A Walk He Chose To Take

We celebrated his life. 

This man who was larger than life.
Who bent his knee to the Creator to be changed. 

Who took my broken heart into his hands and gently poured in grace. 

He taught me to receive. 

 His life; love in action. 

His sons talked of his faith. 

His love for words. 

And I know he loved coffee.
 He would show up at my door with his mug.
I loved that. 

He was a kindred spirit. 

As I sat in the back of the church I reflected on how almost 9 months ago
I sat in the front row remembering my son.
 Celebrating his brief life here on this earth.

 The life he was meant to live.
 No less. No more.
Part of the plan known only to King of Kings.

Today we will walk step by step towards the cross.

Each stop intentionally listening to the words spoken by Jesus. 

Our feeble attempt to "join" in his suffering. 

It is Good Friday.
The day on which all of creation hangs in balance.
Our Father turns his face from the filth of our beings.
He watched as his son bore the sin and shame meant for us.
Willingly Jesus moved to His death.
With each step He moved closer.
He at any time could have called 10,000 angels.
But He didn't.
He hung on the Cross over 2,000 years ago so that we might reign with him.
It is a debt I can never repay.
It is out of love and obedience that I serve Him.
Even when I don't understand Him.

As we wait and contemplate the cross.
I am reminded of a sermon.
It is one my boys repeated, over and over.
It is full of hope.
I encourage you to take some time to listen.
In the words of EV Hill.
It's Friday. . .And Sunday's comin'.

Are you ready? 
I can't wait. 

A Journey Through The Darkness

The quiet settles in to the farm house. 

Each to his own space. The little girls tucked in snuggy. 

The older kids working on school work. 

The farmer soon to be in deep slumber. 

It has been a full day. 

Milking, chores, working on the pack barn. 

(4-17-13)

Dealing with snow and mud. 

Visits to help heal broken hearts. 

Conversations about living for Christ. 

Advice from one close to depression. 

Visiting hours for the one who gave all. 

Ending with a band concert. 

The beat of the day. 

Pressing on.  

Even when you want to cry a halt. 

The day moves on. 

Living, breathing, embracing the journey placed before us. 

It would be so easy to just step off. To be done. 

Frankly, there are days when I think nothing, would be better than what is here. 

But do I want to miss one step of what God has ordained? 

Is there one moment that I want to walk outside His will? 

Not at all. 

I'd rather live with the pain, heartache and missing

 knowing this is right in the center of God's will than be apart from Him. 

We are at the end of Holy Week. 

We journey to the cross. 

We break the bread and drink the cup in remembrance.

Maundy Thursday

John 13:34

"A new command I give you: Love one another. 

As I have loved you, so you must love one another.

We read the Ancient Word. 

We extinguish the candles one by one until there is darkness. 

We reflect on the condition of our heart. 

We were bought for a price. 

We are loved. 

The condition of our heart atoned for. 

Life for a life. 

Grace and Mercy, freely given. 

On Good Friday we will walk. 

We will step by step relive the journey to Golgotha.

John 19:17

Carrying his own cross, he went out to the place of the Skull 

(which in Aramaic is called Golgotha).

Embracing the grace that meets us there.

Dying to live. 

We will yield our hearts to the One who gave all. 

Be still. 

Is your heart changed?

Can you rest in the Promise long given for you? 

He walked the road of suffering. 

For you. For me. 

The Cost Of The Cross

Snow. In April. 

Poor man's fertilizer. 

The temperature has dropped 30 degrees. 

The water has traveled outside it's boundaries. 

Warm air has given way to a bitter wind. 

Reminding us that winter has not had it's final say. 

It is Holy Week. 

For some, this means nothing.

For me. 

It is everything. 
The journey Jesus took to the cross is the defining piece of my faith. 

He came into Jerusalem Hailed as King and left Jerusalem via the cross.

He took on the dirty and broken; so that we might live. 

He died to save a wretch like me; 

when He himself was sinless. 

And as we travel to the cross this week. 

I weigh the cost. 

It cost him everything that I might have life. 

He had no regard for his own being. 

He willingly laid down his life for mine. 

It was not taken. He gave. 

I do nothing to deserve it. 

It's mine. Because He said so. 

As I watch rivers skip their banks,

 and water erode a section on a road in a matter of moments;

I am reminded that things of this earth are temporal. 

This is not our home. 

Matthew 6:19-21

Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. “But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, 

where neither moth nor rust destroys, and where thieves do not break in or steal;

 for where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

We're not home yet. 

This journey here is but a moment in the eyes of the Lord. 

We grieve this week for a friend. 

I am trying to sort it all out. 

We rejoice that he is home. 

He dances the streets of Gold with my son. 

He died serving. 

The cost of the cross. 

Doing what He felt God called Him to do. 

My heart knows this. 

But when that calling was for you the guilt thief struts in.

Bold and brass.

He died to help a wretch like me.

We will pay our last respects and celebrate his home going. 

Tucked right in the middle of Palm Sunday and Maundy Thursday. 

There is deep spiritual significance there. 

I will wrestle with this joy in the midst of grief. 

We are a people who grieve with hope; no matter how heavy the load becomes. 

All I know is I'm not home yet

This is not where I belong. 

Take this world and give me Jesus

This is not where I belong. 

How The Quiet Found Me

I sit on the rock.
I gaze out over this beautiful farm.

It's been months.

I haven't even wanted to venture outside. 

But today is warm. The wind is blowing and the memories strong.

The river rages with the ice cold mountain run off.
The expectancy of Spring in the air.
It is Holy Week.
The culmination of the Season of Lent.
These 40 days have gone so quickly.
How many days have I been still?
I haven't filled a bag in a week.
I have failed.
My expectations, not met.
A goal. Not reached.
I have let other things crowd the space.
 I wonder; what are those things? 
I have little to show for my time.
I have no tangible evidence.
That is the way it is with me.
I need to see the proof. 

I have no way to quantify if I have spent time learning to be still.
My bag a day gave way to doctors and cello; homework and dinners.
But before I write it all off as hopeless. 
I think about the time on the rock.

It was quiet. 
I found no need for words. 
It was just me. And the Creator.
I breathed in the deep earthy scent.
I gazed over winter's finality and the promise of spring.
I could hear the rage of winter's wrath in the river;
coursing and pressing the confines of the river path.
I felt the pressure of the wind as the gusts came.
And I felt the warmth of the sun after the stinging cold of a relentless winter.
This is what it means to be still. 
I sought this communion.
The weeks of purposefully seeking, has found me desiring the still.
Unconsciously I sought the stillness.
I went toward the quiet. 

Psalm 23:3
he leads me beside quiet waters,
     he refreshes my soul.

It didn't leave me uncomfortable.
My soul wrestled with the new grief before me.
The quiet; soothing and refreshing.
The journey through Lent may not have been perfect.
But the desire to still my aching soul is in process.
I long for the struggle to be over.
I long for the ache to disappear.

Habakkuk 3:19
The LORD God is my strength, and he will make my feet like hinds' feet, 
and he will make me to walk upon mine high places

But I am learning.
One moment at a time.
To surrender all that I am.
To seek the quiet. 
To rest in the presence of our Holy God.

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. "

When You Have More Questions Than Answers

My son is on the field playing. 

It is his first game.

It is my younger son. Now a High Schooler. 

I have sat in these bleachers for 4 years watching. 

The memories are overwhelming. 

These are new days. A new team. 

A friend joins me. 

Her sons gone to college. Mine to heaven. 

She sits with us. 

To remember. 

To help me through this day. 

While I sit in the sun; missing Elijah. 

Cheering Cedric. 

I receive a text.

It is a text I don't want to read. 

You see last Fall, we were blessed. 

A man with a desire to serve. 

A heart full of love. 

He came and he gave. 

He hugged us.

He breathed life into us. 

He organized. 

He made sure we had wood. 

He was relentless in his commitment and urgency filled with grace.

His energy contagious.

His hugs and words uplifting.

A gleam in his eyes reflecting the joy of the risen Lord.

We did not have to worry all winter. There was plenty. 

Before there was cancer. 

Before we knew the depth of the cold that would not let go.

Wood was not a worry. 

When the effects of chemo and radiation raged; 

there was only the task of filling the boilers. 

No endless trips to the woods.

There was grace. A gift.

 Heaven blessed.

We were warm. 

On the coldest of days. 

Gratitude poured from my heart with each passing day. 

All throughout the winter.

Gratitiude. Each day. 

Such a gift. 

One man's passion. 

One man's gift. 

How a community serves. 

As Winter gives way to Spring;

He is at it again. 

The passion intense. 

A focus, a desire to meet a need. To help relieve my farmers load.

To help restore his joy.

But the text tells me a different story. 

This man with the passion.  

This man with a heart of gold. 

Has now entered heaven's gates.

His residence with the King of Kings. 

And just for a moment. 

Again. 

My world stops turning.  

I am shocked.

And I struggle. 

Why God? 

I have so many questions.

Guilt slides in like the slithery snake it is.

My heart weighs heavy. 

A heart that is already fragile. 

This encouraging, Godly man.

Who loved coffee. Who loved his family so dearly.

Reaching out to serve. 

Called home. 

In the blink of an eye. 

None of this caught God off guard. 

None of this.

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.

There is joy in the home going. 

We rejoice in Elijah's place with our Savior.

We rejoice over Carl's presence in Glory. 

But oh, how our hearts ache. 

How the questions fill my being. 

Thank you Carl, for your gift. 

Thank you for an undying commitment to that which you believed and loved. 

I am sure, that as God ushered you through those gates.

You my friend, heard those precious words. 

"Well done, good and faithful servant."

Hebrews 12:1

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, 

let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles.

 And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us,

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?