Living Life

A busy day. 

Nothing new; 

except the feeling. 

All day. 

Something. 

Not right. 

The Cast Party. 

Families. 

Dancers. 

Food. 

Decorating. 

Arabian Nights. 

Alladin. 

So much to do. 

Purposefully stepping one foot in front of the other. 

Work. 

Grief. 

Talk truth. 

Verse after verse. 

To my weary heart. 

Jeremiah 31:3

The LORD appeared to us in the past, saying: "I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with unfailing kindness.

It just seemed so hard today. 

Pictures I hadn't ever seen. 

Quiet moments driving. 

Remembering. 

Finding it hard to believe he's really gone. 

That red hair. 

The silly, lopsided grin. 

I reach for words of truth. 

Isaiah 41:13

For I am the LORD your God who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you.

Until I remembered.

 33 months. 

I stop in my tracks. 

Life is marching forward. 

I hadn't even remembered the date. 

I hadn't understood why the day was unsettled. 

The farm house is quieting down. 

Just the farm boy is stirring. 

The day is coming to a close. 

I have much to be thankful for. 

The evening spent with some of this area's finest young people and their families. 

Young people that have drawn along side of us and never let us go. 

I can't think of a better way to have spent this day. 

Preparing. 

Decorating. 

Creating. 

My farmer helping too. 

Now the day is done. 

It's time to rest. 

Continuing to step into truth. 

Remembering I am held. 

Good Night my Lijy. 

I still miss you with every fiber of my being. 

I loved your grin. 

That sparkle in your eye. 

It's how you looked at me the night you left. 

So excited. 

I will spend the rest of my days learning how to live without you. 

Stepping into the plan God has. 

Yielding to His ways. 

Trusting in the plan. 

Gaining strength that only He can provide. 

Keep my feet on solid ground. 

My Name is Tammy and I Make my Bed Everyday

I haven't showered. 

Laundry is piled on the floor. 

Book work stacked on the table and in piles. 

It's tax time you know. 

And the beat of that clock is ticking. 

I can feel it. 

I make my bed. 

Yes. 

In the middle of all the chaos. 

There is one thing. 

Constant. 

I make my bed. 

What does that say about me? 

I am sure psycho therapists would have a field day. 

Of all the things that need to get done. 

I make my bed. 

Every day. 

With out fail. 

I wash my sheets too. 

Almost every week. 

I have curtains that are falling apart. 
Clutter everywhere. 

But sheets that are crispy clean. 

I don't know why I do these things. 

I do know they bring me great comfort. 

A routine. 

Get up. 

Plug in coffee. 

Use the bathroom. 

Make bed. 

Get dressed. 

I don't even have to think about it. 

Nothing else seems to be routine. 

It all seems jumbled and chaotic. 

A spinning, whirling mess. 

I come up for air at times. 

Only to plunge again into the rhythm of living. 

There are days that I don't feel. 

The day structured so I can move 
through methodically. 

Folding laundry. 

Correcting math. 

Driving to dance. 

Cooking dinner. 

All without a thread of feeling. 

It is those days I wonder. 

How can I do this until eternity beckons?

Because the long term hurts. 

Short term is easier. 

I can do anything for a short time. 

I can make it. 

Small goals. 

But long term? 

Seems too far out there. 

Too many unknowns. 

Too many risks. 

That is how I feel. 

I don't even know how to risk anymore. 

Or do I? 

Can I run this race? 

Hebrews 12:1
 Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us,

So, am I still a risk taker?
Can can I go the distance? 

When I think on my day. 

The risks far out weigh the safety of anything else. 

Each day I watch and navigate as I lead children
 in the way they should grow. 

Often on little sleep and a super tight budget. 

We mamas rise up. 

We balance meals and check books.

We negotiate and implement multiple strategic
 plans throughout each day. 

 Building an Army for the Lord. 

Raising children to serve Him. 

To be empathetic;
in a world hostile to the gospel.
 The clock is ticking. 
Ticking closer to eternity. 

There are precious moments left. 
What will you do with those moments? 
How will you spend the time until Eternity beckons?

I will still make my bed. 
I will enter the struggle of the pain and joy. 
Yielding to the Father. 
Rising up in His strength. 
And yes. 
I will still make my bed. 

Because hidden deep in that task is the decades
 old practice of bowing low.

Getting out of bed. 
Seeking first the kingdom of God. 
Pulling up the sheets.  
Praying for the day. 
Straightening the comforter
Pleading for a marriage bed to be pure. 
Arranging pillows. 
Seeking guidance. 
Admitting my inability to do this journey alone. 

That is how I will do the long term. 
By living in the short term. 
For Him. 
By His grace. 

Isaiah 40-29-31
He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak.Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall;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.

Stepping Through The Plan I Do Not Understand

I will go to the funeral of a dear friend today. 

It is also the 19th month Anniversary of our sons home going. 

With many of the same people, we will celebrate the life of one lived so very well. 

Through song and prayer we will lift our voices to the heavens. 
We will remember. 

Why does the pain of this life become overwhelming? 

I feel some days that grief is all I know. 

As my dad succumbs to the memory thief and we need to make decisions about 
his care my heart feels so weighted. 

This life feels heavy. 
I can't seem to find my way around heartache. 
Do you ever feel this way? 

Psalm 18:2
The LORD is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.

It's been 19 months since my red head called me mom. 

Since he slept in his bed. 
It's been 19 months of feeling so out of sorts. 
Each day learning to walk a new path. 

Each day surrendering. 
 Finding refuge in truth and hope.
I want to reach through the veil. 
I want to see him. 
Yet, the pull of the work needed to be done here draws me in. 
The daily necessities; the purpose and plan. 
A reminder of a divine purpose. 
A plan which I do not understand. 
But in which I trust. 
The rhythm and cycle of life continues. 


Ecclesiastes 3:1
There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens:


We will gather with friends from far and near today to celebrate a beautiful life. 
She breathed strength and life into me. 
We all miss her. 
Heaven's choir gained a glorious soul. 

It was an honor and gift to know her. 

It was an honor and gift to parent our son for the years we were given. 

My farmer keeps reminding me that 19 months is nothing compared to all of eternity. 
And so I will set my heart on eternity. 


Ecclesiates 3:11
He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end.

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.

Do You Know Where You're Headed?

He had less than a week left. Less than a week to live.

Oh how I miss him.
How I long to talk to him; to hear his deep, rich voice.

What about you:  if you had less than a week left?

Do you know you're loved?
Beyond anything you could ask or imagine. 

Do you live with purpose and passion? 

Or has something stolen that passion?
He was passionate. 

He lived life. He grabbed hold of each event with gusto.

He lived with an abandon that teenagers live. 

Never thinking he had a date with eternity in a week. 

He was making plans. 

Promises to a girl. 

Looking to the future. 

Hopes, dreams. 

Do you dream and plan? 

How is your life lived? 

When you wake in the morning do you think about others?

How can you be a blessing?

How can you make a difference today?
We're all headed to the grave.
Each moment edging closer.
Does this fill you with fear?
Or leave you with a sweet joy that no one can take away?
I know where I am going. 
I long for that day.
Even through unspeakable tragedy and loss, I have joy.
I can Praise the One who sustains life.
I know where my son is.
My journeys end; there too.
My life has purpose. 
The surrender holy.
Willingly.
Elijah had no idea he was in his last days.

He was young and implusive.
Yet, the weight of the world often fell on his shoulders.
He pondered heavily the issues of this land.
Often not being able to reconcile his feelings.
The days are numbered.
Each day a step toward eternity.
Does each step count?
Will your life be counted in the Lambs book of Life?
We've been bought with a price.
The price of a life.
A sacrifice; so we might live.
A gift.
Unmerited.
Undeserved.
Yet given.
Freely.
Elijah embraced that gift. 
He wasn't perfect.
None of us are.
I know where he is.
And I am headed there too.

JCC Youth Choir Behold He Comes

I Am Found

Each day I read last years post. 

Counting down the days of his life.

Searching for meaning. 

Something I have missed. 

Like an addict looking for a hit. 

I want to see something. 

I long for just a glimpse. 

It consumes me; if I let it. 

How I want to touch or feel something connected to him. 

These final days of his life. 

He would live for 19 more days. 

That is it. 

I didn't know.
My son. Full of hope; a future. 

We were mourning the loss of our puppy. Still grieving my mom,
 my parents dog,  my dad's sister and a long time family friend. 

Caught in a sea of emotions. 

Searching.
It happened in a moment.
I wasn't there.
For a moment I feel so lost. 

But I am found. 
Amazing Grace. 

My search completed long ago. 

Bought, sought and paid for by the King. 

My soul; ransomed. 

I am pressed in but NOT crushed.

2 Corinthians 4:8-9
We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, 
but not in despair;persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.

With that purchase of my soul, I have the hope of eternal life. 
I rest in the assurance that Elijah stands with the King of Kings. 
I know where he is. 
His life; with purpose, was finished.
I don't like it.  
I long for the course planned for me to be different. 
It is not.
This is the walk placed before me.
I am not abandoned. 
I am not destroyed. 

I have been found, rescued. 

I take my eyes off the focus of me. 

I place them on the Light that shatters the darkness. 

I walk in immeasurable hope. 

I cling to promises made long ago by a God who will never let us down. 

I may never see or understand his plan this side of eternity. 

But oh, what waits for us in glory is the joy I am clinging to. 

No storm can shake my inmost calm
While to that rock I'm clinging.
It sounds an echo in my soul
How can I keep from singing?

Pete Seeger   

How can I keep from Singing