Come With Me

Come with me. 

Deep into my grief. 

Into the place that aches.

 Come see where the rough appears.

 Feel the loss. It is dark and loud. . .anguish, screams. 

The pain is hot and searing. . .

The child I birthed lies in the sod. 17 years too short. 

 I can hear the faint echo of the cadence, yet he doesn't march. . .

dreams are stilled. . .the life abruptly ended.

But do you see?

 Comfort being poured out? 

The hope that rises. 

Taste and see the quietness of the One who called that life into being. 

Who gives breath to all. 

He quiets the screams. . .he smooths the rough edges. 

He reaches into the ache

He spreads immense light.

He is the Light.
               -Tammy Lynne Davis
On the death of our beloved son
1995-2013

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There is hope and there is light.
Even in the midst of deep pain.
I still find it so hard to believe.
How in a moment your whole world is tipped-and nothing will ever be the same.
There is a part of you that has to close the door, or deep torment threatens to overcome.

Elijah wasn't perfect. He made mistakes and poor choices.
He drove us crazy.
Yet he was loved by us. . .and he knew it.
But more importantly he was loved by His Savior.
And in his his Senior Testimony he talks about that love.
Elijah is gone.
His work on this earth finished.
Gary said this morning that he has truly graduated.
How this pains us. . .yet also brings joy.
I will never have to worry about him coming home. . . or what scars he would incur as a
United States Marine. He is safe and he is wrapped in love.
I will also never know what his future might have been. Red haired grand children?
Full of temper and smarts as his dad. . .this is not for us.

But we are still here and our God is great and his name is above all names.
And I long for the day when all nations will come together. . .
In the link below it brings me hope to see so many different nationalities
 all singing to the One true God.
The God that you do nothing. . . to receive. He freely gives.

And as we continue to mourn the loss of Elijah we will continue to say,
How Great is our God. . .click on the link and sing with me. . .
Worship leaders from various nations gather together

How a Farm Grieves

Oh how the earth of this farm longs for the boy to walk in its cool grass.

To gaze upon its meadows.

There is a silence

A stillness.

One that aches if left too long

The river cries for her boy. 

Wading and exploring have ceased.

How the woods echo with the laughter of years of exploration, created towns and air soft wars. 

How does a farm grieve the loss of a beloved son?

There is a hush over the barn where the boy and friends once hung from rafters, played hide and seek in the bales and searched for newborn kittens.

Gone are the wee morning hour walks with Father and son under the stars as the cows are gathered for milking
How the farmer grieves.
How he longs for those quiet mornings spent with his son.

Conversations grown to an abrubt halt.
Fencing projects left unfinished. . .a constant reminder of what has been lost.

The mountain meadow longs for the attention of that young boy.
The dreams of a log cabin and of family.
Now all ceased.

And is this not how our heavenly father waits in earnest for us to repent and to come to him?
Does he not long to hear us call out our need for him?
As the sod of this farm cries out for it's boy;
So does our heavenly father long for all to come to him. To lay down their burdens and be filled.

John 4:19
We love because he first loved us.

The Living Day to Day

The sun is shining.

Its streaks illuminate my space. 

Shadows dance as the breeze plays with the leaves.

It is almost 90 degrees out today. 

Unseasonably warm.

I wait to feel the warmth. 

My soul longs for relief from this grief.

I run to the LORD.

A repeat of yesterday is not part of the plan. 

The site where Elijah met Jesus is littered with flowers long gone by.

 The area needs to be cleaned.
I don't want to.
It reminds me that time is moving on.
I wait to do this task.
When I finally do, I am met with the sweetest of  grace.
 A friend, that I do not see except in decades,who too knows the searing loss of a child, stops.
She comes and quietly helps.
Another friend stops.
We 3 pray standing there at the pole.
I have not done this.
This simple act.
It soothes my soul to stand there and I feel God's presence.
I don't know why he called Elijah home.
I miss him.
Oh, how I miss him.

This is the sunrise in the wee hours after Elijah had gone home. . .
I never saw the heart in the sky. Someone had to point it out.
But it's there.
Heaven was rejoicing as my spirit was groaning.
And there was an earthly display in the skies. . .

My trust in God's plan is greater than anything else.
And I will feel the heat of this day,
I will sing praises. I will step forward.

Matthew 11:28
"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.

And I can cry with hope and can say goodbye with hope.

Dear God,

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. 

What you are Unprepared For

What do you do with the book you find;

given to Elijah from Nana on the event of Clarissa's birth?
For a moment your heart skips. . .and you are brought back to that day.
You can hear the sounds.
You can hear your moms voice.
You can see your sons excitement over a present.
He loved books.
Now they both call heaven their home.
Only 7 months apart.
And the ache is deep.
I am still mourning my mom. . .
And now I grieve the loss of our son. . .

Today was a tough day.
I miss my boy.
Yet it was beautiful out.
And I went for a walk.
 And I met a friend on her way home from work and she stopped. She understood.
 She gave me a hug and went on her way.
Sometimes all we need is a hug and a word of reassurance.
My journey needs to continue.
God left me here.
He didn't call me home.
My work is not done.

Ephesians 2:10
For we are God's handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, 
which God prepared in advance for us to do.

I find myself drawn to Elijah's grave.

I don't know why.

He's not there. 

But it is quiet. 

And I read my bible.

I read in I Chronicles about David having the Levites bring the ark back. David inquired of the LORD how it was to be done.
 I am asking the LORD, how does this grieving happen?

How do we do this?

I Chronicles 16:10, says, 

" Glory in his holy name; let the hearts of those who seek the LORD rejoice. Look to the LORD and his strength; seek his face always. Remember the wonders he has done, his miracles and the judgments he pronounced. 

Matthew 5:4
Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.

Ecclesiastes 3:1 - 4
There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the sun: a time to be born and a tine to die. . .a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance. 

I know I need to trust with all my heart. 

I need to be open to God's healing. And I need to remain in his word. 

I will continue to do these things.
"Whatever may pass and whatever lies before me,
( 3 beats Elijah played. . .and I long to hear)
let me be singing when the evening comes."

LORD, I want to be singing when the evening comes.
I want to see all your goodness.
And I long to serve you with  all I am.

Psalm 90:4
For a thousand years in your sight are like a day that has just gone by, 
or like a watch in the night. 

The Farmers Son

 I began this post on June 18, 2013.

3 days after our oldest son had graduated from High School. 

I didn't finish it because I wanted to take pictures of my farmers hands. 

The Father and the Son. . .

I was going to post it on Elijah's birthday;

the day he left for the United States Marine Corp.

Instead, I read it at his funeral. 

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I used to hold his hand while he was asleep. His hands, though small, were strong and beautiful. And they mesmerized me. This red headed child who saw the world through a different lens.

His hands would one day grow to be like his father's I was sure.

His daddy's hands are big and strong. Yet gentle and loving. 

Hands in this family are memorable. 

They are the hands of generations of farmers.

 Grown thick and calloused from outdoor use. Yet gentle enough to cradle new born babies, coax an unwilling calf to drink and wrap around his wife at the end of a long day.

 Daddy's Hands was sung at Gary's father's funeral.
Hands are memorable.

And the son, grew into a man.

It seems over night.

His hands grew too. Big and strong like his father. Though not so steady and gentle yet. The red hair permeates his thoughts still and he can be harsh and brazen.

Yet, there are moments, that take me by surprise and send hope surging.

That son, has graduated from High School. His choices his own. He enlists in the Marines. He is looking for action and more than what this rural town and country life can offer him. He longs for adventure and to escape the confines of this place he calls home.

And I let him go. I sign papers in the fall because he is not yet 18. These are his choices. 

I have raised him to be independent; though he was born strong.

 He resisted his entrance into this world with all he had. 

Literally weeks of trying to entice his passage from the womb. It was to no avail. 

He needed to be forced into the light of this journey.

 Razor sharp. . .me left with scars. . .

And now I wonder, what scars will he incur as time marches on and his enlistment date approaches?How do you celebrate your sons 18th birthday as he leaves on that birth date for the 

United States Marine Corps?

The milestones are to be celebrated. Marked. . .

Here I raise my Ebenezer. . .

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We marked this occasion of his 18th birthday and leave date with tears, and praise songs;

remembrances and heartache. 

And today, 6 weeks after he left us so suddenly, my heart is broken in pieces.

I wait and look to the LORD to put those pieces of my heart back together in His way. 

You can feel fall in the air.

I went outside to begin picking up the scraps of bark and wood.

Pieces left from the generosity of God's people. 

To Praise God for the stacked wood. 

We were visited by athletic teams from the High School.

Young men who had played hard the day before and won their first game of the season.

Some of the young men, had played side by side with Elijah on the Lacrosse field, team mates. . .

And they came to spend their Sunday, with their sore muscles and tired bodies. . .

stacking our wood. 

Wood that will allow my farmer and his only earthly son to spend time together, wood that will allow us to be warm in the cold winter days to come.  

This extravagant gift has left me undone. 

Elijah, you were taken too soon. I yearn for you with every cell in my body.

I think of your hands and the hard work you and daddy did.

And I praise God for 17 and a half years. 

And we will carry on. 

We will live what days we have left serving and giving back to this land. 

Thank you for your sacrifice of work and your willingness to serve this country.

Isaiah 64:8
Yet you, LORD, are our Father. We are the clay, you are the potter; we are all the work of your hand.

How a Community Serves

There is a threshold I have.

It isn't very high.

Things that used to energize me. . .

Exhaust me.

I find myself very distracted. 

Hard to stay focused on anything for very long.

(Ok, that is not a new problem)

I try to make sense of all that has happened. 

And I can't.

And I don't want it to be.
It's been six weeks since I have seen you.
Six weeks since my world changed forever.
Six weeks of clinging every moment to what I know and believe.
Six weeks of driving by the place you drew your last breath;
your last moments that I didn't share.
And I still cry out to God. . .

Every morning I wake, and the weight lies heavy upon me.

As if sleeping would change the course of events.

I choose to switch my thoughts to the Creator of the Universe.
I choose to praise God for the day and ask for his guidance.

And I fling  (ok, painstakingly roll)  myself out of bed.
Because sometimes I would rather stay there. I would rather just pull the covers over my eyes and remain in the dark.
But who is that serving?
 If I serve the God of the Universe who has called all things into being; then I can trust with all my heart that this is the plan set in motion for me.

But God does not leave us without hope or encouragement.

Abundant Grace has visited the farm.
Wild and unmeasured.

When A Community Grieves was a post I wrote the night of Elijah's wake.   
Today we are experiencing How a Community Serves. 
And we are overwhelmed and amazed by the outpouring of support. 

People would ask what they could do to help us. . .We never knew how to respond. 

Our son resides in Glory. . .there is not much anyone can do. 

We all feel helpless. 
Gary mentioned to someone that our family uses about 40 cords of wood to heat our outdoor boiler at the barn and then one at the house.
Splitting wood is something that is needed. 
One man had a desire. . .and he is sharing wild grace with this heartbroken family.
 Is this what Jesus meant about living in community?
More than fifty people shared this one man's desire.
 Log splitters, trailers and tractors have poured onto our property. 
By 9 o'clock there were huge piles of wood at both the house and the barn.
They were fed and given water.
There was much work done in a day.

Neighbors, church members, strangers. . . now all family, came together to serve, as they shared part of our burden.
Thank you.
 It is hard to receive this amount of grace. .
And my eyes fill again with the tears that fall so freely.
We are not alone. . .

Galatians 6:2

Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.

Not for a moment do I want to take my eyes off of Jesus. 
I seek him each morning and long for his comfort.
He sends it in the form of his people. .. 
He sends it is the form of his Holy Spirit.
He speaks through his Word. 
I hold tight to these things.
I know. . .this is what it means to be loved. . .to be held. . .

Psalm 103:1
Praise the Lord, my soul;
    all my inmost being, praise his holy name.