Just Another Day

3 bags gone. 

2 of clutter 1 of trash. 

The girls were troopers. 

It was their room after all. 

They stayed with Sue. 

I stayed away. 

I balanced the check book. Folded 2 loads of laundry. 

Made a cake for death by chocolate. 

But forgot to turn the oven on. 

Ooops. 

Our friends were here from Florida so they brought lunch over. 

We sat in the sunshine and ate. 

It was so good to see them. 

It was so good to be in the sun. 

We talked about books on tape. And then of course we talked about music. 

Because that was how most of our time was spent together. 

Years of Road Crew events. 

She mentions Elvis and some of his older music. 

I know what I need to do. 

I head up the stairs. 

I turn into his room. 

Is it still his room? 

These are things that run through my head. 

It probably always will.

We still call the little girls room Debbie's room. 

So I find the Elvis cd's. There's also a dvd that had never been opened. 

I am happy to send these along. They are just gathering dust in his room. 

Someone will enjoy his music. 

Oh how he loved Elvis. 

Like his Grandfather and Uncle. 

He would sing at the top of his lungs. 

He voice rich and clear. 

He knew every word. 

He was like that. He knew all the lyrics to songs. 

He liked all kinds of music. 

His loss weighs heavy on my soul. 

It's a deep ache. It is my companion day and night. 

One I need to learn to live with. 

Our friends leave. 

The farm has been hopping today with visitors. 

There is not much time to be still. 

The demands of the day race before me. 

There are pick ups from the High School and dinner. 

Crisis cleaning for small group. 

There is another knock on the door. 

There stands one I have seen before; but don't know well. 

He says I've brought you dinner. 

He's a friend of the family. 

He too has sat around this farm house table feasting on food and nurture for the soul. 

It's probably been 35 years since those days; but to all who enter here, it was yesterday. 

The memories of this place are strong. 

I long to keep them alive. 

A place where all are welcome. 

Where Christ sits at the head of the table. 

A message of hope for all to hear. 

A refuge for the weary. 

Romans 10:17

Consequently, faith comes from hearing the message,

 and the message is heard through the word about Christ.

But buried deep beneath 

All our broken dreams we have this hope;

Out of these ashes. . .beauty will rise

and we will dance among the ruins

We will see Him with our own eyes. . . 

For we know joy is coming in the morning. 

Even When I Feel Alone. . . He Is There

They came to the farm.
We knew little of what was happening.
Never had any idea of the magnitude of the gift.
They were there to serve.
Quietly.
And today.
When there is still snow on the ground, when depression's clutches dig deep;
when the wind blows causing temperatures to plunge to freezing, we are reminded of the gift.
Reminded that the farmer does not have to go each day to forage for wood.
It is there. Piled high.

It is grace. All wrapped in a beautiful package.
When those pieces of love were cut and stacked, there was no diagnosis of cancer.
There was just deep heartache and loss.
The void of the 17 year old man boy; our red headed son.
We were reeling with grief. Stepping one foot in front of the other.
Holding on to hope. Clinging to what we know.
Being held by a community spurred to action by the magnitude of great loss.
The diagnosis of cancer would come later; after the the wood was cut.
After it was all stacked and piled high.
It would come when we least expected it.
When the majestic color splashed across the landscape dulled it's hue.
When the night's hours grew longer.
The diagnosis came.
And those pieces of love became the sustenance of life,
while the temperatures plummeted to record lows.
And cold remained for days on end.
While friends and brother in laws tossed the fuel into the burning embers, we were kept; warm.
As Spring approaches and no visible signs in this northern climate.
I hold those memories dear.
I rest in the being held.
My mom would send flowers when the snow lingered a bit longer.
She would remind me that Spring really will come.
Even though I can't see it. 
A work is being done.
Provision being made.
God knew our needs and He provided.
Even when I don't feel like He is there.
Even when I feel alone.
He is there. 
And I am grateful. 
Searching for the quiet. Unloading a bag a day.

I Am Holding on to you. . .

1 Bag, 2 bag, 3 bag, 4

A bag a day. 

Go me. 

 I start out strong. 

3 full size garbage bags.

Off to Goodwill and a few second hand stores. 

Maybe I can earn a little something. 

I got this; It's easy peasy. 

Day 4.

I move to a smaller bag.

I still got this.

I clean out drawers. 

I decide a bag of trash counts. 

I still have this. 

I move to a grocery bag size. 

But I still got this. 

I am in it for the long haul.

I may have started out with gusto, but I am at my pace now. 

Even a grocery size bag is something.

But something else is happening. 

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.

With each bag goes a part of me. Pieces of me that have been weighed down for years.

Things  I don't need. 

Really, have never needed. 

The freeing feeling of walking through a room that is not full of stuff. 

OK, I am not there yet. But I am gaining in that area. 

It's amazing the things we hold on to. The things we think we will need one day. 

Since Elijah left us; everything looks different. 

I see everything through a different lens. A lot of the clutter has lost it's appeal.
The things I held tightly to, are easy to let go.
As I de-clutter the house, I am gaining independence.

 My home is not controlling me. 

I am letting things go. 

Leaning into the memories.
I haven't been taken out of the wasteland; it has not been removed.
I remain in the midst of turmoil and heartache.
The new thing will happen during this painful time.
It is through the journey. . . not when it's been removed that it will "spring up".

I seek the the quiet each day.

Trying to heal this hurting heart. 

So, here's to bag 9 and 10. 

I think one should worry if I get to a small Ziploc sandwich bag. 

How is your Lenten journey going?

Are you stepping into the journey on which God has you? 
What does it look like? 

Are You Able To Laugh At The Days To Come

Proverbs 31:25
Strength and dignity are her clothing,
    and she laughs at the time to come.

I want to laugh at the days to come. 

But I want to laugh at them with my boy.

I long for strength and dignity. 

I want my world tipped back on it's right side.
I long for depression to leave my farmer and the cancer to be gone.

Do you have trouble? 

Aging parents in need of care? 

A job issue out of your control? 

A situation that you can't fix, or change; and it consumes you?

You know you need to trust God; but it's so hard. 

It's your life. And everything hinges on these decisions. 

You know what I mean?
It's these times that we need to lean on something solid.
We want answers and help.
Truth. 
Nothing but truth.
I don't want anything that is convoluted or niceties.
My heart is raw.
It is only Truth I want.

Psalm 6 says, I am worn out from my groaning.

I am so worn. We are so worn. This has been and is a mighty battle. 

We need to remember who fights the battle. 

Ephesians 6;12

For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, 

against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world 

and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.

The Lord is in this battle. We need to wait on him.

He hears us. 

Psalm 40:1

 I waited patiently for the LORD; 

he turned to me and heard my cry.

Psalm 25:3

No one who hopes in you will ever be put to shame,

 but shame will come on those who are treacherous without cause.

Our hope is in the LORD.
He is Truth. He is strength.
He is where I will turn to for hope.

As I continue to find the quiet and hear God speak during Lent,
I am also unloading a bag a day of clutter.
I hope you have joined this journey in some way and are
 finding great peace.

De-Cluttering More Than Just My Home

I breathe in deep.
I think I have found a way to try and be quiet.
My house is a mess.

Well, cluttered really. 

 I have read every book and idea on de-cluttering (which now clutter my home);
none of the strategies seem to work.
 It is just plain hard.
My cousin sent me this link about a practice during Lent that she thought I might enjoy.
The practice of giving up of a bag "of stuff" a day for 40 days. 

I thought this is something I could give up; gladly. 

But it's so stressful.
 I am going to follow up the chore with the quiet time;

because this cleaning thing brings out the savage beast of a woman in me. 

Really. 

Since this is day 3 of the 40 day journey, we gathered 3 bags.
Yes, I am ashamed to say there are more than 3 bags worth of stuff in one room.
BUT! WE CAN SEE THE FLOOR!

So, I am committed to taking out a bag a day.
I hope as I go through this practice, I will remove more than just clutter.
I pray that as things get cleaned up, the burden and weight I carry would be lifted as well.
As my house is purged, I long for my soul to be purged of the pain and heartache.
I want to hand over to God all that clutters my mind.
All the things that keep from sweet communion with him.
So, as I  practice the art of being quiet, I will purge a bag a day.
Each step seeking the "what next?"
Seeking grace in each moment. 

Just for the record here is another link to a neat de-cluttering sight.

I Peter 1:5
Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.

In case you're in the purging mood. Here is a great song to move to.
I prefer Classical Music. 
My kids say that is why my house isn't clean.
I need songs like this to get moving.
Hope you move along too.