Even A Year Later My Grip Remains Strong

A year later we still are haying. The fire on to take the chill off the morning air. The desire of my heart to yield to the heavenly father. The pain still real, the missing still great. Longing to find our way in this world. Wanting to make a difference. Wanting hope to permeate all we do. Thoughts scratched out in the wee hours of the morning. Still ring true a year later. Yet, this is before cancer knocked on our door. It is before I knew what was to be. . .

It's Early Morning
9-20-13

I rise while it is still dark.

Coffee is made.

We are having pancakes for breakfast.

I have turned the fire on to take off the chill. 

Though it is much warmer than the previous nights. 

It was hard to get up this morning.

I prayed for a long time, seeking strength for what lies before me today. 

I prayed for Gary. 

These hours are so long. 

I prayed for the yield on this hay crop to be wildly abundant.

We are so short on feed. 

This picture was taken the last day Elijah and I worked together.

The day he told his dad, "Hey dad, you know the best way to slow down wrapping bales? Is to have your wife come to the barn." 

 I was trying to help. 

I can be a liability sometimes. 

But I am glad I went. 

All that time spent with my boy. . .

Little did I know there would only be 2 more days that he would reside on this earth. 

I had planned to write a blog post on how we put up our round bales. 

Now these pictures are all I have left of his final days here. 

But the memories. 

Oh how I treasure that day.

 We laughed. 

I was so slow.

We'd been having trouble with the round bale plastic - it keeps tearing. . .

So, Elijah would have to get off the tractor and come and pull it so I could tuck it back in and get started. 

I am a little short, so getting a good grip to pull that plastic was not happening on my watch. .. 

unless I went and got a stool. Which is the story of my life. 

Someone needs to add variety to these boys' lives. 

After each bale is wrapped, it is marked with the date. 

It was beautiful out that day. 

I was happy to be with my boys and I would take the time to write on the bales. .. 

more than just the date. 

This also slowed the process down.

Guys don't think like we woman. 

I wanted there to be a legacy on those bales. 

So when the deep of winter came and they pulled those bales out there would be a reminder of the glorious day in July when we all worked together. 

On each bale I left a legacy. 

One we now treasure with all our hearts. 

Our hay situation has been a challenge this year.

The rains came in abundance and flooded many of our fields. 

This left debris and silt scattered across acres of land, virtually making all the hay unusable; when or if we could get on to the soggy meadows. 

This happened repeatedly throughout the summer. 

So on July 25, 2013,

When the warmth of the sun permeated everything, 

I wrote those praises on bales.

I prayed over each bale.

Asking our father to somehow fix this feed situation. 

To give us wisdom if we should stay in farming. 

3 days later I still praised the same God 

with a broken heart as he called my boy home. 

It was a beautiful night last night. 

I don't know what our future is here. 

I don't know where the Lord is leading us. 

So much has changed. 

Yet, we will still praise him. 

Psalm 150

Praise the Lord!

Praise God in his sanctuary;

praise him in his mighty heavens!

 Praise him for his mighty deeds;

praise him according to his excellent greatness!

 Praise him with trumpet sound;

praise him with lute and harp!

 Praise him with stambourine and dance;

praise him with strings and pipe!

 Praise him with sounding cymbals;

praise him with loud clashing cymbals!

 Let everything that has breath praise the Lord!

Praise the Lord

And I am learning to say:  "It will be my joy,

your will, your way"

And I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt. . .there is NO life apart from you LORD. 

A Letter To God

So much of my daily journey takes me back to last year. How I felt. So much I do not remember. So much is still stuck vividly in my mind. This post echoes the cry of my heart. This week I have felt weary and worn. But we are holding on. Clinging to the rock that is higher than I. 

Dear God,
     I find myself in a deep place today. My first thoughts are usually to bring praise and Glory to your name. It is the habit established for more than 20 years now. My first thoughts when my eyes flutter open are to praise you. . .no matter how I feel. Today. . .I opened my eyes and pushed through the raw grief; the weight that threatens to engulf. I look for you. It is rainy and dark out. I know this day will be a struggle. I cry for this all to not be. I am weary and worn.

         There are so many holding us up and we are so grateful for that. But some days are just going to be hard. And I look to you God. And I remember your  promises.

  Matthew 11:28-30 

Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, 

and I will give you rest. "Take My yoke upon you, and learn from Me, 

for I am gentle and humble in heart; and you shall find rest for your souls. 

"For My yoke is easy, and My load is light."

     So, I am laying my burdens down. I give you all my tears and sorrows because this burden is too much to carry. . .the weight is crushing. You have laid me bare with the loss of my flesh and blood. The child from my womb. Yet, I know from the beginning of creation you had numbered his days. 

Psalm 139:16 

Your eyes saw my unformed body;

 all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.

    So take me LORD. Mold me into the vessel you need me to be. Smooth my rough edges. Help me to be more like you in all I do. I am tired and I am weary. My soul cries for your comfort. 

Isaiah 40:29

He gives strength to the weary, And to him who lacks might, He increases power.

I am worn. . .Let me know the struggle ends.  . .
that you can mend a heart that's frail and torn. 

You Can Still Press On

When your parents dog, father's sister (your god mother),  parents best friend and mother have all died within  10 days and the memory thief has knocked on your father's door. . . and he needs you to get through . . .  you can still press on.

When you beg God to take your mother because the ravages of cancer have left her lifeless and emaciated, he won't. . . .you can still press on.

You can sit in your yard and hold your daughter's beloved dog that has just been hit by a car and beg for him to live, and he won't.  He will die in your arms and you will not shed a tear. You can toss your cookies and go and be strong for your daughter. You will press on.

2 weeks later you can be awakened at 2 a.m. in your pajama's and stare at  police officers as they tell you there has been an accident. And your beloved red head didn't survive.

You will not shed a tear. You will press on. You figure out how to help your farmer because there is no power and the red head was supposed to help with milking. So you need to wake the blonde and tell him we need help and that his beloved older brother now sings with the Angels. In Jesus' name, you will press on.

You will climb those 16 steps to wake that beautiful daughter and tell her that losing her puppy is nothing to what you are about to share. You will press on.

I have learned that a Community has no boundaries, nationality or prejudices.

Grace given time and time again, unmerited; undeserved.

I will drive the newest car I have ever had. And each time I get into it I am grateful, angry and sad all at the same time. I will press on.

I have cried more tears than I thought possible when I am alone and when I am in church.  I have wailed. Deep,  guttural wails. . . I can't stop. The grief piercing.

There is a cat that visits me at the graveyard. It's not creepy. And he's not all black. He doesn't seem to mind my tears or my cries. He sits patiently; by my side.

I have learned when the doctor calls and says it's cancer you will shed no tears. You will find that grief and cancer can be lived through. You will press on.

I have learned that a walk to the cross and digging deep into the Ancient Word each day is the only way. My knees bent low; my heart surrendered. I can press on.

Front porch visits have turned into front porch prayers. There is a harvest of righteousness being poured out. We will press on.

We have lost fellowship with some friends. It is too much for them. I understand. Yet, I don't. We will still press on.

A marriage is built on trusting, giving, sacrificing, loving and prayer. Together, In Jesus' Name,  we
press on.

We will press on no matter what comes our way. We will lean into all that God has to give.

Each step, a choice made. 

We will live with our hands wide open to receive all He has to give. When life is hard and the road riddled with hurdle after hurdle, we can grow weary.

 It is through the power of the holy spirit that we gain our strength. It is in letting go that we receive. We will press on.

I pray that you take a moment to listen to this song. 

May it minister to you as it has to me. 

In Jesus' name . . . we will Press On. 

Thank you for liking our Davis Farm Face Book Page. Thank you for reading our blog. Thank you for praying for us. Make God guide our footsteps as this life continues on. Thank you you all for your support.

Alone; But Not Alone. . .Ever

I am alone. 

The house quiet. 

It is not a sound I am familiar with; or like. 

I wish I could take all those crazy moments when 2 diapers needed changing, lesson plans needed writing, dinner was cooking, and all 6 children were living. . .  and bottle them. 

Then pull them out now. 

When I feel defeated. 

I was created to be a mom. 

And I have loved the journey. 

I haven't done it well. 

My children never had a nursery. 

I never had the latest stroller or baby gear. 

I never read a parenting book until Chelsea was in college. 

I worked when my kids were born. 

I never went on a "playdate". 

Ever. 

For all the things I didn't do. 

I am sure there are lots I did do. 

We made a priority to go to church. 

Every Sunday. 

It wasn't easy. 

It's easier to stay home. 

There were days I wanted to. 

We chose to go. 

And when the rubber hit the road this year. 

I bent my knees low to the ground and thanked God for the years cultivating faith in our children. 

My son left me this gift. 

Faith, assurance he knew where he was headed. 

It was not wasted time. 

I drove home alone from New York after dropping two of the kids 

and two of their friends off at camp. 

I was alone. 

And when I walked in the house I was alone. 

The quiet eerie. 

My farmer haying. 

The two little girls spending the night with Tara. 

For a moment I could feel the sadness creep in. 

Alone.

While others may have cheered at this prospect, I did not. 

I love the energy of this home.

Life. 

But I realized in those moments that it is not the kids who define me. 

I am not alone. 

My worth is in Christ. 

He is my source of strength.

Psalm 118:14

The LORD is my strength and my defense; 

he has become my salvation.

 Looking anywhere else is futile. 

My joy does not come from the kids. 

It is a by product of the gift of the kids. 

My children are a gift from the Lord.

They are His. 

While I have breath on this earth I will do all I can to love and nurture them. 

Encourage them in their faith. 

Spur them on to make a difference, for Christ, in this world. 

I switch the laundry, start the dishwasher, wipe down the counters. 

A friend says to try and enjoy the moment. 

So I do. 

I head to bed to read. 

One of my favorite things to do. 

I begin with the Word; from which my sustenance comes. 

Then I move to my book. 

By then the exhaustion has settled in. 

And my farmer comes home. 

I am not alone. 

But I already knew that. 

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."

There Is Always Choice

The slide show plays. 

Each picture a memory of the week gone by. 

The gospel shared. 

Summer Bible Camp. 

Not Vacation Bible School anymore. 

Somehow "school" has a negative connotation. 

Kids in other countries look for sponsors and live to go to school. 

But here in America school brings negative thoughts. 

But that is another post. 

The slide show plays. 

I have not helped at all this week. 

There were so many pieces to the week, there was no way I could be there. 

I watch each picture. 

The sadness descends like an unwelcome visitor. 

Years of VBS. 

Weeks of time spent with kids flash through my mind.
Each year I feel exhausted heading into the week.. 

I have nothing left to give. But I do and I am blessed. 

God meets me in the midst of the chaos each time. 

Loading 5 kids in the car and getting there on time; such a struggle.
So worth the time.
And now another year has finished.
The slide show ends.
I sit.
These are the hard times. 
The memories are relentless.
The life of your child before you.
The course of events not the ones you choose.
And it's the choice. 
You can sit down and let it all consume you.
Or you can step into the path God has ordained for you.
It's a choice. 
The path before you.
You can listen to all the voices of this world.
You can buy into all the lies that will try to bring you joy.
Or you can rise up in the strength of the Lord.
Shake off all that binds you.
Seek the joy that is offered.
There is forgiveness.
Each day I choose.
I wake up.
The reminder that Elijah is gone slams me time and time again.
But I stop.
I rejoice in the day that the Lord has made.
There is a purpose.
I quiet the voices that try to tell me otherwise.
We are the hands and feet of Christ.
There is work to be done.
We each were created.
By the Master.
Fiercely loved.
Bought with a price.
Elijah's death points to Christ.
There is a purpose.
There is a choice. 
We are to be changed as Elijah was changed in a moment.
In an instant.
We can love more.
We can stand for truth.
Seek holiness.
Make a difference in this world.
One day soon, we will all be reunited.

2 Timothy 1:7
For the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, 
love and self-discipline.

Living Fully

Another perfect summer day. 

The wind blows. 

The sun is shining.

No humidity.
Shows and a wedding.

These are days that the living flows.

Days that take little effort. 

The ease with which to work. 

It's easy to find hope on these days. 

Yet my heart still holds back.  

 Each day healing. 

Each moment filled with grace. 

But just under the surface the pain and the missing reside. 

Forever changed; yet today needing to be lived through.

Psalm 118:24
This is the day the LORD has made. 
We will rejoice and be glad in it.


Gratitude changes the heart.
The rhythm of one's step united with God's Holy purposes.


Grateful For:

A full weekend of dance, family, weddings and pictures.
Remembering
4 days of sunshine and warmth
Hay for winter's wrath
Blue skies and fluffy clouds
Lessons learned in the midst of pain
Deep joy given by our heavenly father
The assurance of the things to come
Community
Friendships and dance directors
Visions and dreams being fulfilled on stage
Cool evenings
A messy house that has been so full this weekend
Coffee. Coffee beans. Ground coffee. Coffee.
A heart that is held

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.

Do You Long For That Deep Soul Peace? Yeah. . . Me Too.

There was a mix up with appointments.

I needed to talk with one of the nurses.

We play phone tag over 2 days.
I seek peace 

We finally connect. 

We work out the appointment details.  

While I have you on the phone I say;

Are you able to give me the results of the scans? 

He says he can. 
We don't have to wait 3 more days for the results.
A mistake; used to give us answers.

I don't even know what to pray. 

I hold my breath.

But I think I have been holding it for months. 

He says the chest is clear.

Then there is a pause. 

My head spins and the bottom drops out of my stomach.
I brace myself.
A peace descends. No matter what.
God will see us through.  

He starts to read. 

Head and neck clear, typical radiation residue.
I exhale. 

He says he is glad to give us some good news.

He a believer. 

He who prayed with us when my farmer was first diagnosed.

He now tells us the scans are clear. 

I tell my farmer. 

And I start to cry.
The scans are clear. 

I can't stop. 

I start to shake. 

It is unbelievable. 

There is light at the end of the tunnel. 

The cancer is gone.
My farmer smiles.
He puts his head in his hands. He just wants to lay down.
He's so tired. 
The joy thief strong today.

I try to make myself feel joy.
It's not there. Not yet.
It's coming.
I know.
But right now;
I feel like a spring that was just sprung.
I am tired. I am worn.
This has been a battle.
I have fought with everything I have.
God has equipped us with all we need.
For it is only in my weakness that I am strong.
It is His power manifested in us.

Exodus 14:14
The LORD will fight for you; you need only to be still."


I am bone weary.
The relief we get is from the strength found in the Lord.
It is breathing deep.

5-26-13

It is seeking the quiet and perfecting the listening.
It is the hope.
Hope that there is a future.
Hope that this winter laden earth will yield to Spring time again.

Matthew 11:28
Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, 
and I will give you rest.


Rest is promised to us.
As I seek the quiet.
That which is hard for me.
As I lean into the grace offered. 
I am restored.
My soul is at peace. 

The war wages on.
But there is a calm.

What do you do when you're bone weary? 
When putting one foot in front of the other is your goal for the day. 
What do you do?

A Primrose And Rain

A primrose. 

I bought it the other day. 

Something about the "living" yellow flower drew me. 

Because this is my reality at the end of March.

I don't know how long I will be able to keep it alive. 

I water it and move it from sunbeam to sunbeam; when there is one. 

Today though, there is only the sound of drip, drip. 

The sound should fill me with glee!

It has warmed up enough to rain. 

Instead I am filled with dread. 

The basement will flood. 

What is it like at the barn?

What will the river do? 

This. will. not. be. good. for. the. manure. pit. at. all. 

But it's warmer.

And no matter what happens we will deal with it. 

We always do. 

It is the farming way. 

There is always hope. 

I'll keep looking at my primrose, while it survives. 

I probably should have let someone else buy it. 

I will listen to the drip, drip and think of the days reading 

"Thundercake" to the kids on the porch swing. 

I will head to Worship this morning.

I will place all my worries and cares in the hands of the One who has the plans set before us. 

He will equip us with all we need to walk through this journey. 

Really, He will. 

Do you believe it? 

He is able to meet all our needs. 

Maybe not in the way we expected. 

But He will. 

Philippians 4:19

And my God will meet all your needs according 

to the riches of his glory in Christ Jesus.