The "Folgers in your cup" Moment, Gone Terribly Wrong Day #22 of Thankfulness

I envisioned a "Folgers in your cup",  kind of welcome home. 

The college girl is home. 

The kind of nice, clean house, bread baking; welcome home. 

A Saturday full of fun activities. 

I tried. 

I planned. 

Yet what we got was not what we had planned. 

Is it ever? 

Do we really have things go the way we wanted? 

I watched as my son wailed as he brought his injured puppy home. 

Something inside me snapped. 

When you see your children experience

 raw grief it does something to you. 

I have watched as they watched their 

Nana painfully slip into God's hands.

Then I watched them as our

3 year old ball of fluff died in my arms. 

Two weeks later I watched as I had to share that their beloved brother now resided with the King of Kings. 

And 2 months later that their dad was entering a fight for his life with the demon of cancer. 

 I watch as I share how our finances are a wee bit tight right now with the Organic switch over. 

And then I watch in horror as my farm boy's beloved 9 month old puppy companion, best friend is injured. 

I find myself not making rational decisions. 

I agree to something far beyond my ability or station in life. 

And the "Folgers in your cup" moment is gone. 

The real hard hitting, leave your gut aching part of reality is here. 

The littlest farm girl and I head to our knees. 

My farmer, college girl and farm boy

 have all headed to the Emergency Vet. 

The heart wrenching sobs of the littlest send me to the brink of grief. 

I watch her wracking body. 

I have only one thing to offer to this family. 

Hope. 

Hope in the One who allowed, even this,

 to pass through his fingers before it came to us. 

Trust in the God who is good; whether Loki lives or Loki dies. 

You see, the "Folgers in your cup", moments can happen. 

And when they do they are precious. 

We need to be ready for them. 

They will come. 

They just may not be when you expect them. 

They come as your spirit aches and you ask the littlest to pray. 

And her words and prayer make you realize she's not so little anymore. 

And all the teaching you have done through heartache and tragedy have been woven into the fabric of her being. 

That when the college girl is faced with an emergency

 her voice becomes soft and calm. 

And she is able to help that farm boy do what he needs to do. 

You realize the hope and trust you have spent a life time teaching has been ingrained in the hearts of your wee ones. 

We don't know how God will continue this story. 

The outcome; unknown to us. 

We do know that He will be with us through it all. 

No matter what. 

That He and He alone is that, "Folgers in your cup," moment. 

Isaiah 42:10

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.

May Hope Find You

The music plays in the background. 

 A song, somehow, I have not heard before. 

A story needing to be told. 

Another taken so young. 

It is staggering how many young men have been called home in a single car accident. 

Young men. 

Mama's sons. 

Daddy's boys. 

Sibilings. 

Children of God. 

The couple on the video tell their story. 

Their words resonate with my heart. 

This is not our home. 

This is not where we belong. 

It is the reminder. 

This journey is not over. 

We are heading home. 

We have the assurance of where Elijah is. 

He is waiting for us. 

There is joy in that journey. 

Each day different; seeking, stepping forward. 

Even when cancer knocked on the door during the deep grief.

The assurance of hope was there. 

2 Corinthians 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.

This Lord's day, as you go, may you be encouraged. 

May hope find you. 

Here is the story behind Michael W. Smiths "Coming Home."

Elijah is home. 

Where he belongs. 

We are the ones waiting. 

We will wait with hope. 

With encouragement for the lost. 

Grab a cup of coffee and a box of kleenex. 

Listen with me as I cry and yearn for my boy; as I long to pass hope on to others.

And as I  know with all my heart that He is home. 

Never, Ever Give Up

I climb the stairs. 

A routine established each night. 

His door is the first at the top of the stairs. 

Everything is so quiet.

Two are at camp. 

One in heaven. 

I make a comment on face book about wanting to keep my kids young. 

The responses are interesting. 

No, they say. 

You want them to grow up and enjoy all they will become. 

Right now, those thoughts are hard to embrace. 

When they were young they were all here. 

They were safe. 

We have enjoyed the oldest.

College. 

Moving to Maine. 

Wedding. 

New Life. 

Even in the midst of death and cancer we have rejoiced. 

We have felt the rhythm of the cycles. 

Drawn forward. 

Willingly or not. 

It is hard to look into the future. 

A future that does not include Elijah. 

It is so wrong. 

Yet it is the reality. 

So no, I don't want my kids to grow up right now. 

But they will. 

Time will march on. 

We will live through the Anniversary of the accident. 

Clarissa will graduate. 

I will place my worry and cares at the foot of the cross. 

I will voice every fear I have; loudly and repeatedly until they have no voice.

Living fully is my desire. 

God hears our cries for mercy. 

He continually sends grace. 

He is my comfort, my hope and my rock. 

It is through him the fullness will come. 

Trusting each moment of the journey. 

Today, Elijah had 4 days left. 

Make your days count. 

Give that grace. 

Take a deeper breath. 

Call the estranged friend. 

Repair the damage in the marriage. 

Hold your child a little longer. 

Speak life giving words into their soul. 

Step into hope. 

Never, ever give up. 

Hebrews 6:19

We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure.

 It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain,

When The Missing Rises Up To Meet Me

The missing rises up to meet me. 

I drive past the site. The forever slams my soul hard.

I try to work through the pain. 

Shaking my head, I continue to drive.

My heart cries out to God. I beg for him to lift the hurt.
I want to hear Elijah's voice and cook him a meal. 

I am tired of his bed being empty. 

Never to return. 

I'm tired of hurting and aching; of longing. 

I say his name over and over. 

Elijah, Elijah, Elijah.

There is something soothing about saying his name. 

We chose his name. 

A prayer. 

A nudging from God. 

Call him, Elijah. 

I remember it clearly. 

Standing in the doorway to the barn. 

Heavy with child. 

The heat of the day upon us. 

Chore time. 

Lactating cows. 

Pulsation of the milking machines audible. 

Elijah. Call him Elijah. 

It's the only time I've ever been so sure of something in my life. 

A few months ago when my farmer was so sick from his treatments, I stayed home from church. 

I wanted to go. But couldn't. 

I was riddled with racking sobs. 

The missing, like today; rising to meet me. 

I glanced at a video. Service men surprising their families. 

The reunion.

Oh, the sweet reunion. 

The hugs and the warmth of knowing their loved ones are home. 

The tears start to fall. I will never welcome Elijah home. 

There is no sweet reunion this side of heaven. 

And my heart breaks. 

I cried out to the God of the universe. Why does it have to be this way?

Why does there have to be pain this side of eternity?

I let the sobs come. 

Relief that chemo was over and there was 1 more day of radiation. 

Pain over a desire to hug my son. To hear his step on the stair. 

All the million little things you know about your kids. 

And the future. The hope that we have in our children. 

Yet, I was reminded my journey is still here. With more children to raise. 

With a hope that God is building here. 

While my pain may never go away, the work for me to do is still here. 

I ran to God's word as my heart ached. 

I opened to Jeremiah. I didn't want to read that. 

I closed the bible and begged God to show himself to me. 

Please be my comfort. 

I opened the bible again, randomly and my eyes fell to an underlined passage.
The first word I saw were Elijah.
2 Kings 1:10
I read the passage.
Call it coincidence. I consider it a gift.
A gift I remember today when the missing is great. 
Elijah. The prophet. The Lord is my God.
Elijah taken up in a whirlwind in his death.
The similarities not missed.
We are a chosen people.
To lose sight of that is a weary journey.
To embrace the cross, that is the choice.
No matter where God may lead.
Each step through the pain and the plan.
Surrendering. 
A journey not easy.
Trusting each moment.
Resting fully in the hope and assurance of the things to come.
We are not alone.
God will make a way.

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."

When Trusting Comes Hard

 I have a confession to make. I don't trust Him enough. 

At all. 

I get a call from a friend. 

She says I am not trying to be a nosy neighbor but I wanted you to
know your tractor and manure spreader were stopped by the police. 

I start to shake. 

I tell her thank you. I can't stop shaking. 

I call Gary. 

I hang up the phone. 

I sit at the desk and shake.
The tank could have flipped.
My mind races.
I relive the accident night over again. 

I hear God's voice.  Do you trust me enough?

 My shaky voice answers, No.

I don't trust you enough. At all.  

I am weary from this walk. 

My soul fragile. 

And a phone call can leave me undone.
I breathe deep until the shaking stops.

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 look out the window.
 Memories of children running through the yard flash through my mind.
I can hear them calling to each other.
I want to go back. 
I long for the days when the kids were younger.
When they were all in my care.
When I met their needs and cooked and we all sat at the table together.
No candle for a space holder.

And I stop.
 No marriage and a son in law.

No sweet Lilah Rose.

These are not my decisions to make. 
Long before the dawn of time these days were known.
I say so to my farmer when he comes in.
He says not me. I don't want to go back. 
I don't want to lose any ground. Heaven can't come soon enough.
Is it possible to stop living while you're alive?
To become so heaven focused that you're no earthly good?
I think the answer is somewhere in between.
I can't go back. 
There must be beauty in this new journey.
This new family structure.
Cedric pulls the tank and tractor up to the house.

He is so happy. Pure joy.
A farmer friend has blessed us with the use of their equipment.
And our boy is thrilled.
He needs this.
This is the reality now.
I can trust God with all of it. Even in the heart stopping moments.
I need to.
Another unexpected tragedy may happen. We are not immune. 
God is reminding us to;
Be assured that what ever does come our way it has passed through the hands of the Father first.

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.


He loves us. Nothing can ever change that love. 
He pursues us with a passion. 
We need to respond. 

Micah 6:8
He hath shewed thee, O man, what is good; and what doth the Lord require of thee, 
but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God?

There will come a time when everything will not pass through the lens of an accident.
Of Police Officers in my home telling me of a terrible loss.
I won't tremble at the sound of sirens.
It's a new day. Won't you join me in starting fresh?
Seeking God; trusting that each moment of today is aptly in his hands.
Resting in the hope of His promises.

"This world has nothing for me 
This life is not my own. . .
I know you go before me and I am not alone.
I know you go with me and I will never fear.
I will trust in you.
Whatever may come our way. . . . we won't be shaken."

Walking Into Praise

An unexpected phone call. 

Psalm 8:4

what is man that you are mindful of him, and the son of man that you care for him?

Words of encouragement from a stranger; now friend.

Messages of hope intended for my farmer. 

Compassion and grace right on the other end of the phone. 

Unexpected. 

Humbling. 

Hard to take.

Job 38:4

Where were you when I laid the earth's foundation? Tell me, if you understand.

I call my farmer. I share the encouragement. 

Hoping to lift his spirits.

He asks me "Why am I so depressed when so many are praying?"

I remind him of the enemy.

The one whose tool is discouragement.

The joy thief. 

The one who doesn't know the future; only the past and the now. 

I remind him that we are fearfully and wonderfully made. 

Psalm 139:14

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;

 your works are wonderful, I know that full well.

Depression needs to run it's path. 

Even when we're wonderfully made. 

The antithesis of depression is praise. 

Something that is hard to do. 

 I tell him about the morning Elijah went home.

After the police left and he and Cedric had gone to the barn, I could hardly breathe.
 I opened the Ancient Word.
 I couldn't read.
 I couldn't pray except; Lord don't ever leave me. 
I took a shower.
Mechanically, I started praising God for the shower handles, for the water streaming down my face, for my eyes, for shampoo and soap; for His goodness, for the towel and the bath mat;
for my clothes and on and on I went.
I was so numb I couldn't feel.
 I didn't know what else to do.
 I still don’t.
Each morning I force myself to praise God for the day, for a bed,
 a pillow, for legs, on and on.
 I still don’t know how to pray. . .
 I fear that the scans on Wednesday won’t be clear
and more of my world will shatter.

The burden of this walk too much to bear.
 But I can praise him.
 I can lift my hands to the sky. 
The gift in a walk with the Lord is to lay all those burdens down.
That is how I will walk into the next few days.
I will praise God for the next step and the next one after that.
Our 8 year old quotes the movie, "God's Not Dead";
God is good; all the time. 
She makes us respond.
All the time; God is good.


Let Faith Arise

Be still there is a healer. . . 
Let Faith arise.
Let Faith arise.
I lift my hands to believe again. 
You are my refuge you are my strength
As I pour out my heart these things I remember
You are faithful God forever

With Whom do I Wrestle?

My heart is wounded.

I am tired. 

This path is wrought with grief and pain.

The only way out is through. 

One needs to wrestle through the memories.

Through the future that will never be;

snatched away.

I've been robbed. 

Robbed of graduation from Marine Corps Boot Camp, 

robbed of the future of our son. 

And it hurts.

I can't change it. 

No matter the longing, it will never be. 

Yet my wounded heart is held in the palm 

of the hand of the One who created us. 

And as I wrestle each day with the reality of never hearing 

Elijah's voice again, never watching where his future leads. 

I am never, for a moment, outside the grasp of God. 

Psalm 139:10

even there your hand shall lead me,
    and your right hand shall hold me.

I wrestle with the events of the accident. 

Oh how a mama's heart hurts to think about her boy. 

Could God have stopped it?

Did He allow it?

Why me? 

I already have given my heart to Him. 

He didn't need to get my attention. 

He has had it for years.

What was the purpose in this agony?  

These things I will never know this side of eternity.  

I give thanks again for a community that is unrelenting in their love for us. 

For friends that show up when I am a tearful mess. 

For a cousin that listens.

For a friend that sheds tears with me as I pour out my heart to her. 

For God's Word. 

It is comforting.

It is honest.

And it is Truth for a hurting soul.

I can't sort this out. 

I can't make it make sense. 

I don't know who to wrestle with. 

The God of the universe called Elijah home. 

And all the pleading and praying is not going to change it. 

I want to know where to go from here. 

I want to see how to live. 

For now, that looks like one step in front of the other. 

Breathing in and out. 

Eyes lifted to the sky.

Hands open in surrender. 

It is thanking for the 17 years we did have.

For first steps, birthdays, learning to ride a bike, snuggles and reading, laughter and discussions. 

Graduation and dreams.

Hugs and a kiss before he left. 

All gifts given. 

We are awaiting the call from Chelsea sharing new life. 

That her precious Lilah has arrived. 

And that is hope. 

Hebrews 11:1

Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and

 assurance about what we do not see.

We step out in hope. It is uncharted waters.

It is unknown.

It is a battle to strive to seek. 

But God will walk with us every step of the way. 

Even when we don't feel it.

Mostly when we don't feel it. 

He is there. 

And He is good. 

And He will restore our joy.

He will lead us through this Valley of the shadow of death. 

It's Been Two Months Since You Called Me Mom

It's been 2 months since you've called me mom.

2 months since I've heard you say good night.

2 months of living without you.

How can this be?

I have cried a thousand and more tears.
The ache permeates.
I stand in the doorway of your room
If I close my eyes I can still hear you, I can feel you bustling around.
I want this to be different.
I don't like this plan.
The pull of all the universe drives life forward.
But I still have one foot stuck. . .on July 27th. . .The last day you were here
and I don't ever want to take it out.

 I will look up to the heavens for strength.
I will celebrate the birth of our first grandchild.

I will sing Praises to our God in heaven. . .
But a part of me will always be broken and incomplete.

Gary said today, he struggles with wanting Elijah back; or going back in time,
because he feels like Elijah is where we want to be.
His struggle over.
My mind gets that.
Yet my heart cries out with all there is for it not to be.
I want another moment.
Another day. . .another year. . .
I want him here.
I long to find purpose in this.

As God works in us to heal and make us more like him, we need to yield.
He is making us into the people He wants us to be.
And His purposes are higher than ours.

Isaiah 55:8-9
For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
    neither are your ways my ways,”
declares the Lord.

9 “As the heavens are higher than the earth,
    so are my ways higher than your ways
    and my thoughts than your thoughts.

Michael Card, How Firm A Foundation

"Fear not, I am with thee, oh, be not dismayed,
For I am thy God, and will still give thee aid;
I'll strengthen thee, help thee, and cause thee to stand,
Upheld by My gracious, omnipotent hand."

My foundation is firm. I know to whom I belong.
And as I continue this journey here, I will seek to share that foundation.   
We have had so many come along side us for this journey.
We are reminded everyday that we are not alone.
I still receive the sweetest of cards, planned visits and spontaneous chats.
Dinners are dropped off, mums on the front porch.
All treasures of this community reminding us that they too loved Elijah.