I remember it well. 

It was the pride that comes with a son who has graduated;

who is beginning a new season in his life. 

Words can't describe the feeling. 

It is a deep love for your boy. A sense of completion. The future before him. 

And my heart constricts and the tears begin to flow. I turn because I don't want them to see. 

Oh how I miss my boy. How I wish he was coming home from college. 

Getting ready ready for summer plans. 

But this is not to be. 

It's these moments I feel like I may unravel. 

I head home. 

I am not good for anyone. My heart is so heavy. 

I feel worn. 

Tired. 

And the tears flow as if I had never cried before. 

How can one have so many tears?

How do we do this? 

How can life go on when your son is deep in the earth? 

When you long to be a part of the everyday. 

My heart keeps cadence with my children. 

From the moment you know; you know within you there is life. 

From then on you are changed. 

You beat 2 hearts forever more. 

Yours and theirs. Their hurt, their joy. 

Their steps. You walk with them. Willing them to succeed. 

Watching the lessons learned. Some easy. Some painful.
Your presence at the throne of grace is persistent as you intercede for that child. 

And when that life is torn from you; the world stops turning. 

And still months later, the conversation at the field will bring you to your knees.
Because he is not coming home.

And the world is turning. Spinning round and round and he's not here. 

And I claw my way up out of the grief. It threatens to consume me. 

The winter has been brutal. And I am not sure my weary soul can keep pushing along. 

I cry out to God for mercy. For relief from this agony.  

I know He hears my cry. 

I know He will rescue me from this pit. 

For now, I breathe deep.
I let him pour his spirit into my aching soul.

Isaiah 40:31
but those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. 
They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary,
 they will walk and not be faint.

I sit down in front of those ivory keys. It is rare I play anymore.
The drums lie silent in the corner and sometimes it's too much.  

I slowly plunk out the melody. "Knowing You " I long for the drums to be playing with me. ""Knowing you, Jesus" I want him here."Knowing you"  This hurt is so raw. "There is no greater thing" God knows my pain. "You're my all, you're the best."  He is all I need. The tears flow. I don't hold back. He is all my focus. "You're my joy, my righteousness. And I love you Lord."
My farm boy walks into the room and wraps me in a bear hug.
He rubs my back.
This man-boy.
Wrestling with the weight of the world.
He too, stepping one moment at a time into grace.
That's what it comes down to. We turn the heartache over to Him.
We breathe in deep the joy of the day.
We plant our feet on the solid rock.
This journey is not easy. 
We will rest in you Jesus.
My hope is in you.
So find rest today my friends. Find the hope that awaits you. 
Fill your cup to the brim.

When the mountains are falling
When the waters are rising
I shall be safe in you.