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.

Rays of Sunshine

The sun streams through the one window not covered by blankets. 

My farmer is finishing up chores. 

The farm boy has come in to play guitar and unwind before he heads to school.

How that boy is changing. 

He is shaking off the ways of this world;

letting of of the anger and hurt. 

Reaching for the holy and true. 

Slowly the sharp edges are becoming smooth. 

A bit of grace on the farm. 

The milk checks grow thinner. 

The transition date seems miles away. 

The cold settles in. 

Much to lead to the path of discouragement. 

It's test day. 

And I don't know what to feel. 

I don't know how to pray. 

So I step to gratitude. 

Because when all else falls around you, there is still praise. 

There is still a world of hope. 

The sun shining through the window as the wind whips and howls reminds me of the power of light in the darkness. 

Only a small light is needed to pierce the empty, cold space. 

May you see streams of light in your day today. 

Illuminating the dark places. 

Bringing sweet peace and strength. 

The verse today from the Incourage Twitter:

"Prayer is the portal that brings the power of heaven down to earth"

(Fervent, pg 5)

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? 

The Journey Home

Tonight. 

They return. 

They've been gone a week. 

Half my family. 

Serving. 

Working. 

Sweating. 

Giving. 

Loving. 

In the Name of Jesus. 

To a people in need. 

I have missed them.

Their journey home, begun.

While they will long to be home; 

a piece of them will always remain in Haiti. 

I have not shared their experience. 

I am praying for understanding and wisdom. 

To hear their words. 

To see into their souls. 

I am looking forward to the homecoming. 

Hearing the stories and seeing the glow from time spent giving. 

Jesus came to serve. 

Matthew 20:28

just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, 

but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many."

He came to give .

All. 

For us. 

 A people in desperate need. 

The walk to the cross; all he had. 

For us. 

Willingly. 

We may serve overseas. 

Or here in the states. 

Where ever. 

We are called. 

To give. 

To love. 

In the name of Jesus. 

Even when it's hard. 

Give. 

Love. 

Obedience. 

Each day is a gift. 

Unwrapped as the day unfolds. 

May this day be the day for you. 

The day to embrace. 

To turn. 

To live for more. 

To lay down the hurt. 

Seek the forgiveness so freely given. 

May we all give today. 

As Christ taught us. 

Matthew 25:40

"The King will reply, 'Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.'

May there be joy in the journey. 

Unexpected. 

Fullness.

Gratitude. 

Phillipians 1:3

I thank my God every time I remember you.

In all my prayers for all of you, I always pray with joy

Babies, Snuggles, Diapers. . . Oh My! Day #4 of Thankfulness

I start the day with coffee and a scone with a friend. 

She insists on treating me to my favorite latte. 

It's so nice to be out and visiting. 

I return home to a note from a sweet mama that she is in the area. 

She and her new baby and would love to stop by. 

Snuggles and visiting. 

A perfect combination. 

Later after a silly fb conversation I receive another note from a mama

of three under three. 

She and another seasoned mama come for shortbread and coffee. 

The day has flown by. 

And there is contentment in my heart. 

There is still laundry and dishes. 

Supper to get. 

Floors to sweep and mop. 

Books to balance and checks to write. 

But there is a peace. 

A calm assurance. 

All is well. 

With my soul. 

Psalm 62:5

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

~30 Days of Thankfulness~

I am thankful for:

babies and snuggles

surprise visits

coffee in the living room while little ones play

the art of visiting, it is such a treasure

the moments of relief from grief

sunshine and warm days in November

memories of my son that flutter through

the grace by which I have been saved

never walking this road alone

the Ancient Word

the changing seasons

moments to breathe in deep

peace in my soul

another farmette on the way

a new day to be open to all God will send our way

strength for the journey, even when we don't like it

my farm girls who get up to help their farmer daddy do chores

milk, eggs and meat all from the farm 

The act of stepping into gratitude. 

You'll never be the same. 

The Smell of Dog Pee Pushed Me On

I begin to clean my room. 

The room I have occupied since my wedding night. 

The room I have not cleaned since before the accident. 

Piles of stuff. 

Dirt. 

The smell of dog pee. 

I know it's in there somewhere. 

Yes. 

It's gross. 

And that's what I have been living in. 

I can barely begin to clean. 

I can't stay focused on anything. 

I try. 

I have help sometimes. 
A friend who is quiet and gentle comes to be by my side. 

We clean or organize and then it seeps in again. 

I hate living like this. 

So I begin. 

In my room. 

I have piled letters, cards and books. 

From so many. 

I don't want to part with them. 

Some I do not even remember receiving. 

Book after book. 

Slowly, I begin to read the words sent to my family. 

It is overwhelming.
Even two years later, I find it hard to believe. 

I feel the fog descending. 

I focus back to my task. 

I clean the books. 

I re-pile them. 
I press on. 

I vacuum and put away clothes. 

I start to make a pile to throw away, to give away. 

It feels good. 

Layers of dirt and grime. 
Removing that awful smell. 
Being cleaned. 
I sort through envelopes. 
The programs to Elijah's funeral. 
More books on grief. 

I keep cleaning. 
I press on. 

Living with grief is not easy. 
The loss of a child threatens to pull you under at any moment. 
But all of life is like that. 
Unless we surrender. 
I keep cleaning. 
I press on. 

As I clean I can't help but think of the shed blood of the lamb. 
The cleansing that was done, Once, for all. 

How wonderful it feels to have a clean house. 

How greater still. 
To have a clean, redeemed soul. 

Happy Cleaning. 

Psalm 51:10
Create in me a pure heart, O God, 
and renew a steadfast spirit within me.

Happy Birthday From Your Little Girl

He holds my hand. 

The hand that is still strong. 

Yet works no more. 

I look at him. 

This man that gave me life. 

This man that has been my confidant, advocate, role model and father. 

I gaze into his eyes. 

He's still so handsome. 

He smiles and kisses me. 

He's happy. 

Content. 

He knows no pain or ache. 

I say, "Let's walk for a bit."

He shuffles. 

Reminders for him to pick up his feet. 

I bristle. 

This once fiercely independent, stubborn man. . . shuffles. 

I choke back the sobs that threaten to erupt. 

Oh this life on earth can weigh you down. 

Heap upon heap of sorrow. 

Rough spots seeming to last far longer than the soul can handle. 

We turn the corner. 

He says hi to a person walking by. 

Gone is the anger and frustration he once exhibited. 

I pray as we walk. 

For the nurses and doctors. 

For the caregivers and food staff. 

A thankless job. 

Pouring life into folks who may or may not say thank you. 

Who might take a swing at you. 

I think on this as we stroll. 

Soon, the walking slows. 

He's tired. 

He clearly is ready to go back to his chair. 

I hug him. 

The 2 littlest farm girls hug him. 

The littlest holds his hand and helps him into his chair. 

She is soft and gentle. 

She connects with him well. 

I turn to leave. 

Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow,
That I shall say good night till it be morrow. -Shakespeare

I leave him and head to the elevator. 

I have a party to attend and business at my parents house. 

There is no time for sorrow or self pity. 

I stand up taller. 

I thank God for all the years I have had with my dad. 

I thank God that he suffers not. 

He is in good hands. 

He is content. 

Phillipians 4:12

I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.

I will not let the weight drag me down. 

This too has passed through the hand of the One who called us into being. 

These steps are for a mightier purpose. 

I pick my feet up higher as I walk. 

I am conscious of my posture. 

We are all children of the King. 

The One who loves and adores us. 

The One who made it possible for us to stand before Him for all of eternity. 

Won't you lay down those burdens. 

Shed that weight. 

Happy Birthday Dad. 

You are forever my hero. 

Mom loved this song. 

She traded her sorrow. 

She lived while she was dying. 

I hope you can trade your sorrow. 

Trade your shame. 

Stand on the unshakable ground. 

I'm Trading My Sorrow

Are You Thirsty?

The day is warm. 

Sunshine streaming through fluffy white clouds. 

We head to the river. 

My happy place. 

We're headed to celebrate;

New life. 

Hope. 

Promises and Covenants. 

That sweet next to the youngest farm girl is entering the waters of baptism. 

She's shaking off the old. 

Stepping into the new. 
The life that isn't promised to be easy. 

The life where knee is bowed and hands lifted high. 

A life built on truth, hope and certainty. 

The truth that she has already had to wrestle to the ground 
as she navigated the shocking death of her oldest brother. 

And then the turmoil of her father with cancer. 

Yet she stood strong. 

She placed her feet on that solid rock. 

She dug deep when the pain threatened to pull her under. 

She stood. 

She breathed. 

And God poured into her aching soul. 

He reached down and called her by name. 

And she answered. 

And today. 

She professes. 

She confesses her unworthiness. 

Her brokenness. 

She proclaims her unity with the Almighty. 

Who came as a babe. 

Suffered on the cross. 

That she might live. 

And she enters those waters. 

The same waters that her brothers and sister entered. 

That glorious water.

Life changing.

The water runs through. 

And she is forever changed. 

She's quenching her thirst. 

 I think of another family. 

Saying Good bye. 

Celebrating a life lived well. 

Taken too soon. 

At the hands of one who felt she was finished with this life here. 
Trying to take her own life. 
She took the  life of another. 

And the weight slams hard. 

We do not know what this life will bring. 

We are not promised an easy life. 

We in this country are so far removed from suffering. 

Our lives are scattered with pretty things. 

Our goals. . . to be successful. 

Our desires for personal gain. 
When all the while a gracious God waits. 
Waits patiently for our yeilding. 
For our shift to see Him. 
For His purposes. 
The water is cleansing. 
In a moment we are changed. 
New life has begun. 
Those who entered the waters are not destined for an easy life. 
Their alignment with Christ does not buy them any "passes" from the tough stuff. 
What it does is solidify the great promises that, He will never leave you nor forsake you. 

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."

Won't you hold tight to these truths? 
Let the living water change you. 

John 4:14
but whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life."

That 10 Year Old Firecracker

Firecracker. 

That was Nana's nickname for her. 

She came into this world in a flurry of emergency. 

A whirlwind. 

And has remained that to this day. 

Our baby is double digits. 

The last baby I carried; held within my womb.

A surprise. 

A gift. 

But they all were. 

I was always surprised with the news of "the child within". 

Awestruck at the beauty and holiness. 

And now the youngest of these is 10. 

This wee one that gave me quite a scare 2 weeks ago. 

Who caused me to fall to my knees again. 

Reminding my self that these children of ours are a gift;

 on loan from the King of all Kings. 

James 1:17

Every good and perfect gift is from above, 

coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, 

who does not change like shifting shadows.

This child that has reminded me to slow down. 

To pay attention to her. (She is the youngest you know) 

She works hard.

She is independent and silly. 

She is inquisitive and sensitive. 

(an interesting combination)

She has known deep grief and heartache for one so young. 

Her wisdom and perspective is a joy to my mama's heart. 

She loves fiercely. 

And is so loved in return. 

I don't know where life will take this bundle of energy with such a sharp mind. 

I do know she is carried on the wings of grace of her Savior. 

I know that no matter what direction she takes she will be held. 

Today we celebrate double digits.

We celebrate Independence. 

Which gives us the Freedom to be dependent on a Holy, 

Righteous and loving God. 

A dependence I am grateful for. 

Happy Birthday Eleanor.