Even In Our Darkest Moments We Still Carried Hope

A kid jumps off a bridge.

A woman commits suicide; a teacher, wife, mother.

Another student in my hometown takes his life. 

And I can't make sense of this world. 

Why one who wanted to live is gone and these that don't want to live take their own life. 

It all swims around in my head and my heart feels like it wants to burst. 

I can't imagine what it must feel like to have no hope; to not want to live. 

Because even in my darkest moments, 

when the grief was overbearing and the pieces of my shattered heart were scattered everywhere as my son left this earth and the memory thief knocked profusely on my dads door and cancer waltzed into our daily conversations and the joy thief set up residence, 

we still carried hope. 

There was still the torch of the One who called our names and 

breathed the holy breath into our beings. 

There was still a corner to turn. 

Light, illuminating the dark path. 

Always a step ahead even in the deepest dark.

The cross. 

The work done on our behalf. 

To live without hope is beyond my understanding. 

Yet. I get it. 

I get how life can be crushing. 

How the weight can make you dig deep and leave you paralyzed. 

How putting one foot in front of the other requires every ounce of your being. 

Your entire focus. 

We have not been promised an easy life. 

God has said we would have trials. 

James 1:1-2

Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds,because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance.

He also showed us how we should live in the face of the trials. 

They will come. 

And we will learn from them.

God will be there. 

He will hold us and carry us.

 Even through the darkest of nights. 

For those that are depressed though, they can not see that.

 It takes intense modern medicine and intervention. 

Even the strongest believer, who lives on hope and serves with their hands and feet,

 is not immune to the ravages of the joy thief. 

So, on this day when the struggles of this world threaten to pull me under, 

when my heart breaks with missing my child and knowing the hurt for some is so great they will end their life on earth,

 I have to release it all at the foot of the cross. 

I need to leave it there. 

Because the pressing in is too much. 

I lift my eye to the heavens. 

To the babe, born in a manager, so we might live. 

The incarnate; God with us. 

Immanuel. 

The answer. 

The only hope. 

I look out my window and the landscape is being transformed 

as white fluffy flakes descend from the sky. 

A covering over the barrenness of the land. 

We have been bought, with a price. 

The cross a symbol of great hope. 

Hope for all nations and all people. 

Hope exists. 

It is in the surrender to the Holy, the letting go; that we are given life abundantly. 

Michael Card

Immanuel

The Glory of the Nations

A light for all to see 

And hope for all who will embrace His warm reality

I'm Celebrating Mother's Day Today

Sunday was Mother's Day. I spent the day reeling from the loss of our son.
Being mom to less.
A forever change.
Wrestling with moving on and wanting to be stuck.
In the back of my mind haunting me was my mom.
But I couldn't even think about her.
There are some places that are too tender to venture.
Your heart just can't take it.
So you push it aside and deal with the grief in front of you.
I am not speaking of stuffing or ignoring.
It's like that delicious book you want to finish.
You wait until the quiet, when you can savor the characters and the ending of such a terrific journey.
It's like that with grieving; though it's not enjoyment.
It is taking it piece by piece.
Slowly allowing the the pain to move through your being.
So these days after Mother's Day.
I look at pictures.
I allow myself to think of my mom.
For just a few moments. 
I think about her strength.
About her suffering at the end of her life.
She was so courageous.
So strong.
I know God allowed me to see that; to endure her painful death.
He knew what was coming down the road for me. 
He was beginning my strengthening exercises.
Molding my being. 
Driving me daily to my knees via the cross.
I have reworked an earlier post on mom. 
I dedicate this to a woman who was not perfect.
Who loved life to the fullest.
Who endured cancer and the end of her life with so much grace and dignity.
Who loved and served God with every breath she had even unto her death.
I miss her with all my being.
I have longed for her many days when my I thought my heart would explode
 from the devastating loss of our son.
I am grateful to her for showing me  faith.
For showing me how to live while she was dying.
Her days were filled with music, even when deaths clutches grasped.

Because He Lives. 

I can hear her singing now. 

I can face tomorrow, Because He lives, All fear is gone. 

I know the words by heart. 

She often sang it as cancer's clutches tightened their grip.  

Because I know who holds the future, 

And life is worth the living 

Just because He lives. 

My mom loved music.

She loved all kinds of music. 

I grew up listening to albums of the Beach Boys, Rhapsody in Blue, 

The Kingston Trio and even the Smothers Brothers. 

There was always music coming from that stereo in the hall. 

I can still hear the sound the albums would make, especially at Christmas, when the album would change. 

Even now listening to songs evoke a memory.

Because He lives. . . I can face tomorrow. 

I can't do this on my own. 

There is nothing left to give. 

I am broken and spilled out. 

And for the moment, I close my eyes; I hear the beautiful words. 

Because I know who holds the future. . .

I do know who holds the future.

I know without a shadow of a doubt, that God is right there.

 Though I can't see Him.  

And though things around me are falling apart.

I know He is right there. 

And you know what? He's going to make it all beautiful.

2 Corinthians 4:7

But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this 

all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.

 Really He will. 

He is going to take this broken situation. He is going to take all this pain and heartache. 

And He is going to make something beautiful.

 Because that is what He does. 

He is the God who restores. He is the God who heals. 

He is mighty and merciful. 

And He's coming back. 

And when He does. You're not going to want to miss it. 

And then one day, I'll cross the river

I'll fight life's final war with pain

And then as death gives way to victory

I'll see the lights of glory

And I'll know He lives. 

Won't you take a few moments and listen to this song. 

I promise if you're quiet. Really quiet.
You will hear my mom singing this song with all her might.
(while she's cleaning something. . .because that's how she rolled.)

I pray that all your fear will be gone. And that you will know He lives. 

That you can surrender all that hurts and causes you pain. 

That for a moment you can find the peace that comes, 

when you know who holds your future. 

We can face uncertain days. 

Yes we can.

What Does It Look Like To Praise God In The Midst Of The Storm?

Psalm 92

It is good to praise the Lord
    and make music to your name, O Most High,
 proclaiming your love in the morning
    and your faithfulness at night,

Don't you know it is good to praise the Lord?

It is the cry of my heart. 

When troubles come and the darkness settles.  It is hard to give thanks and praise.
When the bills pile high and the day gets crazy.
It is hard to praise.
When your son is killed and you watch your children grieve, it is hard to give thanks and praise.

Yet God continually encourages us to Praise Him through it all.

My farmer wants to feel positive about things.

Everything he looks at is broken or needs repair.
There's nothing he enjoys.
It is a battle. 
We try to find something good.
It is work.
Now with another hard loss.
Someone serving our family. 
Called home.
It seems too much to bear. 
So we go to what we know.  
We try to find the blessing.
Even equipment break downs can be positive;
It could have been worse.
Sometimes it is so hard to see the good.
Farming is unpredictable.
It is a life lived on the edge.
Usually invigorating.
No day like another.
But when you're world is turned upside down.
Putting it to rights takes effort.
Effort that doesn't come easy these days.


Do you struggle with your days? Has the joy escaped you?
Is it work to find the good?

We can start small. Like I did the day Elijah traveled home.
I got in the shower and I thanked God for the shower handles, the shampoo, hot water etc.
It was a step. 
A way to Praise.  A way to keep moving forward.
And that's what we need to do.
We are still here.
God has not called us to himself yet.
He is allowing all these other pieces to happen.
We need to wait with expectancy for what He will do.
Because aren't all our days lived on the edge? 
Find that space where you can be still.
Where God can breathe new life into you;
life abundant so you can pour into others.
Look for opportunities to serve.
Invite God to show up; to guide you where there is a need.
We are kept.
He will fill the void.
Hope.
He will restore the joy.
In His timing.
In His way.

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.

"We're asking why this happens to us who have died to live.
It's unfair.
This is what it means to be held
How it feels
When the sacred is torn from life and you survive.
This is what it means to be loved and to know
That the promise was that when everything fell
we'd be held. "

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

Where Do You Go When You Can't Leave?

The wind howls.

It's vet check.

Robinson's come to fill the tenant house with fuel.. 

This winter won't quit.

Separating cows to be dried off seems like such an ominous task
when the wind steals your breath and your fingers feel numb. . . at the end of March. 

How do you maintain any kind of a positive attitude when the
sun doesn't shine and the icy gusts chill to the bone?

Many leave. 

They leave Vermont for warmer weather. 

They head out on vacation. 

If our hired help situation was different, we too would join the throngs
 headed to a tropical paradise. 

My farmer can't get warm.

Deep loss, chemo, radiation  and depression leave him cold;  

defenseless against the bitter winter. 

What is the remedy? 

Last week I turned up the volume and listened to Christmas music. 

I celebrated Advent right in the center of Lent. 

Today, I reach deeper. 

Winter's clutches won't let go.

The talons of depression are tightly attached to my farmer. 

Snow, ice and everything frozen keep important work from being done.
And the door to discouragement, for me, is ajar.
I fight with all I have.
I cling to what I know.

Psalm 62: 5-6
Yes, my soul, find rest in God;
    my hope comes from him.
He alone is my rock and my salvation,
 my fortress where I will not be shaken

It is in finding the quiet.
  Rest in the Lord.
The Lessons in Lent I seek. 
If I choose to wallow and name all that is wrong, I descend into the pit.
But when I count a Thousand Gifts; I name that for which I am thankful.
Something happens. 
God meets me there; in my brokenness and pain.
He goes before me, I am not alone. (Building 429)
He lifts me out of the pit and sets my feet on firm ground.

Psalm 40:2
He lifted me out of the pit of despair, out of the mud and the mire. 
He set my feet on solid ground and steadied me as I walked along.

The well worn path is there.  I remain on that path. 

I sing a childhood song.

Count your blessings, name them one by one. 

Count your blessings see what God has done.

My feet are planted; I will stand. 

Whatever may come our way. 

We won't be shaken!

Why Do We Hold Our Burdens Tight?

We celebrate my farmer's birthday.
The first without Elijah.
It is so hard and feels so wrong.
We leave the farm.
We head to meet Chelsea, Adam and Lilah.
We spend time together in a mall.
I watch my farmer.  

What makes my farmer so depressed?

Why won't the medicine take effect? 

It there something metabolically wrong?

Something like electrolytes; a quick fix.

We go to the doctors. She looks at us.
My farmers blood work is good. 

His body is doing what it should. 
She tells us what we already know; but forget.

We've been through a lot. 

Grieving is hard work. 

Fighting cancer is hard work. 

But both is beyond. 

I breathe deep as she reminds us that losing Elijah is tough stuff. 

The grieving takes energy.

She shares a bit of her story. 

And I am reminded again, of how we need each other. 

If you have a story to tell.

Share it. 

Why do we hold our burdens tight?

Talk to the Lord. 

Share it with a friend.

Pray with that friend. 

There is no load too heavy for God. 

He is able to handle all our emotions, all our hurts.
I don't know why this depression lingers.
So we will continue to stand on solid ground.
We will bend our knees in prayer and lift our hands in praise.
I will seek the quiet. Listen. Wait for the answers.
And unload a bag a day.

There is an Old Hymn,

Ok, all Hymns are old.
None the less they are timeless.  
I love this Hymn.

 I remember going to Hymn Sings with my Grandfather and
I would wait for someone to request this song.

What a friend we have in Jesus, all our sins and grief to bear.
What a privilege to carry, everything to God in prayer

These words have held me through some of the darkest nights;
through the pain and anguish.
The night Elijah met Jesus, after the police left; after Gary had gone to the barn;
and I was left alone, it was too early to call anyone,
 so I rocked back and forth and the words to this hymn ran through my head.
What A Friend We Have In Jesus. 

So we celebrate Gary's birthday.
We light Elijah's candle and Gary blows his out.
We remember.
We share.
We celebrate.

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. . .

Falling In Love With My Farmer

About 23 years ago I fell in love with my farmer. His banjo playing, quiet ways, love for God and deep voice, was enough to make this city girl take a look at all she had thought would make her soul sing.The glitz and glam, nice cars, dinners out, fancy diamond studded jewelry (just kidding -but my birthstone is a diamond -lucky me) soon faded to what was real and what really mattered in

this world. A look deep into God's word and the Truth that rests there is what makes a girl really want to take notice. Wedding bells gave way to the rhythm of farming and teaching. The loss of our first child cemented our love and brought us to the edge of trusting. As each child was born, dating became creative and hospital visits were treasured memories. Time together was precious and took on a different meaning. Graduation and college with Chelsea and the change in the family structure further drew us together as I struggled to watch her go. We settled into a routine, often putting the kids needs before our own.When God allowed the unimaginable to happen we clung to the promises we knew. We stepped out on solid ground into grace. As we stood at the grave of our son, I held my farmers hand. That ginormous, rock solid hand. The hand that has loved me and loved our children. The hand that has milked cows, brought sustenance and life to the farm. We held hands that day and everyday since. We held hands when "in sickness" took on a different meaning. He looked into my eyes and I knew the diagnosis was cancer. We held hands and we knew even though it was 3 months into grieving our son; we would step out onto solid ground into grace.

And so we have treasured our vows, to have and hold. 

 And as depression threatens to steal his joy 

and I reel with the enormity of all that needs to be done.

 I hold his hand.

 I step onto solid ground and into grace. 

Psalm 26:12

My feet stand on level ground; in the great congregation I will praise the LORD.

This is one of the songs my farmer played that my heart surrendered and knew true earthly love.

I love this arrangement. 

When The Snow Piles High And The Drifts Impassable

Pushing through the dark. 

Looking for the light. 

Holding tight the truth. 

Letting go the fear. 

Wondering how this new life works. 

Digging deep for strength.

Resting in the One.
Reaching for Hope.

This journey continues to stretch me to the fullest.
Each day, I seek to rest not in the what if's, but in the what I knows.
When all is shaking around me, there is a calm.
An assurance so sweet.

The snow piles high and the drifts impassable.
The wind howls.
But yet the farmer presses on.
The cows are milked.
The rhythm of the day continues.
It is that rhythm that misses a beat; all so wrong.
But still we press on.

We bow our head in humble submission.
We bend under the weight.
But we will not break.

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

Today I push the memories aside and linger at the cross.
I wait with expectancy of what will come.
I lean into the pain.
I embrace the journey.

On Christ the Solid Rock I Stand. 
All other ground is sinking sand. 
I pray you can take the time to listen to the words of this song.
Because in my world there is no other place to stand.
And I long for the day when He shall come with trumpet sound
Oh may I then in Him be found.
dressed in His Righteousness alone
Faultless to stand before the throne

Chin Up, Shoulders Straight. . .Advice From My Dad

Chin up

Shoulders straight

 Fly right

My father's advice through the years. 

There were many other colorful pieces of advice he would share that I won't mention here. 

But these. These have stayed with me. 

I don't know where he got this. 

His father died when he was 12. So I am not thinking it was fatherly wisdom. 

My dad is a man of few words. 

(not always appropriate either, insert wink)

Now he is a man who has the memory thief as a constant companion. 

But he spoke these words to me often enough that they have stuck. 

This morning when I was feeling a bit of a pity party coming on; 

when I started down a path that should not be travelled.

 I remembered these words. 

They weren't the comforting Ancient words. 

Or the words of an accomplished theologian. 

They were the words spoken to me, by my father, growing up. 

They were words that show strength in their actions. 

So instead of a pity party. 

Instead of  falling apart like I wanted to;

I put my chin up. 

I pulled those shoulders straight. 

(I am short so anything will help)

And I flew. . . yes, straight to God's word. 

Straight to those Ancient words. 

Because the earthly words reminded me of the eternal words. 

No matter how I try to find any thing else to fill the void, remove the hurt or bring me comfort. 

It is only God's word that brings the peace. 

It is the Holy Spirit falling fresh, over me. 

In the quiet. In the moments of listening. 

While we miss Elijah. 

While we wait for tests and results. While we live through this depression. 

I will listen to my earthly dad's mantra and run to my heavenly Father's arms.

Chin up

Shoulders straight

Fly right. . . into your heavenly Father's arms.

Thanks Dad. 

I know you can't be of much help now. 

But your words of years gone by are pushing me forward. 

You are, and will always be my greatest hero. 

Oh, how I wish we could have closed the door to the memory thief. 

Joshua 1:9

Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. 

Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged,

 for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go."

These Words, To Live By

Because He Lives. . 

I can hear her singing now. 

I can face tomorrow, Because He lives, All fear is gone. 

I know the words by heart. 

She often sang it as cancer's clutches tightened their grip.  

Because I know who holds the future, 

And life is worth the living 

Just because He lives. 

My mom loved music.

She loved all kinds of music. 

I grew up listening to albums of the Beach Boys, Rhapsody in Blue, 

The Kingston Trio and even the Smothers Brothers. 

There was always music coming from that stereo in the hall. 

I can still hear the sound the albums would make, especially at Christmas, when the album would change. 

Even now listening to songs evoke a memory. 

And today when Gary's depression has hit a low; as the sun sank lower in the sky and the pinkish hue caught me off guard; as the uncertainty of these days threaten to overwhelm; these words come to me. 

Because He lives. . . I can face tomorrow. 

I can't do this on my own. 

There is nothing left to give. 

I am broken and spilled out. 

I am grieving. I am trying to run a business. I am trying to be strong for these children in my nest. 

And for the moment, I close my eyes; I hear the beautiful words. 

Because I know who holds the future. . .

I do know who holds the future.

I know without a shadow of a doubt, that God is right there.

 Though I can't see Him.  

And though things around me are falling apart.

I know He is right there. 

And you know what? He's going to make it all beautiful.

2 Corinthians 4:7

But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this 

all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.

 Really He will. 

He is going to take this broken situation. He is going to take all this pain and heartache. 

And He is going to make something beautiful.

 Because that is what He does. 

He is the God who restores. He is the God who heals. 

He is mighty and merciful. 

And He's coming back. 

And when He does. You're not going to want to miss it. 

And then one day, I'll cross the river

I'll fight life's final war with pain

And then as death gives way to victory

I'll see the lights of glory

And I'll know He lives. 

Won't you take a few moments and listen to this song. 

I pray that all your fear will be gone. And that you will know He lives. 

That you can surrender all that hurts and causes you pain. 

That for a moment you can find the peace that comes, 

when you know who holds your future. 

When Yesterday Is 7 Months Gone

Dear Elijah,
It's been more than half a year since your feet have walked this earth; since time stood still and my heart broke in two. I can't believe that much time has passed. It feels like yesterday. 7 months of not my will, but thine. 7 months of learning to live a path I didn't ask for; death, cancer, treatments, grace.  We all miss you a ton. Each day dawns with thoughts of you and remembering you're not with us. We all feel so incomplete

without you here. It's hard to figure out how to do this walk. I miss your smile and the sound of your voice. I miss being your mom. I miss feeling whole. I am tired of my heart hurting.

Since you've been gone, daddy was diagnosed with cancer and has undergone radiation and chemotherapy. He has been amazing and tolerated all the treatments well. He is exhausted now and dealing with depression.  Everywhere he looks are projects that the two of you were working on and are unfinished. Missing you adds to his heartache. We are blessed to live in an age where help is available. We're loving on him and trying to get as much help as we can here for him.

This has also been 7 months of resting in who God is and how He orders our days. Because honestly Elijah, this walk without you here is really tough. Everywhere we look there are reminders of you. Reminders that your life here was incomplete; in our eyes. We long for you to be with us at the dinner table and everywhere. You were still living your life when you left us. And that is hard to live with.

You'd be proud of your siblings. This journey has been so hard with you gone and the uncertainty of daddy's illness. While it hasn't been perfect, everyone has really rallied to help. We have moments where everyone is cranky and out of sorts, and take their anger out on someone else. But really they have all been so intentional about trying to work out this tough walk.

I long for you to be here. But that is not the plan. I will keep stepping forward. Learning each day what it means to be in surrender to the God who called order out of chaos. We will continue to move away from "why" to "What is God's will and what does He want us to do next." We will talk about you and laugh. We

will lean into the remembering and not forget. I think that is part of the nightmare when you lose a child. You don't want to forget. Not for one minute. But how could we forget you. You were unforgettable. You were respected and loved. You lit up a room with your presence and loved to perfect your arguing skills.You loved the Lord, and didn't quite understand all that that meant. (Do any of us really completely understand?) But you wrestled and dug deeper and by faith walked.  An example for all of us. While I long for you to be here. I know you are in a better place. Your journey is complete and your work finished. I don't like this part and I never will. . . ever. But I will carry on with the journey God has for us here.

We will step forward in grace each day.

We do long for the day when we will be reunited. 

We long for the time when;

Revelation 21:4

He will wipe every tear from their eyes. 

There will be no more death' or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away."

All Clutter Is Not Equal

My brother and his wife are coming for a visit. Now I have known they were coming. 

But it's not until the last minute that I decide to clean and make a plan. 

We are celebrating Christmas. 

I still haven't wrapped the presents. 

It's almost March. 

 I have wrapped some; but the rest still lie buried under piles of stuff in my room. 

What makes us all so different? 

How do some have such ordered and clean homes? 

Everything is fixed and nice and neat. 

Everything in its place. 

( My college room mate Carol, would continually encourage me with those words)

This is not a new issue for me. 

It's years of trying to decide where is that place supposed to be? 

I can cook for 50 people without batting an eyelash. 

I love people stopping over spontaneously for a visit. 

But I can't get the laundry done or keep the piles from accumulating. 

I have done FLY lady, keep it simple, declutter your home in however many days. 

I have hired someone to clean my house hoping the gift of them coming would help with the clutter. 

But it doesn't. 

The clutter continues and consumes; if I let it. 

Sometimes I think we let too much clutter our minds.  I become obsessed with getting the house clean. 

Honestly, I become a raving lunatic. 

I harp on the kids to pick up and vacuum and the rant list goes on and on. 

(you can ask my kids, they will not hold back. They love to talk about me)

Now maybe I should have done that before. 

But what were the options? 

What would have been the sacrifice choice for the cleaner house? 

 Would I  have them  miss playing outside in the snow with their friends? 

Should they give up their barn chores? 

Would I give up the last few conversations with Elijah because the vacuum cleaner was more important? 

 We sat and read an extra chapter in our read aloud book; should cleaning have been a better choice? 

These are things I ponder. 

I know I can do things better. 

There is always a better way. 

But at what cost?

The clutter in my house should not reflect clutter in my heart. 

And you know what? It doesn't. 

My heart is at peace. 

My soul aches and is desperately needy. 

But there is room for the Holy Spirit to be there. 

I am open to God's leading. 

I breathe in His presence in my life. 

There is not an absence of pain or heartache. 

There is not an absence of trouble. 

But there is peace. There is hope. 

Psalm 62:5

 Find rest, O my soul, in God alone; my hope comes from him.

There is room for God to step into the chaos and create order. 

This is also a season. 

How I long for my house to be clean and ordered. I long for rooms without clutter.

So while it's not perfect; there it is. 

What I long for more though; is a farmhouse with it's doors flung wide open. 

It's not perfect. But it's real. 

We're finding our way in the imperfection to seek Jesus here. 

In the grit and grime. In the middle of the laundry piles and other pressing needs. 

Come visit.

 Step over the clutter, find the way to the table. 

There will be hot coffee.

 I am sure a baked good, because people have not left our side on this journey. 

And there will always be time. 

Time to stop and sit at the farm house table, where we will meet with Jesus and the clutter won't matter. 

Where what's on our hearts will be laid bare before the Father and we will seek his guidance. 

Where we will sit with God's word open and search for truth and direction and how to love as He first loved us. 

Isn't that what we want? 

Isn't that how it should be? 

I didn't say I was giving up Pinterest, or the desire for a cleaner house.

I will just keep plugging away, while keeping the clutter out of my heart as the first priority. 

Psalm 51:10

Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me.