How My Savior Leads Me

Almost All There

2012-02-15T15:40:00.002-06:00

It's all there: the pictures, the smiles, the memories, the horses, the kids . . . all except for Trent. It was one of those unbelievably gorgeous February days when, in the midst of paperwork and home school, I declared a fun day. Just like we used to do: pack up a picnic, the kids, and the horses and head out back. Even if everybody fought and the horses were ornery we were still together.

After my announcement I began procrastinating: we need to feed the chicks, does Micah have socks, change out of your nice pants, what kind of sandwiches should we bring, I have to put on some make-up, mascara, eye-liner, pick a pair of shoes . . .

I just don't want to do it; I don't know how to do it. When does the ache stop?

I beg for grace, and yet more grace . . . more and more and more. I think of eternity, when death will be no more. "Why not just start it today, God?" I ask Him; just start it today.

The grace trickles in. I have to go; I have to smile; I have to live. I remember that God is sovereign and Trent is in heaven after all: I know, I know. I just want to go have another picnic with him; I just want to hear him laugh again, and see him ride the short horses, and talk with him and see him play with his brothers. I don't know how to dream anymore. The perfect spot for the cabin doesn't seem so perfect anymore.

But God's grace is ultimatley sufficient, so I ride the horse, I eat the tuna wrap, I live for my kids.

The camera batteries were exhausted mid-picnic, so I couldn't hide anymore. I was forced to participate: to explore the woods looking for old bee-hives, laughing with my kids, playing games, really riding my horse, looking at the trees and the trail and the flying pheasant and the two girls ahead of me instead of looking for the perfect shot.

And I felt it, next to the ache and the pain, I felt the glimmer of joy rising.

Grief seems to force you to choose between emotions. Pain often rules and joy seems impossible because your loved one is gone. But does it have to be impossible? Is God not enough for joy in grief? For trusting His plans while you live the day's He still has you here?

This afternoon I stumbled across Isaiah 29:13 (NASB): Then the Lord said, " . . . [these] people draw near with their words and honor Me with their lip service, but they remove their hearts far from Me, and their reverence for Me consists of tradition learned by rote ..."

The words cut deep: lip service, rote tradition, heart far removed. I don't want my life to be lip service to God. I long to know Him and trust Him with my very being.

I read once about a mother who expressed that God graciously revealed to her through her grief that her greatest desire was really her child, not Jesus. Such a fine line. One that we think we have a right to as mothers: to place our children above everything else, even God. I long to let God be God, and to be so satisfied in Him and His plans that my life reveals it fully; to be so consumed with Him that the things of this life are meaningless.

Maybe that's the real pain: what I thought was reality in this world has been lost along with my son. Somehow I have to learn how to live here the rest of my days until I get to heaven, not being of this world but in this world. I will continue to listen for that trumpet, and as I wait I'll dance before my King (Phil 3:20; John 17:14-15; 1 Cor 15:51-52; 2 Samuel 6:16).

A New Song

2012-02-13T15:29:00.000-06:00

Sing to the Lord a new song,
His praise from the ends of the earth.
Isaiah 42:10a

My first thoughts this morning were about that last week a year ago. It was my underlying intention, I guess, to relive every moment of those days for . . . for what? Nostalgia? To question again God's plan, or attempting to have devised my own plans by asking the inevitable "what if I had only's?" Do I think that guilt would somehow have changed God's sovereignty?

I am finding out - the hard way - that there is this part of grief that insists the one left behind is held in a bondage of guilt . . . guilt for being happy, guilt for not crying enough, guilt for living. This "monster" continues it's attempts to overwhelm me. Like Traci reminded me the other day: "We were not originally created to experience death." Our very beings cannot take in the concept of death; our soul, mind and bodies are repulsed by the reality of it.

My second thought this morning was again the realization that it was not me who died a year ago. If I die along with Trent, what does that say of God? That He's not worthy to make plans greater than mine? Ummm . . . hello . . . I can barely balance my checkbook, let alone decide the fate of every soul that ever lived plus their eternal time and destination to face their Creator so that it will portray the most glory to God forever and ever and ever.

His ways are higher than our ways; higher than the heavens are from the earth; who can fathom His ways; it is better to be in heaven with Jesus than here in this world where the curse of sin still looms so heavily; I will fix my eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of my faith, who, for the glory and joy set before Him endured even the cross; will God's grace not be sufficient today; will His mercies fail this new day, this new moment?

And then I finally remembered that I don't have to figure this all out. God has only asked me to trust Him in it. So I went to my knees in prayer; I praised the God who gives and takes away; I begged for grace, and for salvation for my children who are still here.

Little Raelynn was so excited the other day to get a new dress. In her simple child-like belief (which, I might add, Aunt Terri could learn from) she said to her Mom, "It's too bad Trent didn't die this year, I could have worn this dress to his funeral."

Anybody who has never grieved without the hope of God and heaven would be mortified at some of the things that have come out of our mouths this past year: there is no doubt in us believers in the family that we will see Trent again, and when we do he is in for quite a few pit-attacks, nouggies, games of tag, popping kisses, and hugs that may never end.

I continue to attempt to learn how to live without my son; I attempt to decipher what really matters in my short days here.

The shock that Trent is really gone still surprises me most days. We are getting "used" to it at home, but the odd comment, or seeing somebody we haven't seen in a while, brings it all back fresh. "Are you really talking about my son?" I want to ask them.

Everywhere we go we make people cry: my mom, my sisters, our friends, the tax guy. There are no adequate words to express the depth of what it is like to see somebody grieving over your son; grieving for us in our grief; feeling the pain on our behalf. I am a people-pleaser and want to take it away from them. I want to tell them not to cry; to tell them that I am sorry for always making them cry; to tell them that I will quit writing and talking about Trent so that they won't have to cry . . . but I have to remember that ultimately I don't write for them; I don't share for them.

I fear forgetting Trent: his smile, his voice, his eyes, his favorite dessert, his favorite pair of jeans.

I don't know how to celebrate the one year anniversary of my son's death. I don't know how to continue when the months have turned into years. I guess it will be a lot like yesterday, and tomorrow, and the first day: all by the grace of God. I keep telling myself that as the days tick by I am counting them down the other way: rather than being one day longer since Trent died, I am really one day closer to eternity myself; one day closer to seeing God for myself. Isn't that the ultimate goal for the believer in Jesus? Isn't heaven the reward? Isn't this the temporary world, and eternity is the end result?

Billy Graham once said: "I am convinced that when a man is prepared to die, he is also prepared to live. The primary goal in life therefore should be to prepare for death. Everything else should be secondary." I am ready for death, secure in Jesus Christ, therefore I am free to live.

Perseverance

2012-02-10T15:26:00.002-06:00

I woke up crabby. Which soon turned into tears. Which soon turned into a headache. Which all began with an overwhelming longing for Trent to just walk down those stairs again this morning. Or to just be in the mix of kids and puppies. Or to just be around the corner to say "good-morning Mom" and give me a hug. The freshness of it hit me hard today. The intensity of missing him has been almost stronger this past week than it has been this whole past year.
Some tell me it is the shock of grief that is wearing off. Some tell me that the second year is worse than the first. Some tell me twenty years later it is still going to be hard. Some tell me that the rest of my life will involve this continuous battle.

What I've realized all over again is that this battle is a battle to believe. At the core, I am battling to gain victory over my flesh of feelings to hold on to the truth of God's Word. My feelings tell me that this hurts; my feelings tell me that I just want my son back; my feelings tell me that God can't be good in taking a twelve year old boy to heaven.

I pick up my sword and make feeble attempts to fight:

" . . . but He [God] who sent me [Jesus] is true." (John 7:28)

"I tell you the truth, whoever hears my [Jesus'] word and believes Him who sent me has eternal life and will not be condemned; he has crossed over from death to life." (John 5:24)

"Do not be amazed at this, for a time is coming when all who are in their graves will hear his voice and come out . . ." (John 5:28-29b)

"My Father is always at his work to this very day . . ." (John 5:17b)

"The work of God is this: to believe in the one He has sent." (John 6:29)

As I was on my knees in tears I was reminded of Hebrews 12:1, and the great cloud of witnesses that surround the believer. Commentaries indicate that these are the believers listed in chapter eleven, the list of the "greats", who overcame unbelievable trials and have now entered God's presence; who have been in God's presence for centuries since those trials. If we, as believers, had just a glimpse of heaven, and a true vision of who this God is, would we be more willing to trust our lives, and our children's lives, in His hands? After that first moment that our soul is in His presence, wouldn't we have gladly given up more if we had only understood now Whom it was we were entrusting our lives to?

I am not belittling grief, I am not denying the human reaction to it and every right that I could claim as a mother to feel the raw hatred of this and justify every tear and the right to stay in bed and cry. But what I cannot deny is that I have no grounds, as a believer in Jesus Christ, to not believe His promises in Scripture, other than my own wicked heart. Did He not say it? Did He not lay out the path of salvation clearly? Did He not tell us enough about the Father and heaven and eternal life and His love for us and the good plans He has for us that we should doubt Him?
I have no ground to stand on when I try to pull out my "human" card to try and trump His sovereignty. This battle is a battle for belief; it is a battle for eternal souls. If I were to face God today, would I face Him ashamed that I didn't just believe?

So I fight . . . I fight to believe every word in Scripture as if I would face God today. I face Him in my prayers; I face Him with the truth of my feelings, and actions, and heart; I battle to believe.

Lucky

2012-01-25T12:06:00.003-06:00

Lucky.

As I was making the bed a while back God impressed upon me that I was the lucky one (as in the definition meaning "favored one") . Grief longed to consume that morning; the impression had been preceded by many tears, prayers, and waiting for strength to start the day. As the tears continued, the blessings that come with suffering began: I realized that I can't even get out of bed in the morning without the thoughts of heaven and eternity; I can't begin my day without coming to terms with God; I no longer consider my days my own, let alone my dreams, ideas, or my very life, but wait for God's leading.

"Lucky" is having your eyes opened to God, no matter the cost.

I spoke to a young man the other day about Jesus. My walls had been built high and strong, and I had vowed there would be no break in them for my own protection, but then this young father broke all protocol and walked over to where I stood alone. After the small talk, I asked the all important question, "How's your walk with God?"

We've all learned the game, the game of Sunday smiles and every body's saved; life will go on forever anyway and there's always tomorrow to ask and decide. But life doesn't go on forever, and tomorrow may never come. The facade of the game is shattered, and I can't stomach the rules of it any longer. A bit of digging revealed the truth, to both of us. Game over. Now truth can begin, truth can be said, fears are revealed, honesty is given words, genuine prayers can be lifted for a brave man who is walking the line of no decision being a decision that one day he will wake up to the realities of.

I talked to a mother a while back. She wondered how you get to where I am; I wanted to ask her where it is that I am. Please tell me, because I don't always know.

Where I am is clinging to God. Where I am is battling, moment to moment, for grace to believe, to trust, to hold-on. Fighting for breath, literally; fighting for reality; fighting to see beyond this world to a sovereign God who holds it all in His hands, including me. Where I am is on my knees, begging for strength. Where I am is in the Bible, constantly repeating the words and promises, trusting in them. Where I am is looking intently for God's glory, now as well as future. Where I am is believing in the One who gives and takes away. Where I am is waiting for Jesus to return and make this all right; waiting for the curse to be lifted and for the tears to be wiped away.
As the tears flowed down her face, all I could ask her was if she trusted God with her teen-age son's life. That's all that I'm doing; that's where I am.

I have been reading Uncle Tom's cabin by Harriet Beecher Stowe. When I remembered part way through that the little girl dies I almost quit reading, but I am so glad that I have continued. As much as the book is about the atrocity of slavery, it really is a testimony of the gospel at it's core. After Eva's death, the author says:

"Thine is the victory without the battle - the crown without the conflict."

Some battles are won even before they are fought; other battles continue for years. I think of Trent's short life: he was a child his whole life, he never tasted of the cares and concerns of adult trials, or battled the battle's of years worth of sins. His was the "crown without the conflict".

I realized the other day that I could potentially live another 50 years . . . waking up every morning for another 50 years to fight for the victory of this battle. I thought of the blip of our lives on the screen of eternity. How would you even begin to measure eternity? And where would 12 years, 50 years, even 88 years fall on that line? In the grand scheme of things, isn't it the other side of eternity that matters? Isn't it where we are on that side that we should be more concerned about rather than our short time here?

Another line from the book was said by Eva's father, St. Clare, shortly after his daughter died. He had been indifferent to the gospel his daughter continued to share with him, until he had to come face-to-face with who this God was and what eternity held. He said, "I am braver than I was, because I have lost all; and he who has nothing to lose can afford all risks."

Eleven months ago I held on to this world and it's trinkets with a tight grip; I have been forced to let go. Actually, it was God's mercy that released my grip; it was a direct answer to prayers that Rob and I had been praying for right before the accident. Prayers for God to wake us up to Him; prayers to draw us closer, to know Him deeper, to live our lives for Him, to use our son in a mighty way for the gospel. We are braver now, because we have lost all. We see eternity clearer now, we see God clearer now, we see our short days clearer now and are counting the cost of how we live them. There is nothing in this life left to lose; we can afford all risks that hindered us before from trusting God, knowing God, telling others about God.

St. Clare asked Uncle Tom at one point, "How do you know there's any Christ, Tom? You never saw the Lord."

"Felt Him in my soul, mas'r - feel him now!" was Tom's reply.

I feel Him in my soul; feel him now. I long for the day I will see Him with my eyes; see what Trent see's; know what Trent knows. Fifty more years here does not thrill me; the sooner I see my Savior face to face the better.

Second Thessalonians 1:10 says that those who have believed will marvel at Jesus when He comes in His glory. Marvel at Him. First Peter 1:5 says that God Himself is a shield through faith. As the waves of grief consume, the panic attacks, grasping for breath, flashbacks of hospitals and policemen, I envision that shield of God Himself surrounding me. The enemies arrows are poised and thrown, but the shield of God protects. I hold on to God's grace that He continues to give; His eternal encouragement and good hope (2 Thes 2:16). Eternity is where my eyes are focused; eternity is what I continue to look forward to.

Stuff

2012-01-18T12:03:00.002-06:00

And we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God.
Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings,
because we know that suffering produces perseverance;
perseverance, character;
and character, hope.
And hope does not disappoint us,
because God has poured out His love into our hearts
by the Holy Spirit, whom He has given us.
Romans 5:2b-5

The camp called yesterday and left a message asking if Trent might want to come to the youth retreat in February. I know . . . just let that sink in for a bit. Just another goofy grief thing that seems to never end. Umm, no, Trent won't be able to make it this year, he has better plans. I laughed, I banged my head on the table, and then I cried. A book will be in the mail soon . . .

It's been a week of "haunting"~ making enchiladas for movie night again, pulling into the grocery store parking lot just as an exact snowmobile-coat-clad-patron walked by, vivid dreams, the ushering in of the "seconds" with the birth of the new goats. I figured once the firsts were over we'd be on the easy side of grief; I guess I was wrong.

Cole tripped on the china hutch yesterday, which refreshed more eleven month old memories. The day before the accident Trent had been running through the dining room, tripped on the leg of the hutch, the door flew open and out came crashing down numerous long-stemmed glasses that we use for our fancy birthday suppers. He was going to tell me and apologize the next day. I never got around to making any fancy birthday suppers the past year to realize they were missing.

My brain has refused to think this past week: complete overload. So I let it rest, and I rest, and I function on auto-pilot to keep cooking, and doing chores, and raising kids, and waiting for eternity to begin. Words could barely even break through as the balm that they usually are. I stayed where God had me; I trusted His leading. I indulged in ignoring the computer; I indulged in loving my kiddos; I indulged in letting life be simple.

This morning God led me to the Romans passage to wrestle again with suffering, hope, joy, glory. My brain doesn't understand justification through faith leading to peace with God at this point. My brain just wants to stay fuzzy in it's vitamin D lacking winter hibernation: sometimes it feels safer there.

But on my knees I know this God; this God of big words and bigger truths. I long for this God, to really know Him, and realize that suffering is a huge part of it.The suffering is what causes us to look for hope.

It's a grasping at this point; barely holding on by the fingertips as I strive to live moment to moment some days, but it's still there: hope. Hope in the glory of God, hope in the glory yet to be revealed, hope in an eternity to see it clearly. Hope worth rejoicing in, even in the suffering.

Finding God in the Goat Barn

2012-01-09T12:01:00.001-06:00

Dixie is our goat herd matriarch. She is older, and is carrying a huge belly right now as kidding season is about to begin. She is pretty pathetic looking as she only has half an udder, and that teat hangs nearly to the floor at this point, as we were naive goat farmers when we bought her all those years ago and didn't know a good udder from a bad one. I promised her I won't breed her next year, poor thing, and will keep her forever no matter what our farm motto states. But she loves being a momma, so I couldn't deny her one last opportunity to try for pretty spotted babies before we sold that handsome buck.

I was crooning to her last night, and petting and kissing her, and crying to her about no Trent to sit with us at delivery time this year. I had to rub her back for the both of us. Constantly I remind myself that this is God's battle; He will come out victorious. Maybe in eternity there will be goat farms and sons to sit by again without the fear of death. Even if heaven was only that, it's all it would take to make me happy forever.

I was reading in Hebrews 12 about the thousands upon thousands of angels in assembly in the city of the living God, and about the great cloud of witnesses that surround us watching what God is doing. Watching for how He will cause His children to persevere in this race that He has marked out for us. This race that is so hard. Once again, I fixed my eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of my faith, and set before myself the joy of the cross that makes enduring this all possible.

Because of the cross I am forgiven, because of the cross Trent is in heaven, because of the cross I will be able to be presented before God holy and blameless, because of the cross I call myself a stranger here in this world, because of the cross my Heavenly Father disciplines me for my own good so that later on a harvest of righteousness and peace will be produced.

Lord willing, I will not refuse this God, but will look forward all the more to His heavenly kingdom that cannot be shaken.

Even if that means right now it hurts, and I cry and cry and cry. But I have found freedom in the tears; a sweet fellowship with Jesus that I have never known so deep before. I guess God will bottle up tears cried to goats, too.

Ice Skating

2012-01-08T11:56:00.002-06:00

Ice skating ~ it's one of the highlights of a Wisconsin winter. And 40 degree January days only make ice skating sweeter. The kids dug through the bin of garage-sale skates that we have had for years and years and claimed a fitting pair to own for the season. Rob checked and gave the "okay" for the ice safety, and off they went~ twirling and swirling, whooping and chasing.

I joined them today to take the obligatory 200 pictures of every newly created memory that none of us will ever want to forget. The "martha" that I am, I also picked up the shovel and helped clear the snow off the ice. And I cheered everybody on, and I watched the greatest ice-skating tricks that I've seen since last winter, and laughed and hugged and smiled and enjoyed my kiddos.And missed Trent. And thought of last year. And tried to live now.

Life is tainted when a child dies. No matter what you do, it's always with you. The pain sneaks in along with the memories; the hope of heaven sneaks in, too. There is no more contentment with today, but always looking back or looking forward. Maybe because the today is too painful. Or maybe the pain goes away eventually: but then do the memories go away, too? How can a mother want to enjoy the rest of her life without her child? I don't know . . . just rambling; thinking out loud; working my way through this process.

And then I watched Micah slide down the dock, thought "what a crazy, wild kid!" And then I asked him for a turn on the sled and went down the dock myself, off the jump, and slid all the way across the pond into the cat-tails ~ screaming for joy all the way ~ because life is short and I'm still here.

Two Plus Two Equals God

2012-01-05T11:54:00.001-06:00

If what Scripture says is true: "Those who call on the name of the Lord {Jesus} will be saved." (Romans 10:13)

And: "To be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord." (2 Corinthians 5:8)

Then: My son is with God.

God.

God.

My son is with God.

And, if my son is with God, then I need to decide what to do with this God that my son is with. I need to figure out how to live the rest of the short days that I have on this earth until I meet this God. I get to quit crying, quit hurting, quit whining . . . because my son is with God.

God.

Trent knows what God looks like. He knows what Jesus' face looks like; what the nail holes and the scar on His side looks like; what His robe looks like; what heaven looks like; what Jesus' glory looks like; what the angel's look like; what the throne looks like.

What I can't imagine, Trent knows. He is with God . . .

With God.

Yet somehow my days still need to consist of feeding goats and choosing what's for supper, and ultimately trying to figure out how to glorify God in all of it.

I stand in awe: Trent is with God.

What I Found on the Floor

2012-01-02T11:48:00.001-06:00

My soul, wait silently for God alone,
for my expectation is from Him.
Psalm 62:5 (NKJV)

What I found lying on the bedroom floor, crying and broken, was everything that I had tried to stuff too deep. I found the pain that I refused to feel, the burdens that I had carried too long, the pride that I thought I was entitled to, the fears that I couldn't manage, the release that could only be found at the foot of Christ's cross. I found the freedom to live exposed. Exposed to myself, exposed to others, exposed to God Himself. I felt my smallness; and eternities greatness. I realized that when it comes right down to it, all that really matters is the state of my soul before God. Am I obedient, am I seeking, am I trusting, am I surrendering? Is Jesus glorified? Or am I still glorifying myself; ultimately putting myself in His position? Have I let Him be God? Have I surrendered to His sovereignty? Have I quit kicking and fighting and writhing under His ways? Have I yielded my personal rights and expectations to God? Have I truly yielded them to accept being shattered? Again . . . today . . . fighting the good fight.

Bargaining

2011-12-29T11:40:00.000-06:00

I realized today that I am bargaining. I think I forgot that verse about God's thoughts being higher than my thoughts.*

Why, God? Not blasphemous, just why. Why couldn't people have been saved without Trent dieing? Why couldn't people have been taken deeper in their walks without it being my son? Why did I have to love him so much? Why does it have to be ten months later? Why does it have to hurt so much now? Why can't I have that peace and joy and certainty of heaven again? Why does this battle rage so hard? Why is there such an intensity to doubt? Why can't eternity just begin now~ wouldn't it be a perfect day for Jesus to return?*

I was even toying with the idea of exchanging those promised rewards*~ maybe I could trade them in for what's behind curtain number three and we could all go back to last February. Curtain number three may have been eighty years with my son whom had never gotten saved. Eighty years here or eternity at age twelve . . . Eighty billion years from now I would have gladly picked his eternity to start now.

My thoughts go to Jesus' temptation in the desert.* That separation from all that He knew, to be tempted when He was at His weakest point by Satan himself. What sustained Him was the Word of God, the ministering angels, the Truth, the hope, the joy set before Him. How revealing temptation is; I don't like revealing.

I've realized that at some point I have to let Trent go. I feel like I am in a tug of war: Trent pulling me heavenward, and everything else pulling me back to this world. Somehow I have to embrace living here again; yet the thought makes me want to puke, literally. So instead I somehow think that staying in bed, or finding a comatose state for my brain of not feeling, might help.

Every project I even think of immediately reminds me of the fact that Trent took nothing with him to heaven. Everything here is temporary, and only what is done for Christ will last. I don't have the energy to invest in temporary things anymore; yet at the same time I find myself coming back to thinking that the next temporary thing really will bring complete satisfaction and would be worth investing my time, money and energy in . . . only to know, deep, deep down, that it won't. So how do I live the rest of my life? Why am I still straining for earthly glory? Why am I not pressing into God harder?

Or maybe I am, and the pain that I feel is really the disappointment of the reality of this world which I have trained myself to be so comfortable in all my life*. Maybe the pain is because I can't lie to myself anymore and think that achieving the highest heights here matters so much. Maybe I really just want to go back to living how I was a year ago and be content by only crossing off the next project, but I know at the same time that I can never deny the truth that I have seen. Maybe I am grieving what I thought was reality for thirty-some years. Maybe I am finally being forced to acknowledge where my allegiance lies: my own selfish self, or God.

I am where I am, and that is grieving my son, as my sister reminds me if I try to justify anything. Those sisters~ they don't let you fool them. Grieving my son: I hate the words, yet I love the God he's with. God doesn't accept bargains; but He holds breaking hearts.

* Isaiah 55:9, Revelation 19, Revelation 22:12, Luke 4, 1st Corinthians 3:12-14

Repentance and Rest

2011-12-27T11:36:00.002-06:00

"In repentance and rest is your salvation,
in quietness and trust is your strength..."
Isaiah 30:15

A lazy bum: that's what I've been for the past week or so. We took a vacation from school, so besides doing chores (when Cole doesn't do them before me), and reminding the kids to do their chores, and going up and down the basement steps umpteen times a day to fill the wood stove, I haven't been doing very much else. Alexis even told me one day, "Mom, you do have to remember to feed us!" I happen to not be a big eater, and "forget" to eat regularly, especially when there is no schedule to follow. Good thing there are some budding chefs around here who do remember that it's time to make something for lunch.

I miss Trent. I miss living without the pain of missing my son. And I knew it would be harder over the holidays. Therefor, I committed myself to very little else other than grieving.

Exhaustion only causes me to forget the Promises, and they are easier to forget when the pain crashes in, wave after wave. I don't want pity; I just need to acknowledge where God has me and allow myself to be there. This is tough; it's a real battle. A battle to believe, to not give up, to not grow weary, to keep going.

I don't know how to hope for tomorrow, so I just focus on getting through today. I focus on getting out of bed in the morning to be able to kneel and pray; to be real with the God of the universe and allow the tears to flow over missing my son~ trusting God, but missing Trent. I make the bed, remembering how Trent used to always come in and snuggle. I walk past his bedroom, where there is no longer a sleeping teenage boy on the bottom bunk. I start the coffee and check the wood stove, then sit down in the recliner to read my Bible. An hour later, I am still begging for the strength to start this new day.

"In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength."I remember the words: the words that have been impressed upon my heart for nearly a decade. "Repentance and rest" in a world of hurry up and never take the time to stop and ponder eternal truths; they are a welcome sign to sit at my Saviors feet. During a quiet time of prayer the repentance can come, followed by the rest: the rest of a forgiven, satisfied heart, a truthful heart, a broken heart. God knows, there is no reason to pretend that He doesn't.

Quietness and trust. When the chaos is too loud I can't hear God. In the quiet He whispers, and then my heart remembers His words, and the trust comes easier. But quietness in a busy household is hard to come by. I intentionally carve it out of my days, and I guard my mornings to achieve it. The kids know my ritual and honor it as much as seven-to-sixteen-year-olds can, and my husband has long given up on asking me anything or intruding on that much needed time until I rise from my chair with a smile on my face.

"Let us not become weary in doing good,
for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up."
Galatians 6:9

I am weary lately, so very weary. Ten months into this and I feel as if I am no closer to eternity myself. Galatians 6:9 has been my anchor verse this past week: "Don't grow weary, don't grow weary, don't grow weary . . . for at the proper time, proper time, proper time . . ." I have repeated to myself over, and over, and over again. Even a friend encouraged me with those words today. I remind myself that it is all done at God's proper time, not mine.

And then I see a picture, or a card, or a pair of boots or Trent's shorts in the hamper (it's funny how all these months later those same pair of shorts keep getting cycled through and nobody claims to know why they were on the closet floor or under a bed) . . . and the battle begins again.

On Christmas Eve afternoon I was working in the kitchen and muttered under my breath,"I just don't want to do this.""I can tell," was Alexis' reply. The soft words were soothing, not harsh, as she wrapped her arms around me.

I was surprised that the honest thought had been said out loud rather than just in my heart. I really tried: I tried to make it a nice Christmas. I helped cut down and decorate the obligatory pine tree, I went to the parties and plays, I made the cookies for the neighbors, I wrapped the presents, I made the Eclair cake, and then I ate half of the Eclair cake. But it still showed: I didn't want to do it. I didn't want a Christmas without Trent.

So I repented and I rested; I stayed quiet and I trusted God; I kept doing the good things for my family and refused to become weary in them; I longed even more for my Savior Jesus to come and make it all right again.

In repentance and rest is my salvation, in quietness and trust is my strength. In God's strength, I will refuse to grow weary of doing good things, and will look forward to that harvest which will come in God's proper time.

Luke

2011-12-22T11:31:00.000-06:00

Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God.

Blessed are you who hunger now, for you will be satisfied.

Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh.

Blessed are you when men hate you,

when they exclude you and insult you and reject your name as evil,

because of the Son of Man.

Rejoice in that day and leap for joy, because great is your reward in heaven.

Luke 6:20-23

I have been reading in Luke lately and have been soaking up the words of my Savior. Sweet words that are a balm to my soul; words that go deeper than just letters on a page.When the Lord saw her {the mother whose son had just died}, His heart went out to her and He said, "Don't cry." Then He went up and touched the coffin, and those carrying it stood still. He said, "Young man, I say to you, get up!" The dead man sat up and began to talk, and Jesus gave him back to his mother. Luke 7:13-15

"Tradition says that while Christ was hanging there {on the cross}, the angels drew their swords. They announced, 'We are going to rescue you.' God said, 'No,' and the Scripture says that God spared Him not." Billy Graham

As I read that passage this morning I could just about imagine Jesus as He walked the streets of Nain, when along came the weeping mother and the coffin. I didn't have to imagine the mother; I knew her all too well. Being the very Son of God, Jesus realized what she couldn't see at the time: that her son would one day rise again. Scripture says that Jesus' heart went out to her.

Those words were said at Trent's funeral, that one day Jesus would say to Trent, "Young man, I say to you, get up!" And Trent will rise, coming forth with a glorious, imperishable body.*

How Jesus' heart must go out to His hurting children. How hard it must be to be bound by sovereignty for the sake of greater glory for our Savior to have to wait to say those words. The pain He must feel to see mother's weeping, all the while knowing Himself the depth of their pain and the joy that is coming.

Do the angels draw their swords while the enemy appears to be conquering, while mother's cry the tears and fight back the doubts? Is the great cloud of witnesses that surround the believer amazed or disappointed for the level of our faith?*

I have often wondered what went on in the angelic realm the day that Trent headed down that ski slope: did the angels have to be restrained from rescuing this little one that they had been put in charge of*, not knowing fully, either, God's perfect and sovereign plan?

For God's ways are higher than our ways; higher than the heavens are from the earth.*

Luke reminds us to Rejoice - Rejoice! - and leap for joy. He tells the poor, and the hungry, and those who weep now that great is our reward in heaven, and that we should look forward to it; a reward so great that it's worthy of the weeping. Therefore, we go on rejoicing, trusting, and weeping day by day until we receive it and see face-to-face this mighty God who is wise enough to have ordained it all to be this way.

* Hebrews 12; Matthew 18:10; Revelation 20; Isaiah 55:9

I Was Thinking

2011-12-15T11:26:00.001-06:00

. . . it is for God's glory so that God's Son may be glorified through it.
John 11:4b

I was thinking about Lazarus today. As I was doing the farm chores, just feeding the horses some hay in the blustery cold, I turned to head back to the barn and the thought struck me: Jesus didn't come right away; He stayed where He was. His friend was sick, His other dear friends were crying, and Jesus stayed where He was. Scripture says that He knew Lazarus would die, but Jesus stayed where He was because His glory would be seen greater if He waited. My thoughts then went to ten months, ten years, twenty or thirty years . . . how much greater will Jesus' glory be then, if it was that great when He waited only two days?

I have a friend who keeps a "nothing book". It is just a book that sits out on her countertop and any family member can come along and write whatever they want to in it; a book filled with the "nothings" of life that turn into the "everythings of life". It is filled with the silly memories of everyday childhood, and being a family, from various perspectives.

Years ago I tried to write books for each of the kids about the silly things that they did: washing kittens in the sink, their little sayings, Christmas presents and traditions, and favorite foods. As they have each learned how to write they have been required to take over the recording by writing daily journals for home school. Since I enjoy words and memories so much, especially the ones written in the penmanship of those I love, I decided to start a "Trent book".

Over four years ago, when Rob, Trent and I were in India to bring Micah home, I bought a beautiful book, created with hand made paper, at an Indian shop. It has sat on my desk, in the original wrapper, awaiting the perfect purpose; never did I imagine that it would be for this purpose. All those memories, the big and the small, the "Oh, remember whens", the laughing one's and the crying one's, will now have a place to be; a place to come back to, a place to own, a place to be visited often, especially on the day's that we can't remember when.

I held the package in my hands for the longest time this afternoon, not sure just how to begin such a monumental book. What word could hold enough meaning to be the first word penned on that beautiful paper; which memories do you record, how can I do this, how can I not do this, what happens when the pages are all filled up? So, it's sitting on my cupboard friends, and aunts and uncles, and grandmas. . . it's your story to tell, too.

And talking about books . . . God is using How My Savior Leads Me in way's that I can't even begin to imagine. Our little newspaper's picked up the story, there has been minimal marketing yet sales are going well, I had a great opportunity to share {survived the interview:} on the blog talk radio show, and we had a book signing at the local library a couple of weeks ago. I see only clearer that it is God doing His work through me as I feel so incapable of attempting to minister in-and-of myself to the deep needs of those He brings to us. The stories, and the hurts, and the pain of lives that people have shared already make me see how good God has been to us and I appreciate His grace all the more. I pray daily for the words in that little book to shine God's glory and bring many to know Him.

And from this morning . . .

{Jesus} rebuked them for their lack of faith
and their stubborn refusal to believe . . .
Mark 16:14b

Sort of gave me the swift kick that I needed in the midst of my whining this morning. As far off as eternity seems sometimes, I found myself wondering if it would be a rebuke that I hear for my refusal to believe God's Word rather than a "well done, good and faithful servant." Either I believe Scripture or I don't; either I will live it or I had better give it up. But, since I do believe it, then I have no excuse to not live it. Like a friend likes to say, "Suck it up, Buttercup." God said it, so believe it, go live it, and don't quit sharing it. Souls matter; eternities matter; God's glory matters.

When Even the Coffee's Bitter

2011-12-14T11:19:00.001-06:00

You know it's going to be a challenging day when you're grumbling before you even open your eyeballs. When it's day three of rain and drizzle and warm spring like weather, but you know it's only December and a long way off until real warm spring like weather. When you meet the youngest on the landing of the stairwell because he's up already, too, bouncing and ready to go. And the other son has been up for an hour and a half (again) and has already done his day's work and is ready to talk and practice adding suffixes to adjectives, all before you've even started the coffee pot that has now peetered out to the point that it takes twenty minutes to make a batch of black brew.

So, in my impatience and desperation, I pour a cup half-pot and settle with drinking really strong coffee. Yeesh! A morning person I am not. Well, actually I am a morning person, if this old farmhouse is quiet and my brain can finish it's God thoughts and the phone doesn't ring and there's plenty of cream and sugar.

"Only those who have known sorrow and suffering can have fellowship with those in affliction," is the quote from the book The Faith of Billy Graham that I happened to flip open to this morning. Interesting, considering that my thoughts and prayers this morning centered around this verse:
Philippians 3:10-11 "I want to know Christ and the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in His sufferings, becoming like Him in His death, and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead."

I have been trying to wrap my brain around that verse for quite some time now, even before Trent died. I can't honestly say that I have truly, at my core, really, really ever wanted to endure great suffering. At my core I am really a wimp. But, as odd as it sounds, and as I have watched others suffer, and have seen a glimpse of the grace poured out on them, I have longed for that grace; especially the knowing of Christ in that way. But knowing Jesus Christ that way only comes about through the fellowship of sharing in His suffering. And this fellowship goes beyond me, all the way to God's glory, and only God's glory.

"Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we boast in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us." Romans 5:1-5

That's another verse I have been pondering for the past near 10 months, because it is not enough to suffer for only MY perseverance, MY character, MY hope, MY fellowship with those who are afflicted, MY, MY, MY. It has to go beyond . . . beyond me.

And this verse points to that beyond, all the way to Jesus; our hope is in Jesus alone. I don't know how, I can't see it clearly, but somehow the suffering we are called to in this life produces in the Christian the hope of Jesus making this all right one day; and beyond right, all the way to glorious; His glory shining in a way that we can't begin to fathom. Our eyes turn to Him in a way that they would not be able to without suffering. And His Spirit brings endurance, and grace, and faith, and mercy, and joy, and hope one day at a time, often one moment at a time.

I've found myself in therapy this week. Therapy for me is putting my hands to a pitchfork or a hammer. What I build is usually not pretty and always far from perfect, let alone level; there is a reason why I build on the back of the forty. All year I have hardly been able to even get up the gumption, let alone had the physical strength, to even pick up a hammer or a pitchfork. But this week I did. So I cleaned out the much overdue goat barn, and Cole and I mucked out the chicken coop and started preparing the kidding stalls for next month. And then Traci stopped over and we laughed and talked God and she held boards and swung a hammer with me and we built a hay feeder for the goats. And I think she appreciated the therapy, too.

And then the thought struck me . . . that last night, eons ago it seems, I was dreaming about spotted goat kids and farm plans and preparing kidding stalls and there were five kids playing in the haymow. The haymow that I can barely go up to, the thoughts that keep on coming, trying to paralyze me from trusting God and living in His good plans.

"Can't I just pitch a tent here, God, and stay on this mountaintop?" I asked Him. I've never understood Peter so well. (Matthew 17:4)

"Let's not go down, keep me in this place of safety and trust, God. Don't let the thoughts invade, or the peace flee, or let me be consumed with here and now; keep me in the palm of Your hand; delight over me again; pour out Your grace until I get there, too." If I let them, the thoughts do invade and the lies swirl and I am consumed again with the sinking of despair and I lose sight of my sovereign God's hand. "Let's just pitch a tent and stay on the mountaintop, God. I don't want to go down there."

But I go where He leads, and I take the good days along with the hard days. I pray more on the hard days, I know Him more on the hard days, I hold on tighter and look harder for eternity on the hard days. And on the good days . . . I smile, and my prayers turn to rejoicing, and I long for His glory to shine more, and I hold on tighter yet and look harder again for that eternity and His glory that will be revealed only greater because of suffering. And then I remember that Trent is in heaven . . . heaven . . . so I quit my whining and drink my coffee.

Plain and Simple

2011-12-13T14:38:00.006-06:00

I am a goat farmer. Plain and simple. I find great pleasure in being in a stinky barn mucking out stalls. Big bellies, hours of assisting does in labor, and slimy afterbirth covered hands holding a new kid thrills my soul. Raising bottle-calves with that goats milk, and then watching those steers grow into large, healthy bovines is right up there with tending to the goats. And then there are the chickens: the farm fresh eggs, the cackling hens, and the job of shutting a little chicken ramp on a cold wintry night to keep them all warm and toasty inside their fancy coop brings a smile to my face like not much else can.

But I've realized that maybe I am too simple. Maybe I am too easily satisfied. I have found in the mornings that I am having an increasingly harder time trying to worship this God I love because I can't even begin to imagine Him appropriately; I can't fathom His greatness; I can't go beyond the little box I continue to put Him in to take in His grandness. I get stuck. What words could there be to describe Him?

My mind goes to Scripture to try to identify just who He is: King of Kings and Lord of Lords, the great I AM, Wonderful Counselor, Savior, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. I don't know how to encompass a God like this into my little brain and my little world, and then find words to honestly praise Him in a way that is fitting to His majesty. A God, who while sovereignly running the entire universe from time's beginning to time's end, comes down to my bedside to hear the lamenting and crying of my heart and my little pleas, and then responds by reminding me of what He says in His Word:

"The Lord your God is with you, He is mighty to save.
He will take great delight in you,
He will quiet you with His love,
He will rejoice over you with singing."
Zephaniah 3:17

I think of my son being with this God, this God that I can't contain or begin to see the depth or beauty of, and I find myself not even being able to long for Trent to be back today. So I attempt to praise God more as I'm down there on my knees; to praise this God who gives strength, His strength, and mercy to His children for whatever He calls them to endure until we do see Him face to face.

Therefore . . .

2011-12-08T14:36:00.001-06:00

Therefore we do not lose heart.
Though outwardly we are wasting away,
yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day.

For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us
an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.

So we fix our eyes not on what is seen,
but on what is unseen.
For what is seen is temporary,
but what is unseen is eternal.

2 Corinthians 4:16-18

I'm thinking this will be my new verse to memorize, or maybe I'll have Alexis write it out in calligraphy and put it in a frame to hang on the wall. "Light and momentary" being the key words, as well as "glory and eternal", and then there's "seen and unseen". With the holidays, and all the new firsts, those things have gotten harder to remember lately. I think these are the day's all those kind people warned me about nine months ago when the hope was still so fresh and eternity didn't seem so far away; it now seems pretty far away. So, I pray harder, cry more, and hold on tighter. In desperation I call on my prayer warriors, only to find out that they are already responding to God's urging to go to their knees to hold me up in prayer at this time; just another testimony to God's never-ending provision. So I pray for them right back. Light and momentary, glory and eternal, seen and unseen; holding on tighter to my Savior's hand until I see Him face to face for myself.

Hiding in God

2011-12-07T14:28:00.002-06:00

"For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
neither are your ways my ways,"
declares the Lord. "
As the heavens are higher than the earth,
so are my ways higher than your ways,
and my thoughts than your thoughts."
Isaiah 55:8

I have forgotten that the past few days. I have forgotten the vast distance between my thoughts and God's thoughts. Somehow, I fell into the trap of thinking that I knew best, that I could control my little universe, that my plans would work better than His.

"Sometimes God comes down and asks great things of His people; God puts us on a course of His own choosing." I wrote the words down during the sermon at church on Sunday, and have come back to relish them again today. The pastor was talking about Mary when the angel came to tell her that she would be the virgin mother of the Son of God; definitely not a path of her own choosing as a young teenager. Her response? "I am a servant of the Lord, let it be as you said." Luke 1:26-38

Not sulking, not defeat, not defiance. Humble obedience. Total trust.

God offered me an invitation to the thirsty this morning by bringing me to Isaiah 55. And I am thirsty for Him; so thirsty. "Why spend money on what is not bread, and your labor on what does not satisfy? Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good, and your soul will delight in the richest of fare. Give ear and come to me; hear me, that your soul may live." (Isaiah 55:2-3)

Hope; I forgot about hope. Hope beyond today, hope beyond pain, hope for eternity. The mail-lady delivered a little book by Joni Eareckson-Tada this week called Hope . . . the Best of Things. In this inspiring little booklet, she writes about Christians being called to take up our cross daily and follow the Lord Jesus (Luke 9:23). But her cross, she says, is not her wheelchair; it is her attitude towards her wheelchair. Ultimately, her attitude towards God for putting her in that wheelchair.

Ouch.

My cross is not that my son died; my cross is my attitude towards God for working out His plans which included my son dieing at age twelve. "His ways are higher than mine," He reminded me, "higher than the heavens are from the earth." I can't see eternity. I can't see the ripple effects of one boy going to heaven. I can't see beyond the pain some days. But God has let me choose: my ways, or His ways. Ultimately, there is no choice, other than to see that I have taken my eyes off of the cross, off of Jesus, and that I have resorted back to trusting in my own ways.

. . . if you honor it by not going your own way and not doing as you please or speaking idle words, then you will find your joy in the Lord . . .
Isaiah 58: 13b-14a

Jibberish to one who does not know the Lord; overwhelming peace to one who looks forward to the coming of the Lord Jesus and that day when salvation will be revealed and our King will reign, defeating His enemies, including death.

Seek the Lord while He may be found; call on Him while He is near.
Isaiah 55: 6
Blessed is the man who does this, the man who holds it fast. . .
Isaiah 56:2a

Contentment

2011-12-03T14:26:00.002-06:00

Laying in bed expecting sleep to come, and realizing that the odds are against me thanks to that big cup of tea I drank at 4:30, I crawl out from beneath my warm covers to let the barking dog in . . . a good excuse to write and get these thoughts out of my head.

The thoughts of being content in God, and God alone. I know I am supposed to be, and I long to be, but too often I catch myself, again, looking here and now for that contentment.

I see it running rampant in my children, too, with the Christmas season approaching. For as much as we think we are not training them up to seek their treasures here, they still have their own lists of what they hope will ultimately make them happy: dolls and electronic gadgets and remote control trucks to replace the one that survived less than twenty-four hours from last week. Always more, always longing for something else. Maybe the lists are so long because, deep down, we all hope the "next one" will fulfill the ultimate satisfaction we seek on some level; the ultimate satisfaction that is only found in Jesus Christ when He reigns.

I have been pondering heaven again lately. First, the fact that Trent is there. Just that thought alone makes me pause. I have to stop what I'm doing, literally, and can't even go beyond that realization sometimes. He's there. My son, my Trent, is in heaven. He's still Trent, and he's in heaven, knowing what I can't begin to imagine, knowing what Jesus looks like, knowing God spirit to spirit, in heaven. He made it, he's there.

What I have been pondering, after I get over that fact, is that even in heaven our souls are incomplete. Better, by far, with no sin and being in the presence of your Savior, but still incomplete. As our pastor pointed out, and as I read in Revelation, the saints are crying out "How long, Oh Lord?" We were created to be complete with both soul and body: there are no bodies in heaven for those who have died. They, too, are waiting for Jesus to return to make all things right again; including receiving their resurrected bodies. "How long, Oh Lord?" we cry with them as we wait for Him, too.

In the past nine months I can hardly get my thoughts off of heaven and God. One foot here, one foot there; loving my children here, loving my children there. Trusting God for all of it. And the sweet Word of God, oh, the sweet Word. I feel the need to marinate in it, to soak it up by my whole being. It is powerful, and convicting, and life changing.

Eternity. Just imagine: eternity. There is no end to that word. There is an end to our lives here, but not to eternity. We put so much stock into this life, so much is invested here, when really, we should be investing there. What would it look like if Christians lived with eternity constantly on their minds? If we lived wondering, even expecting, what if today was the day we would enter that eternity, and see our God?

I feel like I am just waiting . . . waiting for eternity, or for Jesus to come back and make it all Right.

The Tears of the Saints

2011-12-01T14:20:00.004-06:00

. . . and as she stood behind {Jesus} weeping,
she began to wet his feet with her tears.
Luke 7:38a

How many tears would it take to wet a man's feet? To wet them enough to require the need of wiping them dry? And how humble must one be to bow and dry them with your own hair? And how great must be the sins, and the awareness of them, to cause all those tears in the first place?

I've cried; but never enough to wet more than my own face. I've wept over my sins; but never before a room full of mocking men. I've knelt before my Savior; but never have I kissed his feet.

"Now which of them will love Him more?" Jesus asked.
Simon replied, "I suppose the one who had the bigger debt canceled."
"You have judged correctly, " Jesus answered.

I weep this morning because my debt was cancelled. I weep this morning because I haven't wept enough before. I weep because I have never seen it so clearly; because there haven't been enough tears shed; because my debt is the bigger debt; because my Savior chose to cancel my son's debt.

Who will love Jesus more?

The one who had the bigger debt canceled.

Just Stand

2011-11-26T14:11:00.000-06:00

And after you have done everything; just stand.
from Ephesians 6:13

Just stand. Or lay. Or get on your knees. Sometimes there is nothing else to do. And as a "doer", doing nothing is the hardest thing in the world. So I {fitfully, anxiously, nervously} just stand.

Anxiety hits hard, and at unexpected times, like at 5:30 a.m. after Rob has already gotten out of bed and the dark is dark and the thoughts won't quit. What if God isn't there? What if eternity never comes? What if I am swallowed up today by this reality? What if the whispers of the enemy are true? Why can't I remember the rest of that verse about God being faithful and that Jesus is really coming back one day?Just stand.Although I feel withered, and beat, and tired and bent, I will still stand.

Just stand.

Stand firm in the Word, firm as the battle rages, firm as the shame heaps from within and my arms and my whole being feel weak; I will stand firm in my Savior's tight grip.

As Elijah (1 Kings 19), I resort back to simple rest. Food, coffee, a bed and a book. A needed respite from the world that continues to invade with it's never-ending demands. Rest for my weary soul, rest to fight the battle again, rest to remember the Promises.

I wait for the peace again, the calm in the storm. I wait to be renewed. I wait for the comforting whispers from a voice not my own. "Never will I leave you, never will I forsake you."

But as for me, I will always have hope.

I will praise You more and more.

My mouth will tell of your righteousness,

of Your salvation all day long,

though I know not its measure.

I will come and proclaim your mighty acts,

O Sovereign Lord;

I will proclaim Your righteousness, Yours alone.

Though You have made me see troubles,

many and bitter,

You will restore my life again.

My lips will shout for joy when I sing praise to You~

I, whom You have redeemed.

Sweet Promises from Psalm 71

Letting the Hurt, Hurt

2011-11-19T14:00:00.002-06:00

Today, again, grief just hurts. I don't know why I am so stubborn and refuse to realize that and so often try to stuff it instead. I just want to fight it, as if I could fight the pain. It just hurts. We were not ultimately created to know death; it is the deepest, darkest taste of sin. Death is too much reality of the world we live in; so much proof that this world is in need of a Savior to make it all right. Oh, that Jesus would come soon and make it right.

Some days I wonder why I had to be the one to experience this, to feel this, to live this. Why couldn't I just go on with my rose colored glasses living my merry little life? But then other days I praise God for waking me up; waking me up to reality. And I praise Him for showing me the brevity of life, and for showing me the way of salvation, and for showing me Trent's salvation, and for giving me hope beyond this pain.

God asked me if I trust Him. Do I really believe what He says? Do I really believe His plans are best? Do I really believe in eternity where all will be made right? "Yes, Lord, I do" is my weak reply as I lay in my bed trying to figure out how to get out of it this morning. Then let the hurt, hurt.

The tears come when I go to my knees to try to worship this Creator God; this God with His perfect plans of pain. He is good; so good that I can't even fathom how good. My words are not sufficient, only tears are. Tears that will one day be wiped away. Tears over sons, and lost souls, and faithful prayer warriors.

I Love You More

2011-11-15T14:30:00.000-06:00

If I love you more, will you love me less?
2 Corinthians 12:15

"I love you more." It's been a regular saying around our house for years. I think it started out with a little bunny book nearly a decade ago when we didn't know what tweens or teen-agers were. "I love you more." The battle still continues today, especially at bedtime, especially with a little tween girl. It's a good battle.

I heard God whisper it today as I sat in my broken recliner, drinking my hazelnut flavored coffee, looking out over the frosty yard, hair uncombed, listening to four kids (who were supposed to be) quietly working on school books, or lost in their own little world with God. "I love you. I love you more."

My morning rejoicing over Trent being in heaven has gone to a morning contentment lately; one can only stay on the mountaintop so long. Even rejoicing becomes exhausting. After nearly nine months I find (I know, I know, duh) that I keep coming back to the same reality: this is still real. It's not going to change. Trent is not here. Graciously, God continues to constantly point my eyes to Him, to His truths, to His joys, to eternity.

But it's a battle. A battle that becomes ferociously intense at times. So I praise the Lord that He made me too stubborn deep down in my genetic core to refuse a good fight. My husband can attest. As can my sister who is too much the same way.

God is the author and perfecter of our faith. What He uses to grow me may not be what He uses to grow you. But are you growing? Are you fighting? Have you bowed to Jesus as Lord?

This trial leads me to recite over and over and over again the promises of Scripture. I put no confidence in the flesh; my God is sovereign; it is God's will that I should be sanctified, therefor I put my hope in God alone; I will strive to be joyful in hope, patient in affliction and faithful in prayer because I know that this present grief and suffering won't even be worth comparing to the glory of Jesus Christ that will be revealed; throughout it all God is refining me and proving my faith (and Himself).

Salvation, and God's word, and Jesus Himself continue to be my greatest joy. I mostly look forward to eternity: not to next week, or next year, or when the goats are due, or the mortgage is paid off. I have never prayed "Lord, let your Kingdom come" with such a fervency and longing before this trial.

I stop often and look up at the stars and the moon at night. I have been known as of late to even stop on my walk up from the barn and just lay down in the cold grass to look up. Two kiddos looked at me odd the first time I was laying there, but soon found a comfortable spot of their own to gaze upon the heavens. One day I will know what the face of the God looks like who made those stars, and the sun, and the moon and put them in their place. Genesis 1:16 almost makes those little twinkling lights seem like an after thought when God was creating the universe. If the stars are the after thought, what then is the creation? What, then, is the worth of salvation? Especially considering that salvation cost the Creator His own Son?

It's as simple as "I love you, too, God." I think He wins. He does love me more. I'll just bask in that knowledge today.

Do You Think there are Tomato Schmears in Heaven?

2011-11-13T14:27:00.000-06:00

"And I know this man . . . who was caught up to paradise.

He heard inexpressible things, things that man is not permitted to tell."
2 Corinthians 12:3-4

Do you think there are tomato schmears in heaven? Do you think boys will still want to kick box with their moms? Do you think they will make that popping, kissing noise when you tuck them into bed at night? Do you think there are mud hills so I could slide down with my son, rather than ewe-ing about the dirt and just standing back and taking pictures? Do you think I could cover myself with mud and dive into the pond to rinse off? Do you think there will be duck boats so I can just sit back and enjoy the ride again with my boys at the oars?

Will there be mornings of breakfast in bed, with pudding and cool whip and a cherry on top? Will there be stairways so I can take a turn riding the mattress down? Or forts to build, or trees to climb, or homemade boats to sail, or short horses to ride, or four wheelers to get stuck? Will there be tents to pitch or squirrels to chase? Pheasant's to mount or big fish to catch? Rivers to explore and lakes to enjoy?

For an eternity I will be able to look out into a crowd and spot those ken-doll locks and expect a young man to walk up and put his arm around me and rub my lower back just because he loves his mom and knows I need him close. I will see the twinkle in his eyes again, the sparkle reflecting from his Savior, as we go forth without the fear of death. If mud hills and duck boats and silly boys were this good this side of heaven, what must the other side be like?

Cat Tails in the Pond

2011-11-12T14:24:00.002-06:00

There were cat tails in the pond this summer. I just noticed them today. A whole season has nearly passed and another one will soon begin. And I feel as if I have finally looked around to realize it. The pond is a mess; the grass is shoulder high, the green moss is thick in the water, and the other half of the dock still hasn't found it's permanent home. I can't recall if I even sat under the little arbor on the island to enjoy coffee and my Bible once this past summer. And the cabin sight . . . it looks a lot the same.

I took a walk and hid today. I know~ mother's probably shouldn't do that, but my kids are old enough that I can hide once in a while. I just sat and watched the world go by. And took pictures. I can usually gage my emotional/spiritual well being by how many pictures I take and if I am writing or not. Even grocery lists and school schedules count; goofy, happy stuff is even better; lamenting is healing and rejoicing in Jesus is the best.

As I sat in the weeds I wondered why projects and ponds ever mattered so much anyway. And then I realized why as I recalled and treasured the memories of this pond: the day that we laughed {and grumped} so hard hauling supplies in the little duck boat to build the arbor with five kids; a full dock that sat in my driveway for months as a special anniversary gift until it was cut in two and put in place so I could walk over to my island; planting blue flowers that never grew in a "victory over death" garden for a son I love and miss; ducks laying on rotten eggs for months; Canadian geese flying in for a landing; catching and releasing entangled wild ducklings; big brothers carrying little sisters across near-frozen water before there was a dock just because she wanted to stand on the island with the big kids; ice skating and shoveling snow; mud slides and a dozen muddy kids; treasure hunts and swimming, smiles and friends and dreams.

And I wondered how to begin feeling again. How to live again. How to find joy here again. I realize joy here is so temporary. It's not the things of this world that we should focus on or invest in to find our joy; it's the people, the occasions, the relationships, the eternities changed and the God who changes them. I realized, also, that this is a time to work; a time to work for the coming Kingdom. All that we see here will pass away, maybe sooner than we think, and our opportunities will be over. As like the fleeting days of childhood, that seem some days as if they will never end, and then do end; all too quickly. Soon, our days will end, or Jesus will return and there will be no more opportunities. What is done for the Kingdom now will be done; there will be no second chances to live this life again.

The other day we were discussing the importance of salvation, obedience to the words in the Bible, the joy found in repentance,the reality of eternity, how Jesus lived in His time here, and how grateful we were that God is sovereign and that He has opened our eyes to the brevity of life when we are still young enough to change our focus. Don't you discuss those things at your dining room table? We were also discussing the millennial reign of Jesus. The thousand years that Scripture says Jesus will reign on this earth before the final judgement.

Can you imagine it? I barely can. I realized that I will get to do what I love, all the things God made me to love, forever. Even goats, and kids, and ponds, and cabin sights. But it will all be without the curse. There will be no more draining spiritual battles to fight, sins to repent of, or children who die. The things unseen will be seen; I will walk face to face, hand in hand with my Savior.

But this is still the battle zone. So I fight; even it's by just hiding for a while and taking pictures.

Dance Before Your King

2011-11-10T14:20:00.002-06:00

My little sister sent over some pictures of Trent the other day. They came on a good day, a smiling day. I didn't even cry over them, until I saw Brenda and tried to thank her.

Grief is such an unpredictable monster; silently sleeping some days, roaring other days, lying under the surface threatening to burst often times, paralyzing to the whole mind and body when it wants to be. We were discussing the other day the physical pain of grief itself. There is a literal aching in my arms to feel Trent again, and my chest is constantly sore, probably from trying to hold it all in, and then finally letting it out. The exhaustion is overwhelming as well. I try to protect from "extras" as much as I can so that I can just commit myself full time to this process.

I strive to remember that it is God Himself who has ordained the pain, the ache, the memories. Maybe the pain is just a taste of the curse of sin that I have spent my whole life getting used to, and now am seeing just a touch of the reality of that fatal first bite (Genesis 3).

Pappa Murphy's about did me in the other day. It should not be that difficult to walk in and order a family size Canadian Bacon with black olives and a cinnamon wheel. But after the young man took my order I had to turn around and study the menu lest the tears start. And then the stuffed pizza options taunted me even more. I've never ordered alone at Pappa Murphy's. There was always a young boy, with his swagger and Ken-doll locks, who opened the door and stood by my side as they made our Cowboy pizza. I didn't let the tears fall until we were driving down the freeway in the dark, with the radio turned up, with a teen-age girl by my side holding the pizza on her lap instead.

But then an hour of sweet conversation followed. Promises amongst the pain. Hope through the tears. Eternities ahead to forget these struggles. A Savior to look forward to. A God who ordains all things perfectly.

I've smiled the last two days. Smiled for a son in heaven. I take the days as they come; one at a time. I can't live them any other way. Deer hunting opener and big, hungry guys in orange suits will come when they come. And if they all sit around my table eating chili, but not taco soup, this year and we all cry~ so be it. Big brothers have big shoulders. They loved him, too. When Thanksgiving comes and there's an extra seat at the SPOONS table, and nobody is on that end to catch the flying silverware, and we all sit and cry~ so be it. Maybe we'll laugh, too, and pretend that he's teaching David and Gideon how to play. I can't go so far ahead as the annual "Wisconsin tan/tattoo revealing" December swimming party, either, or the following Christmas celebration at Grandma's house. That day will come when that day comes.

I was paralyzed by the fear in the middle of the night last night. Sheer panic. What if I wake up one day and God's grace isn't sufficient? Prayers, pleas, and promises go through my mind. And then God answers a specific request, and Rob rolls over and holds me. Maybe he was scared, too. Maybe he was reaching, too.

But then there are days that I dance. Like David, with all my might, I dance (2 Samuel 6:14). It doesn't matter who's watching. It doesn't matter if they understand the dance or not. The music is playing triumphantly; maybe there's even a trumpet I hear in that band. A choir of angel's are singing. So I dance; I dance before my King.

Longing All the More

2011-11-08T14:17:00.001-06:00

This is what the Lord says, He who made the earth, the Lord who formed it

and established it~ the Lord is His name:

"Call to Me and I will answer you and tell you great and unsearchable things you do not know."
Jeremiah 33:2-3

My eyes are focused on heaven today. At the same time my mind and my hands are here to love and nurture those that God gave me to love and nurture. A gal commented to me the other day that we will eventually get over this period of grief where all we think about is heaven and being there ourselves one day. She assured me that I would live enjoying this world again. I'm not sure that I want to get back to that point. If that is the desired goal of grieving, just to live here, then I rather prefer to stay where I'm at.

The temptation to consider every day of the rest of my life nearly overtook me. From this perspective of the still fresh pain of grief, I was almost consumed in the pain of considering how to fight this fight every single day that I wake up here without Trent. I almost ran ahead, worrying about tomorrow, forgetting what God has already done in the past every single day that I have woke up without Trent here. God brought me back to here; to this very moment, to this taste of His grace, to this overwhelming peace. He assured me that it would be there then, too, but not until I got there and needed it.

I look around and watch others living, grieving, seeking God. I observe the similarities of how God works, as well as the diversity of it. God has narrowed my "window" down to the immediate: my family. He's closed me in, so to speak, and shown me the importance of these little souls. This is the "world" that He has called me to. Not to a foreign land; He has brought the foreign land to me. This is my mission field. If I fail here, I am no good "out there". When I am faithful here, He let's anything that's left overflow to touch lives. And He has blessed me in the overflow; I am daily praising Him for that overflow.

At times, my "window" opens a crack and I rejoice in the glimpses of the good works I see Him performing. For friends who encourage and pray, for lives that are touched when all I want to do is hide on my little goat farm, for grown men who repent, for teen-age girls He has allowed me to watch as He transforms their lives, for little hearts who are grieving, too, and the mother that cries out to Him to give her the grace and wisdom to keep on loving.

And then I long for heaven even more, and the day I will see clearly all of His good works.

Smiling Again

2011-11-07T14:13:00.001-06:00

Praise the Lord, all you nations;
extol him, all you peoples.
For great is His love towards us;
and the faithfulness of the Lord
endures forever.
Praise the Lord.

Psalm 117

I woke up smiling this morning. A smile on my lips and from my whole being, inside and out. I had almost forgotten what that felt like; the beaming, the joy, the freedom. I had dreamt about Trent. I woke up with him still in my arms. And then I remembered that he was in heaven. And I praised my God for it. I praised Him for a son in heaven while my arms clung to my empty chest and the smile stayed, inside and out. Then I went to my knees and praised God again; for his sovereign plans, for the good works still left for me to do, for an eternity to look forward to, for another day to trust Him, for more opportunities to share about Jesus, for children and a husband still here to minister to, for a son in heaven. The sun beamed through my bedroom window, as if to celebrate with me, and to announce the glory of God in the coming day. It feels good to smile again.

To Smile Again

2011-11-03T14:11:00.001-05:00

I don't know, anymore, how to delight in the simple joys of this life. I can only vaguely recall what it felt like to get out of bed with my only thought being that of looking forward to coffee, and sneaking down the stairs before the kids or the dogs woke up to enjoy the quiet of the morning curled up with my Bible in the recliner. I can't remember what it felt like to just play with my kiddos who are still here without this dull ache in my chest, or the fear of loving them so much, or enjoying them too much, or praying such big things for their lives. To all curl up on the couch with a good book used to be a treasure, now the thought brings tears. Pizza-and-movie night often finds me avoiding looking at the corner of the couch that Trent always claimed. I can hardly remember what it used to be like.

Or maybe I can, and that's what scares me.

I'm smiling on the outside, but the inside still hurts.

I've Seen Their Faces

2011-11-01T14:06:00.002-05:00

I spoke to a young man this past weekend about Trent's death. A young man, a teenager, who did not know God when he was allowed to be a role model in my son's life without even realizing it. A young man, whom I am not even sure if he knows my God yet.

But I saw his face.

I saw his jaw clench. I saw the words penetrating his very soul. I saw the fight between his pride and the tears stinging behind his eyes. Then they started . . . one by one. Tears dripping down a handsome face of a young man being broken by God. A young man that saw too clearly everything his parents diligently tried to teach him all these years was true. A young man who sin not very long ago threatened to rule, who was steeped in that sin until the stench filled the very church he has attended for years; the very church that embraced him and forgave him and loved him still when he repented. I saw his face. It revealed his heart.

Then I saw another man.

A stoic man, a man that refuses to have his heart revealed. A man who preaches it, but is not allowed to live it. A man that cannot bring himself to reveal the tears, or feel the touch of an embrace, or let the hurt run deep enough to be shattered. I fear for this man; the man with the Bible in his hand, the man without tears.

Light And Momentary

2011-11-01T13:59:00.001-05:00

We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus,
so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body.
For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus' sake,
so that his life may be revealed in our mortal body.
2 Corinthians 4:10-11

We forget that the men who were inspired by the Holy Spirit to pen the New Testament were Jesus' friends. Flesh and blood, walked by His side, ate with the Savior, watched Him bleed, friends. Two-thousand-and-some years later it is pretty easy to pour a cup of coffee, with extra cream and sugar, and curl up in our recliner's and read these words. But this was their friend. Death is cruel; crucifixion crueler yet. It was under that vivid memory that they walked their walk and preached their gospel.

It is written "I believed; therefore I have spoken."
With that same spirit of faith we also believe and therefore speak,
because we know that the one who raised the Lord Jesus from the dead
will also raise us with Jesus and present us with you in His presence.
2 Corinthians 4:13-14

You cannot live the same after experiencing death. And after experiencing a resurrection . . . it goes without saying, your life would change. I know that Trent will rise again one day because of what Scripture says (2 Cor 4:14). I know that my life has changed because of experiencing his death. I can no longer live as if this world matters and will last forever, when right before my eyes there is too much evidence that it does not. There is more. Jesus is the "more". God proved it by raising Him from the dead.

For our light and momentary troubles
are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.

So we fix our eyes not on what is seen,
but on what is unseen.
For what is seen is temporary,
but what is unseen is eternal.
2 Corinthians 4:17-18

Do you live for the "seen", or the "unseen"? Do you groan, longing to be rid of these mere earthly tents that we live in, longing to be clothed with your heavenly dwelling (2 Cor. 5:1-2)? Do you long to see that glory? The eternal glory that far outweighs anything here?

We live by faith, not by sight.
We are confident, I say, and would prefer to be away from the body
and at home with the Lord.

So we make it our goal to please Him,
whether we are at home in the body or away from it.

For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ,
that each one may receive what is due him for the things done while in the body,
whether good or bad.
2 Corinthians 5:7-10

I feel the shame creeping in even writing these words. I fear that "man" will not be pleased to hear them again. I fear for the deaf ears that they will fall on, for the hardened hearts that will refuse them again, the dull souls that will ignore them. The warning has gone out; the choice is yours, the choice is mine. This day . . . yet again this day, there is still hope, there is still time to call on the One who can change your heart. His name is Jesus.
Be reconciled to God.

God made {Jesus} who had no sin to be sin for us,
so that in Him we might become the righteousness of God.
2 Corinthians 5:21

Do you even understand that? Do you understand the depravity of sin? Your own sin? I cannot begin to see the depth of it, yet it is simple enough for a child to understand. We have sinned, Jesus paid the penalty of an eternity in Hell for us somehow through His death on the cross, and proved the power of God when He was resurrected from that death, and He said He is returning one day in judgment. Sound the warning, shout it in the streets, repent and be saved! Beg God to open your eyes, live for Him who matters.

As God's fellow workers we urge you not to recieve God's grace in vain.
I tell you, now is the time of God's favor,
now is the day of salvation.
2 Corinthians 6:1 and 2b

I have seen death. I have felt its sting. I have known it's reality. I have seen the hard faces that refused to be changed by it; I fear for those souls. Be changed. Let God change you. Give up whatever you are clinging to here in this world. Turn to God. Surrender today; the day that He is still offering salvation.

All too Real

2011-10-31T13:57:00.001-05:00

So often lately I wake up in a panic that Trent isn't here. And more so because I can't remember him vividly being here, and "here" now means no Trent. I woke up this morning in the middle of some dream that he wasn't in, and I couldn't get my brain to figure out how to put him in it. I couldn't figure out how he would fit even if he was in it. I gasp for breath as I cry for my son. I raise my hands as I praise my God. I tell God I want to shut this blog off. I don't want to be real anymore, God. I just want to go hide somewhere. He says No. I don't know how, God, I can't lead; but He still says No. Grieve real, Terri. If you quit you'll only stuff. Walk it real. Fighting brothers still here make it all too real. Eternity will be real quicker than any of us can imagine. They're not ready. Have they forgotten that they can never get the morning back? Have they forgotten that even kids die and face judgement before God? Cherish each other; give your little brother the stupid whatever it is, help him button his shirt and find his Bible for church. Sitting in the church pew the tears threaten, both over the song and over reaching out and only finding four kiddos. Not remembering, and then remembering all too well. My outstretched arm reaches for God. Come now, Lord, come now. Some days I can't reach high enough.

Joyful, Patient, and Faithful

2011-10-29T13:50:00.002-05:00

Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord.
Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.
Romans 12:11-12

It has come to my attention that there are certain people out there who have been waiting with much anticipation for a rip-roaring blog post after an amazing God conversation. Or maybe such person just wanted to butter me up for a free Aunt Terri babysitter. Either way, my brain could use some sorting. So, here we go, just some thoughts and observations from the past week on this bizarre walk of grief.

What keeps coming to my mind over and over again, after having several conversations about Trent's accident, is the thought: "You don't have to apologize for my Sovereign God." Right, wrong, politically correct or not, that has been where my brain keeps returning. Next week it will probably come up with another theological nugget to turn and polish and find God's glory in, but this week it is the observation of the lack of joy (or trust, or belief, or plain-old not knowing) in God's good plans for His children.

I can count on one hand (well, probably, my brain doesn't work so well these days to remember stuff) the number of people who were happy to hear the news that Trent died, even those who knew he was saved and therefor in heaven. And I know all the "we're sorry for you, we're sad for you, we're crying 'cause Jesus cried when Lazarus died" lines. They are the nice words to say, they are a natural response, and we should cry when somebody dies. But hardly anybody smiles and says, "Hooray for God's sovereign plans! Hooray for Heaven!" Even eight months later.

I'm scared of getting bitter. I guess that would be considered the required Anger Step that everybody who experiences a tragic death is supposed to go through. "Be mad at God, He can take it." The problem is, tho, I am having a really hard time finding that verse in my Bible. Doesn't that sort of turn the tables and put us right back on top of being in charge of the whole intricate workings of the entire universe rather than God being the one in charge?? It screams that my ways are better than His, rather than what Scripture says, that His ways are better than ours (Isaiah 55:8-9).

As my sister Traci reminded me in my whining the other day, "Have you forgotten you are a daughter of the King?"

Well, yes, actually I had, and a good swift kick in the behinder was what I needed. My Heavenly Father is the King. The King of all Kings, actually. He said so in His book, the Bible. And somewhere there is another book that has my name written in it. "Terri, my precious one, the one I love, the one I have good plans for; plans not to harm her but for her good. Plans to reveal Myself in her, and through her. Plans to reveal Myself in a way that she could never know Me without. Plans to give her hope and a future. Plans to answer her prayers for her son's salvation."

Grief is exhausting. The battle is real, the soul is weary, the mind can't handle much extra. This world is a distraction as of late. It's trinkets don't charm me anymore. I barely notice it's glimmering attraction. But God consumes me. Somebody mentioned the other day how sorry they were for me, how I looked like I had lost so much weight, was it the stress she wondered?

"My dear Christian sister," I wanted to tell her, "don't you know this God of ours is greater than even death? Have you not tasted of Him and found Him to be better and bigger and greater? Do you doubt that He would carry His children?" But as words so often fail me in speech, I could only gather my eight months of experiencing the tip-of-the-iceberg of God's glory being revealed before my very eyes by saying, "Food hasn't mattered so much lately. I have been consumed by God." She looked at me strange. "It's a good thing," I assured her.

And you all thought you were watching me in my little fishbowl. The observation of grief, especially in Christians, is just as interesting on this end.

And here's another thought . . .

Do we create yet another idol when we seek God's glory, or ways to glorify Him (as if we could bring Him any more glory by our mere deeds), rather than seeking just Jesus? Does our striving to bring glory to God through what we are trying to do for Him really become a works based faith that we have mastered to try to win our Father's loving affection? Somehow we have been duped to think that He doesn't love us enough to pry our fingers off of this world if He causes pain. I have seen just the opposite: the pain is the love of God. Pain is how He sanctifies His children, and how He shines His glory through them (Zec 13:9).

Just splitting some more hairs between the sinful nature and the God of the universe and finding myself revealed more of a sinner than I thought I was yesterday.

I don't know where this post will find you today; saved by Jesus, not saved, seeking Him or running away or not even knowing that you really don't know Him. I can't even begin to fathom where God chooses to bring these rambling words of mine. But I pray for you often, dear reader. I pray that the Holy Spirit moves how He said He would move~ through the Word, through honesty, through shattered lives.

Since it will all reveal God's glory someday, it is under God's sovereign hand, and if it means eternities will be changed, then "Here I am, Lord. Shatter me."

As A Child

2011-10-26T13:41:00.000-05:00

For the wages of sin is death,
But the gift of God is eternal life
In Christ Jesus our Lord.
Romans 6:23

Micah and I were working on memorizing Romans 6:23 yesterday. I found that I really don't know how to clearly present the gospel to a six year old, let alone explain to him how our bodies can stay here when we die, and yet we can still live in heaven until we get our new ones. I couldn't quite find the words to explain the depravity of the human soul before salvation, either. Trying to explain sin and the offenses so great against a Holy God that an eternity in Hell is the only just punishment? Ummm . . . hitting your brother?

He listened, and the wheels of his little brain were spinning. He could connect sin, it turns out there wasn't much that needed to be explained. That squirming when I first mentioned the word revealed his heart. "For the wages of sin is death." God only owes us punishment for what we've done, like when Mommy has to discipline you when you've been naughty. He got that part.

And then the gift . . . "But the gift of God is eternal life." His birthday is coming up, so he understood gifts. But trying to put the glorious gift of salvation into simple terms, a gift that would last for eternity, a gift that I can't even fully comprehend, was challenging. To try to explain to him how God gave Trent that gift, and yet Trent is gone, and to six year old boys disappearing and never coming back home is a scary thing. But this is a good gift, Micah. The best gift.

I tried to explain (tried, because my brain has a hard time processing it fully) how we can be in heaven with God, and that's a good thing, fabulous thing, yet it means being away from Mommy and that's okay because you're with God. It's even okay for Trent. It's even okay when we all miss him so much because God said it was okay.

And then I tried to explain eternity . . . forever, and ever, and ever, and ever. And how important it was to decide what we were going to do with this gift from God now because it would make a difference throughout that forever.

The best news of all is that it is a gift from God that is only found "in Christ Jesus our Lord." Now, if trying to explain sin and depravity, and eternity and salvation to this kiddo was hard, imagine trying to explain the very Son of God without misrepresenting Him.

But I think he got it. On some six year old level, he got it. Jesus is good, sin is bad, eternity is a long, long time, and salvation matters.

For the wages of sin is death,
But the gift of God is eternal life
In Christ Jesus our Lord.
Romans 6:23

The Father has sent His Son
To be the Savior of the world.
1 John 4:14

And Then Came Facebook

2011-10-25T13:38:00.000-05:00

I was doing okay. I was breathing normally. I was content to wait on God. And then came facebook. Just a couple of goofy pictures on somebodies sister's facebook page from two years ago that somebody else thought I would appreciate. And I did. And than I showed Rob. And he had to leave before we all saw a grown man cry. And I stuffed it, because people were watching and best friends of twelve-year-old boys shouldn't see a grown woman cry~ it scares them, believe me. Do you know how hard this is? Some days it's harder than others. I miss that goofy kid so much.

Just Sustain Me, Lord

2011-10-24T13:33:00.002-05:00

For you were once darkness,
but now you are light in the Lord.
Live as children of light and find out what pleases the Lord.
Ephesians 5:8-10

I woke up again barely able to breath this morning. Panic attacks, anxiety, grief, womanhood; give it whatever label you want. My flight response wants to escape, but there is no where to run.

As a prisoner for the Lord, then,
I urge you to live a life worthy of the calling you have received.
Ephesians 4:1

I have no choice, the Holy Spirit continually yields my heart back to God. I am constantly forced to check my heart, check my motives, line them up with God's Word. I am constantly found wanting. My flesh screams out the injustice of this life and the pain it brings. My greed longs for it all to be about me; for it all to be my way.

But to each one of us grace has been given as Christ apportioned it.
Ephesians 4:7

After the tears, I can begin to feel the grace. The things I can't say, I will have to trust the Spirit to relay. The real hurts, the depth of that pain, even if it's only the pain of my pride being exposed, are washed clean in the presence of my Savior Jesus. My fear of rejection is forgotten as my eyes are turned back to Christ and the Cross. He said I am His. He said to follow Him how He leads. He has called me precious.

Surely you heard of Him
and were taught in Him
in accordance with the truth that is in Jesus.

You were taught, with regard to your former way of life,
to put off your old self,
which is being corrupted by its deceitful desires,
to be made new in the attitude of your minds;

and to put on the new self,
created to be like God
in true righteousness and holiness.
Ephesians 4:20-24

I am not called to follow Christ as an imitator of how others are. We have all been given gifts, we have all been created in God's image to reflect Him in who He made us. He has prepared us individually for our very own works of service so that the body of Christ may be built up (Ephesians 4:11-13). When I stray from who He made me, how He has called me, how He leads, and try to copy somebody elses walk, then I have successfully failed to bring God any glory; I doubt the very intricate making's of the soul that He has made me.

I do doubt when the pain rises, and I feel the hurts and the rebellion in my heart, that God will use it for good. But somehow He does. After the tears I can hear His sweet, soft voice comforting, leading, admonishing, rebuking, loving; clearly perfect in exposing my deceitful heart. The Word that never fails, the hand that always leads, my God who always loves me and forgives.

Today, I am just broken. And broken is okay, because I know the One who fixes "broken".

This is Grief

2011-10-20T13:28:00.002-05:00

The thought dons on me regularly: Trent is still Trent. And then I begin to wonder for the umpteenth time where he is. Where heaven is. Where God is, where God dwells face to face with His children. And then I miss him, again. And then I wonder about what heaven is like, and what he's doing and experiencing, and about the things that he knows but I can't even begin to imagine.

And then the fear sets in.

I read that the first year of grief is covered by so much denial that you can't really even feel it; that the reality barely begins to sink in. The second year is harder, they tell me. And then this week I met a couple who lost their child several years ago. The tears still rose in their eyes and the day at the hospital was still vivid as they told me about it. But then they looked at me strange when I began to talk about my joy of Trent being in heaven.

I fear that I am missing something here. Aren't Christians supposed to be excited about going to heaven? I fear that doubt really will sneak in. I fear that one day I, too, will begin to think that God is not good and sovereign and that this world really is the only forever. Where are the stories of those who believe in the Promises of Scripture during times of deep suffering? I can't find them. I don't want any more nicey-nicey faith stories. I want the warriors. Those who stood fast to the Word of God. I barely even see the Word of God in those grief stories, let alone the gospel, or sin, or eternity. Where are you Christians? Who is fighting this battle with us?

I fear seeing God for the first time only to have not believed whole-heartedly every single word that He said. I fear being so content with what I can see here that I quit lamenting over my son being gone, because ultimately it was sin that lead to death, and I was able to somehow find that normal.

"Do you see him now?" Lucy Pevensie asked Trumpkin in Prince Caspian when they all stood on the shore of that river before the great Aslan himself. Yes, he saw him now.

I want to stand before God proclaiming that I never doubted His plan. That I did fight. That I did believe. That I knew He only did things for my good and His glory in my life. That I did trust His hand that was leading. I want to stand before Trent, holding him in my arms, telling him of what God did with his life and death, how I missed him, how I always knew he was in heaven and was rejoicing that he made it. That because of it I fought the fight harder. I long to let go of all that hinders here so I can run the race well, for the prize that matters.

I don't want to be entertained anymore, world. I don't want to be comforted by the only hope being that grief gets easier with time, or that my faith is so "nice" and it's good to see that I think there's a god somewhere out there. I don't want my tears to be in vain. I don't want to become apathetic. I want to live with my eyes wide open to eternity that will come only too soon.

I want to live smiling because my son is in heaven and I trust the God who was gracious enough to bring him there to be gracious enough to pour out His mercies in my life until the day that He chooses to bring me there. I want to feel the depth of the raw pain that God ordained. I want to know Him in the deeper parts that can only be known through this suffering. I will not trade perishable rewards for eternal ones. I will settle for nothing less. No tarnished wordly trinkets can compare.

I only want Jesus and all that He promised.

Just Breathe

2011-10-20T13:26:00.000-05:00

Grief is like a vice. I feel it squeezing in too tight sometimes. I feel it wrapping itself around my chest, then crawling it's way up into my throat, the dull ache and the too common stinging in my eyes until the tears are barely contained. I try to shut off the thoughts that bring it on, then I realize that it's no use. I might as well think them and go forth. I might as well feel the pain and cry the tears. And when it's over, then I can just breathe. In, out, in, out. Just breathe.

Another first today. The first day of going back to work in eight months. My employer has been so generous to allow me as much time off as I needed, and I probably wouldn't have had to even gone back today. But it was time. Time to just face it, do it, cross off another first. To feel the love and the hugs, to answer the dreaded "how are you" question, to drive the same drive, pray the same prayers, park in the same parking lot, punch the same time clock, walk the same halls as the day the phone call came. And all those ladies . . . if only they didn't have to be so wonderful, if only there weren't so many mother's with their arm's open wide who have been broken, too, for us the past eight months. Who have lifted up prayers and well wishes and really wanted to know how I was. Some smiled, some cried, some know my God, some don't, some agreed, too, that the world should have stopped when my son died.

I didn't realize how much I was stuffing until I turned back onto our road heading home after my shift and realized that I would walk in the door this time and hug all of my children who are still here. This time wouldn't be like last time. This time when I walked in the door I wouldn't have to ask if my son was dead or not. I wouldn't have to call my Mom or Traci or Jerry or go to Duluth. I could delight my children with fudgsicles instead and go play outside in the sunshine with them. I could live. If I could just stop crying. Just breathe, just breathe, just breathe. One. Breath. At. A. Time.

Better Than a Hallelujah

2011-10-18T13:19:00.002-05:00

The honest cry of a breaking heart is better than a Hallelujah
Amy Grant, "Better than a Hallelujah"

Writing is a release for me. Freedom, in a sense, to let things go. A record to see where God has taken me. My struggle with blogging has always been to write for myself, with the glory going to God in it, without the fear of man. So I shut the comments off, again, and allow myself to be where God has me. It's good to lay these thoughts down. It's good to stop carrying them, thinking them, trying to remember them, to quit being scared of forgetting them . . .

Lately I have found that the high of rejoicing is turning to a stoic contentment, contentment to steadfastness, and steadfastness to a hope that is still full of much underlying joy, all tinged with a deep missing of Trent and the sorrow of grief. It's always there, and I assume it always will be. I feel a deep resolve setting in. I refuse, in my genetic stubborness, to let God's glory get out of sight as the days, weeks, and months pass by. I refuse to let this become normal. How is it normal that your son dies? Do we not get used to sin being normal, then, if our only hope is to strive to learn how to function normally after losing a child?

The reality of eternity is already losing it's impact, though, as much as I thought it never would or could. It has barely even been my first thoughts the past few days. I woke up this morning and realized that already eternity wasn't as vivid as it was eight months ago.

Eight months. It's been eight months today. I can remember when it hadn't even been eight days. I remember sitting in the front pew at the funeral looking at Trent's body beside me in the coffin, thinking, "It's been six days already, Trent's been in heaven for six days." I am sure when it's been eight years, and more, I will be thinking, "It's been eight years already." I don't want eternity to lose it's impact. I don't want to live without heaven being my forethought in everything. I don't want to live as if death is normal.

God said,
"Even to your old age and gray hairs I am HE, I am HE who will sustain you. I have made you, and I will carry you. I will sustain you, and I will rescue you."
Isaiah 46:4

I went to my knees again this morning, down on the floor, face to the ancient wooden boards. I went in obedience. I long for obedience, and I detest myself for being so dull to hear and obey God's voice. What did He say? Am I really being faithful? Have I really listened? I long to see the grand plan of all of this. I don't know how one twelve year old boy, one night of talking at the dining room table and one changed heart after many years of prayers, then one skiing trip followed by {probably} many more years of tears can result in God's glory. I don't know how the Holy Spirit moves to cause repentance through that, let alone salvation.

Salvation occured yet again under our rooftop over the weekend. As I slept in my bed upstairs, God was doing His work dowstairs. Teenage girls sat giggling while deciding which movie to watch next, and then the topic changed, and an eternity changed. I am baffled. I am amazed. I stand in awe to be a vessel of that kind of work.

I spent the day lamenting. Uncontrollable tears for years of pain that I can't understand, tears for the fear of people that I can't do anything to change, tears that wouldn't stop. Tears for people that I can't reach, souls that I am not even sure that God wants me to try to reach, as odd as that seems. People where I have no ability to even minister when I am in their midst.

I lamented for the trappings of their lives, the trappings of their own choosing in a way, and the blindness that sin causes. I cried because I have felt the pain of that trapping, and because I long for their freedom, and because I am terrified that I am being trapped as well. As polite Christians we don't say names, we don't point out each other's sins, we barely even dare to call sin, sin anymore. But it's still sin, and sin still traps, and God does not bless disobedience. Until there is open repentance and confession it will continue.

Events of the past eight months have been rolling through my brain. Faces of teenage boys come to mind. One young man at the funeral, who had been on the skiing trip with Trent, crying uncontrollably, admitting to me that he knew he would be in hell if it had been him. His mother, looking on, praying I am sure, as she must long for salvation for her children as much as I long for salvation for mine. I haven't seen him since. I don't know if God chose to save him or not.

Another young man, another friend of Trent's that had been on the trip that Friday, who was also at the funeral. I have seen him several times since, I have asked him repeatedly where he would be, where he is with God, and I have gotten the same answer. And still he refuses to accept grace and salvation. He can't accept grace and salvation until God grants it to Him. So I keep praying for him, this boy whom I could love as my own. Why some, and not others, God?

I think of pastors, four of them and their wives, who have not had the time in eight months to ask how I am, who have not allowed us to share our joy with them, to share God's good work with them. Then there's the church lady who has only cared to ask about who my sister is dating now than how severe our hearts are breaking, how God has moved, how He has sustained.

Cousins, friends, aunts, uncles, grandparents, neices, nephews, fellow teen-age football players: their faces come before me. I wonder where they are spiritually. I wonder if they remember the songs, the sermons, the power of that day. I wonder if they have considered their own eternity.

I think of the people who continue to search for Trent's name nearly every day on the world wide web and find the blog. I wonder about others that are sent here by some simple search for making soap or feeding calves, and find the gospel instead. I wonder if I present the gospel clearly. I wonder about how God moves. I wonder how my breaking heart makes a difference. I long for God to use it to make a difference.

There was a missionary who spoke at our church the other day. One thing, especially, that he said has stayed with me. He talked about mission minded churches, and stated that the only way that a churches light {of the gospel} could shine all the way to the other ends of the earth was if it shone strong and bright at home, which is the source.

I thought about how easy it is to "shine" our gospel across a pretty computer page. Or to send money to the orphans in India. And then I wondered if I shine bright close to home. More and more God has revealed my "missions" field as my children and husband. The day will come, Lord willing, when again I am called to sign up for every project at church, but for now I am called to shine where I am at home.

Days without the distraction of a computer has left more time for prayer and for visiting. I have been inducted into a group of women in our community who have lost children. There are too many of us in our little town. God has renewed my heart for them in these past couple of weeks.

Grief is lonely. Sometimes lonely is easier than awkward, though. Who else could understand (well, besides aunts, and a few certain other's)? To overhear two mother's who have lost children discussing phone calls and hospitals and funerals and month's of grief would be an odd conversation for an outsider. Especially mother's who are happy that their son's are in heaven.

Now I'm rambling, which must mean that it's time to go make some peanut butter cookies with my little dumpling's who are still this side of heaven.

God loves a lulluby
In a mother's tears in the dead of night
Better than a Hallelujah sometimes

God loves the drunkard's cry
The soldier's plea not to let him die
Better than a Hallelujah sometimes

We pour out our miseries
God just hears a melody
Beautiful, the mess we are
The honest cries of breaking hearts
Are better than a Hallelujah

The woman holding on for life
The dying man giving up the fight
Are better than a Hallelujah sometimes

The tears of shame for what's been done
The silence when the words won't come
Are better than a Hallelujah sometimes

We pour out our miseries
God just hears a melody
Beautiful the mess we are
The honest cries of breaking hearts
Are better than a Hallelujah

Better than a church bell ringing
Better than a choir singing out, singing out
We pour out out miseries
God just hears a melody

Beautiful, the mess we are
The honest cries of breaking hearts
Are better than a Hallelujah

We pour out our miseries
God just hears a melody
Beautiful, the mess we are
The honest cries of breaking hearts

Are better than a Hallelujah (Better than a Hallelujah sometimes)
Better than a Hallelujah (Better than a Hallelujah sometimes)

I Can't Even Imagine

2011-10-05T13:11:00.002-05:00

The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law.
But thanks be to God!
He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.
Therefore, my dear brothers, stand firm.
Let nothing move you.

Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord,
because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain.
1 Corinthians 15:56-58

I have found myself praising God so many times over the past couple of days for how Trent died. I'm sure that has to sound morbid. I could never have imagined myself even thinking those words eight months ago about my son. But over the last couple of days I have seen, again, the grace of God to ordain Trent's life and death the way that He did. Even in death God pours out His mercies on His children.

Over the past year and a half there have been five accidental deaths of young men just in the extended circle of our little community. Most of those deaths have been horrendous, and the parents have suffered much. And more so, I don't know that God revealed the clarity of those young men's salvation. Knowing that Trent is in heaven still makes grief hard; not knowing~ I couldn't even imagine.

Hearing of the twelve year old boy who died over the weekend has begun to sink in. I want to shut off the thoughts of that mother's pain. I don't want to think of her walking this road. I wouldn't know what to say to her if I could. I come back to the truths of God's sovereignty. I do not have to try to explain away why God does what He does, I only have to trust Him for who He is and that His plans are far better than my own.

I have been pondering First Peter the last couple of days. I have been pondering God's glory, and eternity, and how we live our lives here. I have been able to grasp {in a teeny, tiny, minute way} the honor of suffering in anticipation of God's glory that will be revealed throughout eternity for it. I can't even get the complete concept of God's glory to register in my brain~ what is it? How is it manifested? What is the depth of it?

Matthew 13:43 says that the righteous will shine like the sun in the kingdom of their Father . . . what must God's glory be like in it's fullness if His children's righteousness will be as bright as the sun? How will it look without sin to blind us from it? At 93 some million miles away from the sun it was still 84 degrees in Wisconsin yesterday~ what does that look like close up? What does that look like translated into glory? What would that look like even if it was only 92 million miles away?

And then, why do I not just rest in this eternal God? Oh, that He would continue to draw me near. First Peter 2:4 says that God's children are precious to Him. Precious. Not just tolerated, not servants, not only children, but precious children. He calls us to entrust ourselves, our very lives, even our suffering, to Him who judges justly (1 Peter 2:23). He redeemed our souls through the blood of His own son, Jesus. Because we are His, we are called to live holy lives, set apart for obedience to Him, because He is our Father and He is holy (1 Peter 2:24, 1:2, 1:15-16).

A common topic lately that has come up in several conversations is how to live here, but still live for God. How does one live for the glory of God? How does one live eternally minded, yet still function here until Christ calls us home?

I had the privilege of talking to a dear Christian sister yesterday who has suffered much physical pain over the last decade. She was weary, and new ailments have plagued her for the past several months with no immediate relief in sight. She had no choice but to submit herself to God, to His trials, and to His timing.

She felt the pressure to conform to those around her, those who thought perhaps she was going on too much about the wheelchair she has been in and implied that it might be time to get over it. She needed the reminder that God is good and sovereign in all He does. She started to think these trials would go on for ever, that this short life and our daily struggles were all that there was, that God would not reveal His glory one day through these sufferings. As I shared the Promises with her, I was telling them to myself just as much. I needed to hear them, too. I get weary, too. I start to forget, too.

Dear friends, do not be surprised at the painful trial you are suffering, as though something strange where happening to you. But rejoice that you participate in the sufferings of Christ, so that you may be overjoyed when His glory is revealed.

Humble yourselves, therefore, under God's mighty hand, that He may lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you.

And to the God of all grace, who called you to His eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will Himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast. To Him be the power for ever and ever. Amen.
1 Peter 4:12-13, 5:6-7, 5:10-11

I can't even begin to imagine what that glory will look like.

I pray that you know this Savior of mine.

Another Twelve Year Old Boy

2011-10-03T13:05:00.003-05:00

I certainly didn't want to post this post today. I only wanted it to be another sunny Monday morning and upload a dozen pictures of making soap, or of farm critters, or of kid's doing school. But today, again, I plead with you to consider eternity, dear readers. Today, I request again, your prayers.

We just heard the news of a family, about a nephew of a couple who attends the same church, that lost their twelve year old son in an accident over the weekend. I don't know them, I don't even know their names at this point, but I know their pain, I know the details of the next few days, I know the path they are just beginning to walk. I feel helpless. I feel eternity pressing in. I feel the fleeting days. I feel the need to cry out the warnings of salvation, to tell you to decide today, to call on the name of Jesus, to not put it off. Time is short. We are not guaranteed to see the end of this day.

Hold your children closer today, parents. Love them deeper. Tell them about Jesus, teach them in His ways, lead them in holiness, pursue it with all that is within you, beg God for their salvation, consider your own salvation. Please pray with us for this family today.

Here I am!I stand at the door and knock.

If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in.

Revelation 3:20a

The Romans Road to Salvation:

For all have sinned and fall short of the Glory of God.

As it is written: There is no one righteous, not even one; there is no one who understands, no one who seeks God. All have turned away, they have together become worthless; there is no one who does good, not even one. Their mouths are open graves; their tongues practice deceit. The poison of vipers is on their lips. Their mouths are full of cursing and bitterness. Their feet are swift to shed blood; ruin and misery mark their ways, and the way of peace they do not know. There is no fear of God before their eyes. For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.

God demonstrated His own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us. If you confess with your mouth, "Jesus is Lord," and believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead, you will be saved. For everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.

Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. There is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Jesus replied, "If anyone loves me, he will obey my teaching.”

Romans 3:23; 3:10-18; 6:23; 5:8; 10:9; 10:13; 5:1; 8:1; 8:38-39; John 14:23a

Why God gave us Sisters

2011-09-30T12:59:00.002-05:00

"Is a love affair with the God of the universe, an affair so deep that it drops you to your face in beseeching Him, in standing in awe of Him, really something that you want to get over??? Do you really want to go back to my realm, of seeing such little of His greatness and glory? The rest of us only catch a glimpse of what God is revealing to you. Not to sound crass or to dismiss your pain. I think you are the voice that Christians need to hear in this. I am sorry that the pain of missing your son is involved in revealing Christ's majesty."

Some encouragement from my sister, Traci.

***

I am unworthy to try to proclaim God's faithfulness. The temptation in my soul to conform to the world has been intense the past few days. I have been going back to wanting to make my "watchers" happy and grieve how they want me to grieve, how the world thinks I should grieve. I have been tempted to deny where God has me so that I can please the masses. I have been scared to profess too much of God in this lately.

But, beyond anything I have ever known, I know there is a sovereign God who loves me. I know my son is with Him. I know He is coming back one day, and I will give account to only Him. I draw near, and sense His presence. I reach out, and long to physically feel His hand leading me. No, I don't ever want to get over that. I don't ever want to stop standing in awe of Him. I don't want to forget His greatness and His glory that was only revealed at this time because of Trent's death.

My God knows His purposes for it being this way. I will continue to fight to not lose hope of that. I will continue to profess that. I will continue to praise Him. I will continue to trust Him. I will continue to seek Him. I will strive to be where He has me, right now. I will battle to stay close to Him. I will continue to profess Him. Nothing else matters; nothing. I will beg you to consider Him before it is too late. Do you know my God? Do you know my Jesus? Really know Him?

You answer us with righteous and awesome deeds, God our Savior, the hope of the ends of the earth and of the farthest seas.
Psalm 65:5

Truly He is my Rock and my salvation; He is my fortress, I will not be shaken.
Psalm 62:6

The LORD lives! Praise be to my Rock! Exalted be God my Savior!
Psalm 18:46

But may all who seek You rejoice and be glad in You; may those who long for Your saving help always say, "The LORD is great!"
Psalm 70:4

I wait for your salvation, Lord, and I follow your commands.
Psalm 119:166

The Honor of Kings

2011-09-29T12:55:00.002-05:00

It is the Glory of God to conceal a matter;
It is the honor of kings to search it out.
Proverbs 25:2

This morning I went face down, refusing to stay in the apathetic place I have been with God. Not on my knees, not kneeling by the bed, but face down on the old wood floor; begging God to reveal Himself, begging Him to carry me, pleading for His grace, longing for real praise from my soul rather than just this ache that has accompanied me for so many days.

On your knees you can only accept what the King has to offer you; no more, no less, no great expectations, just total humbleness. I felt my insignificance; I sensed God's power and His majesty. I acknowledged Him as Lord and Master like never before. Lying there, I realized the feel of complete surrender.

Tonight I find myself near tears again at flashbacks from seven months ago. The shock must be wearing off. I tried reading some articles on grief to make sure that I was doing everything right and only found a lack of any Godly council. Many theories and statements are out there about how the first year of grieving a child isn't even the hardest part, and that the second through the seventh years are harder yet. But pretty much they all agree that you never really do get over it. And especially when it was an accidental death~ no chance of ever recovering from it.

Where are the Christians who have lost children? Where is the hope in God? Hope in His plans, in His sovereignty, in His eternity? Where are the Hebrews 11 people who are willing to trust God and wait on Him? Some days I feel like I am losing my mind. I conform too easily to what "they" say, and then I get scared. I wonder if I can barely do this today, how can I do it the rest of my life?

So I go back to my knees, back to prayer, back to God. I hold on tighter. I cry more. I trust God all over. I keep thinking that in 800-billion-years from now I won't even remember this day. I try to put it all in perspective somehow. I go back to the truth of Scripture and refuse, again, to be shaken. I repeat the verses over and over and over:

For those He foreknew He predestined; Precious is the death of the saints in the eyes of the Lord; Never will God leave me or forsake; I am in the palm of His hand; God knew Trent and the plans He had for him; Jesus is coming soon; God only does things for our good; one day, one day this will all be made right.

Then I realize that I made it through another day. I realize that Trent's salvation was made clear before his death. I realize that God doesn't make mistakes, and that He knows what broken hearts feel like. I realize I am praising God again.

"Blessed are those who believe in God when they haven't seen him," Alexis reminds me. "Mom, that means you. You are blessed."

I am one day closer to being in heaven. I pray harder for my children who are here. I pray for my husband. I pray for those God calls me to pray for. I pray to live as if this is my last day. I anticipate meeting Jesus face to face. I long for salvation for many souls. I long for the glory of the Lord to fill this land. I proclaim, again, what is only foolishness to so many: Jesus saves, only Jesus saves. Won't you call on Him today when He can still be found, dear reader?

Stuck

2011-09-27T12:52:00.000-05:00

My brain is stuck. What an odd word~ stuck. All I feel in my body today is a tightening in my chest, not even tears stinging at my eyes, or that familiar lump in my throat. I feel the ache in my arms, literally, from longing to hold Trent some days. Finally, after that thought, the tears can come, and the stomach curls as the sobs fall. The lips fight to remain upright; the jaw clenches. It feels better than numb. It feels better than raw.

The outside world wants to quickly heal a person who is grieving. Funny~ at first everyone thought I should be crying, now they don't seem to think I should be, or maybe they just don't know what to do with me still crying, or maybe they don't know what to do because they aren't still crying. But it is only God that I stand before, it is His timetable that I grieve on. I will cry as long as He wants me to cry.

Life is somehow going on. Alexis and I were lamenting over that fact the other day. My little sister and I were struggling with the age old question a couple of weeks ago about why are we here~ and especially as Christians, when all we want is to be with the Lord, why are we still here. I found myself missing Trent this morning for not being here for football this year. Then I stopped myself, and realized how little I realize what reality is.

This is Satan's kingdom.

It is not Trent that I should be weeping for, it is my other children who are still here. Now don't think I've gone off the deep end, I have only seen a glimpse of what Scripture is talking about these past seven months and am trying to sort the reality of it. I have also been reading a book by Steve Gallagher called "Intoxicated with Babylon", and that reality is all too real. Eternity is on the line, people. We are playing in Satan's sandbox and enjoying it, and only want more.

What if everything Scripture says is true, dear Christian? Remember all those verses about this world being the devil's kingdom since the fall of man, and the reason that God sent His son Jesus to die on a cross was to ransom His own, and that His own should live in this world as aliens, not as citizens, and that one day He would come back to surprise us, rescue us, and establish His kingdom. But most of us don't want to be ransomed. Most of us like it here. Most of us have established our own kingdoms here and can't see beyond. We think we are entitled to this world's pleasures, and even that they are a gift from God. Remember who's pleasure's they are. Gallagher goes on to say that we have become drunkards enjoying this world's every little trifle rather than seeking our true King and His kingdom.

Wake up. Please wake up.

That is what my plea has been to God; let me wake up, let me see clearly, let me live faithfully, let me repent of anything that is not glorifying to Him, let me live obediently, let me live eternally minded, let my eyes be open.And to think, I would have traded all that just to see my son chase a little ball around a field on a cold, fall evening. He is with his God. He is with his Savior. Dance before your King, my son, and when I get there we'll dance together.

Empty Hands

2011-09-21T12:46:00.003-05:00

Lift up your hands in the sanctuary and praise the Lord!
Psalm 134:2

When we come to God with empty hands we will not be disappointed.

It is only when our hands are clenched tightly to "my plans, my ways, my possessions, my ideas, my hurts, and my expectations" that we are disappointed in Him. When we let go, and let God be God, there is freedom. Freedom to trust Him. Freedom to let Him lead. Freedom to drop our burdens. Freedom to rest from carrying a load that is too heavy.

Arms can be raised with those same hands open to the heavens; tears can fall, and praise can come from our lips yet again. Our fight with our Creator ends when we surrender Him to be God in our lives in everything that He chooses to do. And not only God, but Master. When we turn and follow Him is when the way is paved smooth, the light shines the brightest, and the peace is the greatest. He is worthy of leading. Are you following?

Anyone who trusts in Him will never be {disappointed}.

Romans 10:11

When Hope Rises

2011-09-20T09:27:00.005-05:00

I have dreaded going to bed at night because I know that the morning will be greeted with another wrestling match, and I will have to come to terms again with God about Trent being in heaven. This battle between soul and mind is constant. Scripture says that the heart is wicked and deceitful and is beyond cure. Our flesh is still flesh; consumed with sin and longs to go astray from our Savior, mine included. Too easily the emotions shift directions and I get swept away. So I fight. I fight with Scripture, I fight with prayer, I fight by making myself accountable and even vulnerable to what my true thoughts and emotions are. And it is exhausting.

As defeat longed to rule yesterday morning, there was suddenly a hope that rose stronger. Hope in a sovereign God, hope in the plans He has for my life, hope in His word. The thought consumed me that this was not a day of defeat, but rather it was another day to bask in God's grace. It was another day to look for His mercies, and His provision, and His faithfulness. It was a day that is a mist, a vapor that will one day pass into eternity.

In that eternity I will never have the opportunity to trust God in this way again. What is veiled now will be revealed then. "Blessed are those who do not see, and yet believe," Jesus said. In heaven God's grace will be different. It will be a grace by sight, not by faith. What a gift to know God, then, in this way for the time He has granted it.

After a good day, my night finished off on that same hope by reading in Scripture:

"Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of God. Consider Him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart."

Hebrews 12:2-3

What a truth to hold on to: Jesus Himself is the author and perfecter of our faith. Alexis and I sat together in awe pondering those words. As she sat writing her book-in-the-works the reality of an author only sunk in deeper. And if Jesus is the perfecter of our faith, that means, then, that everything He does is also perfect.

Even taking twelve year old boys to heaven.

What freedom there is in serving a Sovereign God.

~~~~~~~~~
Endure hardship as discipline; God is treating you as sons.
No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it.
So do not throw away your confidence; it will be richly rewarded. You need to persevere so that when you have done the will of God, you will receive what He has promised.

For in just a little while,
"He who is coming will come and will not delay.
But my righteous one will live by faith.
And if he shrinks back,
I will not be pleased with him."

But we are not of those who shrink back and are destroyed,

but of those who believe and are saved.

Hebrews 12:7, 12:11, 10:35-39

They Shall See His Face

2011-09-17T10:55:00.001-05:00

For the past seven months there has been one thought that has consumed me from the beginning: Trent is in heaven. I don't mean that he's gone, but that he is in heaven. Look at your son. Now, try to imagine if your son knew what heaven looked like. Try to imagine if your son knew what the face of God looked like, what the scars on Jesus' hands looked like, what the throne looked like and the souls of the martyrs under the throne, besides the cherubim and the seraphim, and the Book of life. All those things we teach our kids about in Sunday school are reality for Trent. The things I long to know first hand, he knows.

We were at the zoo the other day. Half way through as we were marvelling at yet another of God's creation, it dawned on me that Trent is probably doing the same thing on a grander scale. "Look at that, look at that, can you believe God made that, look at that!" I can't even imagine.
I am beginning to live worldly again. I hate it, but it's creeping in. The reality of salvation is becoming commonplace again. The ache for God to save my children is slowly becoming a ritual again, rather than a desperate mother pleading before her King.

Today's plans and the farm repairs are rising in importance next to soul's lately. I suppose there are those who are breathing a sigh of relief and are glad that I might lay off of the "Jesus thing" now a little bit, but I am asking God for the exact opposite. All my days left here I want to be used for His Kingdom, not this one. I don't know how to balance that. The calf shed that was started last year still needs to be finished. It is important that the last pieces of siding get put on so that we are wise stewards of our possessions, but the joy of seeing that dreamed about building coming to completion is not there anymore.

I was beginning to wonder if it was the numbness of grief, but I am slowly seeing it as God's grace as I look beyond that little white shed. My mind is trying to sort what's really important and what's temporary. Mostly my brain is on survival mode at this point, and I am only functioning enough to keep my head and my soul above water. The rest gets put aside.

Goose hunting is going on in full force around us. I try to pretend that it doesn't matter, that it doesn't bother me or make me miss Trent more. But then I tell myself to quit pretending. I know that if he were here I would not have been lying in my warm, cozy bed this morning at 5:00 AM, but rather I would have been dressed in camouflage sitting in a frosty field somewhere.

I had the opportunity to share Trent's story with three different men this week; doctor's who aren't normally in our daily life, but who God put there to work miracles through. Last year we expected nothing other than scheduling our yearly checkup for September; this time when I checked out and scheduled our appointment for next September I wondered what would be different a year from now.

I thought of how we impact each other's lives without even realizing it. I thought of these men just coming to work to punch the time clock every day, not understanding the lives that they are changing. I thought of how God changes our lives in a single day. I prayed that God would use a little slip of paper to change their lives. I wondered if that doctor realized how much it meant to me that he broke professional protocol and gave me a hug when I told him my son was in heaven. I praised God for using us.

Yesterday I cried over fence posts. Yes, fence posts. Fence posts that were put in last fall with Trent's help. I touched the post, longing for any possible physical connection to my son. I fought tears as I picked up sticks and when I carried white steel siding. The tears finally overflowed when I realized I had spent the whole morning frustrated over trying to clearly communicate with a man half way down in the nation about what color I wanted used on a book cover about my son who died.

I can't explain how odd it is that Trent is gone. Just gone. You would think that seven months later I would be used to it. Someone said to me the other day, "I don't know how you will ever get over this. I don't think you will ever get over this." I gave them credit for saying anything. It wasn't as hard to hear that comment this time around as I have already heard it before. They did go on to share some very encouraging stories, offered their sympathies, and told me of how losing our child had changed their lives as well.

But still, I don't know how I will ever get over this either. I have come to realize it is not something to "get over". It's not a disease that there is a cure for. No magic pill or potion will take it away. It is a daily walk, a daily trust, a daily hope in Jesus. The only place I need to be is where He has me. Too easily I succumb to where others want me, not intentionally on their end, but where I think they must be thinking I should be. I fight to be where God has me, whether that be crying, remembering, happy, or rejoicing. They are all emotions from Him, not any of them bad in themselves, but only more reasons to remember God's words and reflect Him in them.

I wonder if I am leading or God is leading sometimes, so I stop my plans and let Him show me. And He does. I am glad to be out of the "battle zone" where I was a couple of weeks ago. There is no doubt in my mind that there are eternal battle's going on that we are not aware of. One day we will see. I think of the intensity of a friend who shared how she had been battling in prayer for me one day. Little did she know how I needed exactly that, exactly then.

The other day I realized that somebody must be praying for our marriage. Thank you. It dawned on me a while ago how God has pulled Rob and I together at a time that we could easily be pulled apart. I can't express the strength that God has given us, or the grace, or the togetherness, or the power (not sure if that word describes it right) to glorify Him together. It dawned on me that this, too, is a blessing from God.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, as clear as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb down the middle of the great street of the city.

No longer will there be any curse.

The throne of God and of the Lamb will be in the city, and his servants will serve Him.

They will see his face,

and his name will be on their foreheads. There will be no more night. They will not need the light of a lamp or the light of the sun, for the Lord God will give them light.

And they will reign for ever and ever.

The angel said to {John}, "These words are trustworthy and true."

Better Than Chocolates

2011-09-15T10:53:00.000-05:00

Last night Trent's name casually came up in conversation, and out of the blue, Grace, Micah and I entered in to deep theological matters that I have forgotten to be in awe of. I can't even remember what was said about Trent when Micah commented, "I wish people could come back from heaven."

I explained in simple terms, on a six year old level, "They do, Micah."

"They do?" he asked, eyes wide. "Can he come back today?" The three of us went on to discuss how Jesus was raised from the grave as the firstfruit, how God is going to restore this earth, how people will come back from heaven.

"Well then we better keep his stuff in his trunk for him."

"But I think we will probably go to heaven before Trent comes back from heaven, honey," I tried to explain.

"Well, then maybe Russell can take care of it for him." Russell is our 80-some year old neighbor.

So I tried a different tactic and told him, like Isaiah said, that we will throw all of these earthly belongings that we hold on to so tightly here and put so much meaning in, to the rats and the bats when we see what Jesus has to offer us. I think I summed it up by saying, "Jesus has lots better stuff for us."

"Like gold money, and it has the chocolates inside?"

"Yep, Micah, like gold money with chocolates inside, and even better than that."

"Better than that?!" he could hardly believe it.

I wish I could capture the "awe" in his voice by typing mere words on a computer. I wish I could capture the excitement of his childlike faith. I wish I could capture his wide eyes and expectant face for a God who was just revealed bigger than he could have ever imagined. I wish I could somehow pen the joy in my own heart to be reminded, yet again, that people do come back from heaven, and God has better things in store for His children. Better, even, than gold coins with chocolate inside.

Even in Laughter

2011-09-14T10:51:00.000-05:00

Even in laughter the heart may ache
Proverbs 14:13

I am taking one step forward at a time. One step I have been having a hard time taking is home school. It symbolizes another first of our very way of life. It involves having to take Trent's name off of the schedule and then planning a new schedule without his name on it; preparing books and curriculum for the ones left here. It means deciding whether to leave his unfinished books on his shelf where they have sat since last winter, or remove them. It means working around his empty desk. It means trusting God all over again, moment by moment: trusting, praising, believing, going forth. It means laughing in the midst of the heartache. It means loving my children more and longing for God to do more. Longing for more grace, being here where I am, accepting where that is, and then moving forward, one little step at a time.

800 Billion Years Later

2011-09-12T10:49:00.000-05:00

As the speaker said at camp last weekend: "There will come a day in eternity when you have your 800 billionth birthday, and if that isn't hard enough to grasp, there will come a day in eternity when you can't remember your 800 billionth birthday." Today I can barely get past Monday morning and the fact that it's six-and-a-half months later. Off to peel a billion or so apples . . . Lord willing, I'll be back later to blog about it.

Have You Met My God?

2011-09-10T10:44:00.000-05:00

He wakens me morning by morning,wakens my ear to listen like one being taught.

The Sovereign Lord has opened my ears,and I have not been rebellious;
I have not drawn back.

Because the Sovereign Lord helps me,
I will not be disgraced.

Therefore have I set my face like flint,
and I know I will not be put to shame.

The Lord said, "I, even I, am He who comforts you.

Who are you . . . that you forget the Lord your Maker,who stretched out the heavens and laid the foundations of the earth,that you live in constant terror every day?"

Gladness and joy will overtake them,
and sorrow and sighing will flee away.

But my salvation will last forever,
my righteousness will never fail.

From Isaiah 50-51

~~~~~~~~~~~~

If I could somehow take you down with me into the pit of the despair of grief, I don't know that I would even do it. It's a scary place down there. A place with no hope, and only a furious clawing and trying to grasp anything . . . anything to hold on to. It's dark, and lonely, and painful. It makes you want to turn in on yourself and give up. I know first hand: I have been there most of the week. I don't want to go back.

I have realized that my god is too small. The god that I was creating to replace the Sovereign God, anyway. I could only see days of forever without Trent, and I could only feel the pain, and I couldn't comprehend a god who would ever be anything other than far away in his heaven as I missed my son, and went on in this life without him. That ache weighs you down. If you have never lost anybody there is no explanation for what this feels like. If you have ever lost somebody you can begin to comprehend it. If you have never lost a child, you cannot even come close to trying to imagine it.

I give in to this pain too easily. I give in to the hopelessness too easy. I get tired, I get busy, I get consumed elsewhere, and it hits me. The only way out that I know of is prayer and Scripture. I even called in the troops this week and called in some mighty prayer warriors. Then I set everything else aside other than an intentional drawing closer to Jesus. Feeling Him hold me, love me, comfort me, carry me. Fully trusting Him, letting Him lead, remembering that He is leading, and then I turned and faced that pain. Running is no good, it's still there. I look for the core of it, what is it really that I fear?

I fear that God might have made a mistake. I fear that God might not be enough. I fear that one day this will be twenty years later. I fear that I will forget my son. I fear that mother's won't still be mother's in heaven. I fear that this depends on me and that somehow I am responsible to carry it all, knowing that I can't. I fear that one day the pain will be too much and God won't be enough.

And then I wonder how I ever forgot the promises. I wonder what it was that led me to look to the here and now as the eternal. I have let my guard down in this battle. I have forgotten that there is a battle. I have forgotten what the battle is about. It is about souls. It is about eternity. It is about God's glory. Somehow those things get muddled in the midst of pain.

I try to comprehend eternity. I think of the eternities that have been changed because of Trent's death; I think of Trent's own eternity that was changed simply because of Jesus' salvation while we sat at the dining room table less than a year before the accident.

We are scared of death in our culture, but ignoring it doesn't pretend it away. Every one of us will die. Our children will die, our neighbors will die, our parents will die. And we only wonder what's on sale at Walmart or should I have that second piece of desert?

If we knew the consequences, good and bad, would we live differently? If we really believed that we would face God and give an account one day would we choose differently? If we really believed that He would punish every sin for an eternity, and that Jesus really was the only way to heaven, would we repent quicker? If we really believed that God would simply be faithful to every promise in Scripture, would we live and trust more faithfully? If we believed that He really does hear and answer our prayers, would we pray harder? Pray more?

My god is too small, but my God of the Bible says that this will all be made right someday, He says that He knows what He's doing, He says that I can trust Him, He says that He is leading me by the hand, He says that He is sovereign, He says that it is better to be with Him rather than here, even for my son.

Grief is lonely. The best intending Christians don't even get it. There are few who are called to walk in the trenches with you as you grieve. Know, dear ones, how precious you are to me who have crawled in and not let go of me down here. I long to see your rewards when Jesus does come for carrying me, for feeling my pain, for being faithful in prayer, for encouraging me, for crying over my son as if he was your son. Jesus has your names written down, and you are all written on my heart, as well, as precious friends.

I am living your worst nightmare, dear mothers. And I am here to proclaim the goodness of God in it. But don't be scared of me. Don't leave me here alone. Ask me how I am. Let me cry on your shoulder. Praise God with me, give Him the glory with me, seek Him with me. Let "me" be that mother in your life that needs you to hear her cry. Let "me", be you. Come into the trenches, be willing to walk with Him, don't be scared of the high things He will call you to. I have a feeling He wasn't kidding when He said that He was coming back soon. I have a feeling that we won't regret trusting Him in any of this.

My son is in heaven. My God is right in all that He does. Rejoice with me!

So . . . Have I Mentioned?

2011-09-01T10:40:00.001-05:00

So . . . Have I mentioned that I wrote a book? Shortly after Trent's death different people started saying, out of the blue, that I should write a book. Finally, it dawned on me that maybe I should write a book. Maybe God was calling me to write a book. I prayed and layed out my fleece before the Lord and asked Him for Rob's overwhelming approval if I should go forth with our story of Trent's death. Before I even finished the sentence, he was nodding his head. So . . . I sat down and started writing, and writing, and writing. The words just flowed, and when there were enough they stopped.

"Now what, God?" I asked.

So he sent an editor at the time that I needed an editor. After the editor, it was time to see just what to do with the book and how to publish it. I looked at various options, and in the midst of my looking, God sent a coupon for a huge (huge!) discount off of a publisher that I only dreamt of publishing with. So I signed up with WestBow Press.

WestBow has quickly done their work, and now it has become the time to work on the cover. Hmmm... professional photographers were quickly ruled out because of the staggering prices for a photo session. So instead, I found a teen-age daughter, put the camera in her hands on an early, sunny morning and found myself on the other end of the camera hoping and praying for the perfect shot that will reveal the hope, trust, and depth of our story.And throughout it all, God has continued the encouragement. Often times people keep saying, out of the blue, you should write a book.

It's an odd thing to have wrote a book. Like I told Anne before, it's kind of like standing on main street in your bikini~ after birthing 3 children and with my farmer's tan and all. The mixture of the fear of failure, too much pride, what's my real reason, and simply being obedient are all mixed up into one, besides the countless hours of typing, decisions, and revisions. But it's been pre-read, and read, and read again, and is nearly ready to publish.

So . . . now I will wait again on God and see what He's going to do next. My continuing prayer is that He will use it to bring salvation to many and much glory to His name. When I get to heaven and give an account for my life, I want it to be one that was walked in faith (Romans 14:12) . What a joy it is to use a simple gift of writing as I follow where my Savior leads me.

When Normal is Grace

2011-09-01T10:39:00.001-05:00

I have been fighting God lately. I have been fighting His grace. I have been fighting letting normal be His grace. I don't want normal. Not yet.

I want to stay where every thought is about Trent. I still want to envision him in his bed every night when I walk up the stairs. I still want to long to race him up from the barn everytime I do chores. I still want to mistakenly set out 7 plates on the table, three times a day, 365 days a year. I still want to keep on finding his same shorts in the laundry every week. I still want to look back and see him in the van and ask if he brushed his teeth. I still want to pause everytime I pass a picture of his. I don't want normal yet.

But there it was, again. Standing at the kitchen sink this morning, filling up the coffee pot with water to make a fresh batch of brew, looking out the window over the farm yard, seeing the sun peeking up, and thinking, just for a moment . . . not about grief, not about pain, not about Trent . . . but just normal thoughts with joy, and expectations, and looking forward to upcoming events.

Grace. Just grace in the normal. I always tend to think that God has to do something grande, with lights flashing and trumpets blaring to shower His children with good gifts. Who would have thought that coffee and a sunrise would be all that it took to reveal His goodness? Again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~
Yet the Lord longs to be gracious to you;
He rises to show you compassion.
For the Lord is a God of justice.
Blessed are all who wait for Him!
Isaiah 30:18
~~~~~~~~~~~~

Seeing God

2011-08-31T15:07:00.002-05:00

I feel like I should have a beautiful, poetic blog post somewhere inside of me just bursting to break forth. It seems that I should be able to wax and wane the glories of God and nicely package up all that He is doing in my life, heart, and soul. Then I realize that God does not fit into nice, pretty, little boxes. And then I realize that there is no point in forcing it, so I get another cup of coffee and do what Sherry has told me so often, I just let it flow.

Not much is flowing these days. I long to write, but there are no words. I have wrote myself out again it seems lately. There are times that I have a glimpse of God and His work. Somehow I can grasp the big picture: creation, salvation, mankind, redemption, a trumpet, a returning Savior. Other times I can barely see Him through the fog.

Since Trent's death I have been abiding in Jesus like never before in my life. I envision myself in the palm of God's hand. Just curled up there; protected, surrounded, padded, held, cherished.

I was thinking of my earthly father this morning, and realized God's goodness in taking him to heaven when I was only 18 years old. I can vaguely recall an earthly father's love, and of those recollections, very few of them being tender ones. I watch first hand, through Rob, a father's love being poured out on our children. This husband of mine, who grew up with alcoholic parent's and never learned by example how to be a godly father, has been used as a vessel for God's love. I envy my children in one sense to be loved by their earthly father in this way. I look ahead some days and anticipate the strength in them because of it, and then I wonder what God is preparing them for through it. Who can fathom the ways of the Lord, who can understand Him?

Some days I feel as if I am just being held here in this time of waiting. Waiting on God to move again, waiting for direction, waiting for the promised joy, or for the tears to stop, or for the pain to end. Waiting for my own eternity to appear. Waiting for this to be made right. But then I realize that God wants me here. He wants me to feel this, every part of it. He wants me to live now, He wants me to be obedient now, He wants me to abide in Him now, He wants me to put my hope in Him now and look forward to "that day" all the more. He has granted me this time of rest, this time of soul searching, this time of pain, this time of decision making.

I long to be used by Him. I have a friend who longs to suffer for God. For many years, now, she has been asking Him to take her deep. And she wonders why He hasn't. She fears that she will fail when He does call her to go deep for the sake of the gospel. Most of us would wonder why God would make us suffer. Most of us don't want to go deep. I can testify to her that she will not fail, because when God takes her deep it will be Him revealing His faithfulness to her, not the other way around.

So I simply abide. I do the chores, and I abide. I love my husband and my children, and I abide. I read the Scripture He points me to, and I abide. I try to listen and go where He calls me to go, and I abide. I repent, again and again, and I abide. I wonder how He will make this all right, and if what I have done today is enough, and if I should say more or say less, or if it's me or Him, and I abide. When He calls me to move, I will move. When it's His time, He will bring it about. Again, today, I go forth in trust with my Savior who leads me where He wants me to go.

Sharing our Story

2011-08-31T15:04:00.001-05:00

Today I am sharing our story over at Ann Voskamp's sight, A Holy Experience. If you have never visited her blog, you should. It is a feast for the eyes as well as the soul. Sherry directed me over there the other day and I have been blessed by it. Amongst the other encouraging posts, she hosts Walk With Him Wednesdays. Today's topic was The Practice of Faith, where you can link up to share and encourage others in the world-wide-web community. If I was savvy enough to actually know how to place the button and the link here, I would (sorry, pretty much clueless when it comes to all those little details). Feel free to share, too, if you are so led.

On Friday February 18, 2011, God did the unthinkable in our life: He chose to take our 12-year-old son, Trent, home to heaven in a skiing accident.
It is only considered “the unthinkable” because our plans are not God’s plans, and our ways are not God’s ways.

Before Trent was born we had entrusted the Lord with his life and had asked Him, above all else, to bring salvation to our son. Our greatest desire was that he would be used in a mighty way for God’s glory, and that God would let him dwell in heaven for eternity.

God answered our prayers that Friday in a mightier way than we could have imagined, and we have been rejoicing in His good works and His mercies ever since.

Trent was a boy who truly lived. From the very beginning he did what he loved and enjoyed to the full the gifts and skills that God had given him. In his short life he saw much of this world, traveling as far as India, the Bahamas, Bass Pro Shop in Missouri where he explored his favorite destination on his golden birthday, as well as many family camping trips. God instilled a love of hunting and fishing in Trent, and a joy of the great outdoors. Since he was little all he wanted was to turn 12 to be able to go deer hunting. During his 12th year God allowed him to shoot two deer. Trent loved to pick on his siblings Alexis, Cole, Grace, and Micah, to protect his mother, to snuggle with his father, and to be with his friends, especially his best friends: Thomas and Samuel. He tried everything that interested him, even carving his own long bow and succeeding in taxidermy. In his short years he lived life to the fullest.

But as we are all destined to, Trent also died. On Friday, February 18, 2011, we said goodbye to our son as he left for a skiing trip with his friends, not knowing that he would never be coming back home. God says that He knows the number of our days, that He has created each one, and that He will do what He pleases (Psalm 115:3; Job14:5).

God’s standards to enter His kingdom are high: He expects perfection. Trent was not perfect, not even close. God graciously provided His perfect Son, Jesus Christ, as the atonement for our sinfulness and requires that we simply believe and acknowledge Him for it. God does the rest.

For most of his life Trent struggled with his own sinfulness before God. He knew that he was not right before God, and nothing he could do would ever make up for the sins he had committed to make him worthy to enter heaven. In the spring of 2010, God graciously chose to bring salvation to Trent through repentance and the saving grace of Christ Jesus. Trent’s life was transformed and we enjoyed the young fruit in his life as we watched God work.

It was with great peace and much rejoicing, then, that we as his family have sent him off before us and accepted God’s perfect plan for Trent’s life. Our longing is that God would be glorified in what He has done to wake up many to the realization that we are not guaranteed any number of years in this world (Psalm 39:4-5).

On Friday morning we had our son; on Friday afternoon he was gone.

What we have asked so many people since the accident is: “What if it had been you? Where would you be right now?”

We diligently raised Trent up to know his sinful state and taught him what the Word of God says because we know the implications of denying Christ now, and God was gracious to answer our prayers and to save him. Scripture says that the gospel will go forth with much sorrow and heartache. Please let Trent’s short life be a wake-up call to you. We are rejoicing in the sorrow because we know where our son is and that we will one day be with him again for eternity because of our own salvation.

God's mercies are new every day and His peace does surpass all understanding (Lamentations 3:22-23; Philippians 4:6-7). God has been so gracious to us by blessing us first of all with His peace in His perfect plan. The family and friends who have surrounded us and have lifted us up in prayer are amazing and another testimony to God’s goodness.

It is with great rejoicing that we release our son, Trent, age 12, to our Heavenly Father. Dance before your King, my son.

The Romans road to salvation:
Romans 3:23; 3:10-18; 6:23; 5:8; 10:9; 10:13; 5:1; 8:1; 8:38-39

Lately

2011-08-23T15:01:00.002-05:00

Just some thoughts, prayers, and promises during this journey of grief.

Not sure where to start as it's been a few days since I have been able to write, so I'll start with today and try to get this out of my system, hopefully then go on to the good stuff from the past week. Today's tough. I knew before I got out of bed that it would be a tough day. Little bit's of the week's joy were broken with the tears, the remembering, the missing.

But today . . . I'm trying to pinpoint just what it is.

Probably that it was Rob's birthday yesterday. Probably because he had a tough morning having a first birthday without Trent here. Probably because I am too stubborn to let a day like my husband's birthday let me go down, so I wait until the day after. Everything is setting me off today~ picking corn, seeing pictures of children who aren't even mine on the Internet, realizing we passed another month anniversary, looking up and seeing Micah wearing an old shirt of Trent's that he found who-knows-where, seeing the bunkbed that was taken apart and is still sitting in the hallway waiting to go to the garage, finding a football in the yard and remembering the day Trent bought it at a garage sale with his own money and remembering again, and again, and again that it is football season and how we looked forward to games and practices and Trent's excitement this fall, or maybe it's the fact that school needs to begin in a couple of weeks and I don't want to see a schedule without Trent's name on it. Or maybe I'm just tired of everybody being sick and I'm feeling behind on everything from the lawn mowing, to keeping up with the budget, to figuring out what-in-the-world to cook for supper, again.

But the whole week hasn't been that way. It has been a good week, actually. A week of remembering the Promises. A week of joy for a son in heaven. A week of trusting. A week of seeing God's work in action. A week of realizing (just a bit) the bubble that God has us in, where we are being uplifted in prayer, and His grace really is sufficient and being poured out beyond measure.

Did you know that Jesus longs for His children to be with Him? In John 17:24 He says, "Father, I want those you have given me to be with me where I am." I have been pondering those words, cherishing them, loving God more for them. He knows our longings. He feels our hurt and the depth of our missing our son. He longs for us that way. In God's sovereignty, the waiting is necessary. One day, one day. . .

The book of Isaiah continues to be my steadfast place of joy and hope. God has used those verses over these past six months to encourage me greatly. I am led back there again and again. "I have chosen you and have not rejected you. So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand." Isaiah 41:9-10 "For I am the Lord, your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you. Do not be afraid, O worm Jacob, O little Israel, for I myself will help you," declares the Lord, your Redeemer, the Holy One of Israel." Isaiah 41:13-14

I have been thinking about the honor of suffering lately. Not just suffering, but suffering as God's children, suffering under His hand, suffering for the advance of the gospel. Zechariah 13:9 keeps coming to mind:

"This third I will put into the fire;
I will refine them like silver and test them like gold.
They will call on my name
and I will answer them;
I will say, ‘They are my people,’
and they will say,
‘The LORD is our God.’”

Somehow I am trying to understand this verse from an eternal perspective. How easy it is to look at this temporary world and think that it is eternal. Eternity is real. This God is real. What He says is real and it is what He is going to base and judge everything on. The realization that He chose me to be put into the fire, to be refined and tested, for the purpose that I would call on His name and have no other hope, to wake me up, to shake me up, to reveal Himself, to prove Himself, to bring glory to Himself, to proclaim hope through my pain . . . what a thought.

And then to realize that I am not isolated here on a little island by myself. God is not only working in our lives with Trent's death. He has caused hundreds, I would even venture to say thousands just from the numbers I know, to consider eternity, their own and their children's, through one twelve year old boy entering glory. How many of them have ignored the opportunity for salvation? But then, how many have been impacted to live for Christ? To change their motives and desires and focus them heavenward rather than worldly. How many children's lives have been changed forever because God has gotten a hold of the parents through this?

Our lives where changed six years ago when close friends lost a young daughter in an accident. The way I live and parent and love my children and trust and long for God is different because of that day. I never thought I would be that mother with that kind of a story to tell for eternity. I never expected this kind of a gift from my Creator. I never knew He was this good.

Saturday Morning Ramblings

2011-08-20T14:52:00.003-05:00

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"God whispers to us in our pleasures,
speaks in our conscience,
but shouts in our pains:
it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world."

The Problem of Pain, C.S. Lewis

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's funny how God keeps bringing things over and over and over again in our lives. I have been pondering this quote by C.S. Lewis for weeks now, and then was reminded of it again when I was reading about Elijah in 1 Kings 19 yesterday.

Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart
and shattered the rocks before the LORD,
but the LORD was not in the wind.
After the wind there was an earthquake,
but the LORD was not in the earthquake.
After the earthquake came a fire,
but the LORD was not in the fire.
And after the fire came a gentle whisper.
When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over his face
and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave.
Then a voice said to him, “What are you doing here, Elijah?”
I Kings 19: 11b-13

Elijah had ran. For more than forty days he had ran. Did he think he could outrun God? I realized I have a tendency to run from God. But God has a way of getting our attention so that we have to stop running and consider Him.

You've got my attention Lord; I'm listening. I have seen Your mighty deeds. I have witnessed Your strength. I have heard Your whisper.

I feel at times like God has me backed up against the wall of that rock cliff with nowhere else to go except to turn around and face Him. "What are you doing here, Terri?" He asks.

Why do I run? Have I forgotten what His word says? Have I forgotten the cross? Have I lost hope? Have I turned to myself and this world for everlasting joy? Have I given in to the temptation to trade the treasures of this world for the treasures of heaven? Have I given in to doubts? Do I think He doesn't know what He's doing? Do I think He won't be enough?

I'm not sure most days how to go beyond missing Trent. I don't want to not miss Trent.

My head is pounding from a summer cold. Grief is harder with added exhaustion. I have been letting myself cry, though. It is easier for the tears to flow and it is easier for people to see them flow. I have rarely felt vulnerable enough to let myself cry in front of anybody, even Rob. It's just the way I am; I barely cry to start with. What I have found are arms that hold me, gentle hands that wipe away the tears, and whispers of God's promises. And then, the tears do finally stop.

Alexis is amazing. Oh, how God has used that young lady. He has been using her to reveal Himself to me throughout her whole life. So often I try to hide my deepest grief and pain from the kids, but God tells her even when I can't say it. I was cooking supper on the grill the other night and heard the door open behind me. She came out on the deck and just quietly stood off to the side, under the eave as it was raining. I turned around and looked at her and asked what she was doing. "God just told me to come out here," she said. And I had just been praying for God's strength.

And talking about cooking. . . who ever knew grief was such a good diet plan? I stepped on the scale this morning and realized I have lost close to fifteen pounds in the last six months. I am nearly down to post-highschool/pre-baby weight. Guess I don't have to worry too much about that double chin anytime soon. I will be expecting Maddie to pull in with a pot of some kind of kitchen goodness and spoon feed me pretty soon if she catches wind of it. Man does not live by bread alone, do they my good friend? God has been my sustainer. I have longed for Him more than food.

And on to expectations. I feel like I have two heads most of the time when I go anywhere local. Do I talk about Trent, don't I talk about Trent? Does this person know, or do they really not know? Do they want me to say something first, or don't they want me to talk about it? It's so odd to stand around and talk about the weather with people when eternity is on the line.

I still hardly feel like I can put together enough words to carry on a real conversation with most people anyway. There are the one's that have walked this walk with us and we end up closing down the church when we are together. But most people don't know what to do or what to say. I guess I don't know what to do or what to say, either. I don't know if I am expected to act like the grieving mother, or the pious religious woman, or the crazy God lady. I don't know why I care so much about what I think everybody thinks about me, versus what God thinks about me. And then I have heard of a few people who think too highly about me, and I like that even less. I am no different, no better, and no higher; God is only using me in the way He chose.

Maybe someday life will be normal again. Maybe someday I won't be scared of melting into a crying fit while standing in the dog food aisle at the local Dollar store. Maybe someday I will be fifteen pounds on the other side of that scale and will worry again about that double chin.
I'll finish the ramblings with a little more C.S. Lewis because once I started reading his quotes (from here) I couldn't stop.

"Relying on God has to begin all over again every day as if nothing had yet been done..."

--from a letter "To Mrs. L."

"100 per cent of us die, and the percentage cannot be increased."

--The Weight of Glory

"[God] is not proud...He will have us even though we have shown that we prefer everything else to Him."

--The Problem of Pain

"God will look to every soul like its first love because He is its first love."
--The Problem of Pain

"When you invite a middle-aged moralist to address you, I suppose I must conclude...that you have a taste for middle-aged moralizing."
--The Weight of Glory

Be Careful What You Ask For

2011-08-17T14:42:00.003-05:00

Yesterday was a tough day to get out of bed. Never mind that the coffee and the bathroom is excluded in my quest to truly praise God for His sovereign plan of Trent being in heaven every morning before my feet hit the floor; I crossed my legs and went on with the soul searching. As I was trying to fake my way through it so I could just get downstairs and start the day, the thought dawned on me that this was the God of the universe that I was talking to. He knows my heart and my real thoughts. I can't be fake before Him.

I grabbed my Bible from the chair beside the bed and randomly opened up to Zechariah. Amazing promises from my Savior that is leading me. A little flicker of hope again, closer to praising, closer to joy. As I finished my prayer, and was actually rejoicing, I asked God one more thing. I asked him to just send some encouragement today. I have resolved to be content to let Him do with Trent's death what He wants, but I have never quit asking Him to use it in a mighty way to glorify His name. I long to leave it all in God's hands and trust whatever He has chosen to do with it, but sometimes (like all the time) I just want to see a glimpse of His work. "A little encouragement would make this so much easier today, God," I told Him.

I expected a sweet email, or an encouraging comment (which He also sent, thanks for being faithful dear ones), but He went above and beyond that as well. In very clear, God guided motives, my little sister showed up before lunch time. We laughed, we cried, we hugged, we talked, we ate, but above all, we rejoiced in God's work. Oh, His amazing work! His clear work that can't be denied that is going on right before our eyes. Eternities that have been changed because of that day in February. Prayers answered. Hearts changed. Souls saved. Praising a good God that does have this all planned out.

Today I woke up empowered by that work. I remembered that God does hear our every little plea. He sees our broken hearts. He is enough if we will let Him be. I woke up truly rejoicing for a son in heaven before my eyes even opened this morning. I prayed more intently than I have in days. I specifically lifted up before the Lord the young doctor that cared for Trent that afternoon in that emergency room just like I told him I would: for his salvation, for conviction of sin, for God's work in his life. I trust my Savior's leading. Today it is easier to follow Him.

"This third I will bring into the fire;

I will refine them like silver and test them like gold.

They will call on my name and I will answer them;

I will say, 'They are my people,'

and they will say, 'The Lord is our God.'"

Zechariah 13:9

The Seed

2011-08-14T14:36:00.002-05:00

But someone may ask, "How are the dead raised? With what kind of body will they come?" How foolish! What you sow does not come to life unless it dies. When you sow, you do not plant the body that will be, but just a seed. . .

But God gives it a body as he has determined, and to each kind of seed He gives its own body. So will it be with the resurrection of the dead. The body that is sown is perishable, it is raised imperishable; it is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory; it is sown in weakness, it is raised in power; it is sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual body.

If there is a natural body, there is also a spiritual body. So it is written: "The first man Adam became a living being", the last Adam, a life giving spirit. The spiritual did not come first, but the natural, and after that the spiritual. The first man was of the dust of the earth, the second man from heaven. As was the earthly man, so are those who are of the earth; and as is the man from heaven, so also are those who are of heaven. And just as we have borne the likeness of the earthly man, so shall we bear the likeness of the man from heaven.

I declare to you, brothers, that flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God, nor does the perishable inherit the imperishable. For the perishable must clothe itself with the imperishable, the mortal with immortality. When the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality, than the saying that is written will come true: "Death has been swallowed up in victory." "Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?" The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.

Therefore, my dear brothers, stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain. If only in this life we have hope in Christ, we are to be pitied more than all men.

A little hope today from 1 Corinthians 15.

Can You Feel It?

2011-08-14T14:31:00.002-05:00

I can't feel it.

I can't feel the joy of the subtle change from hot summer days to slightly cooler, comfortable weather. I can't feel the peace of a quiet morning on the porch with a cup of coffee, gazing across the fields, woods, and farmyard. I can't feel the simple pleasure of walking in the garden and seeing the fruits of our labor. I am scared to feel the depth of the love in my heart for my children still here. I don't know how to laugh with them and dream with them anymore. My husbands embrace threatens to cause an avalanche of emotions that might not ever stop once they start.

I can't begin to express how sad I am. I can't begin to describe the pain in my heart. I can't start to think about the depth of that sadness lest it overwhelms me. There are no words to explain how it feels to miss your son after he has been in heaven for nearly six months.

I wonder how God will make this all right one day. Not blasphemous, but really wondering. How does this get made right? How do all the days of missed childhood, precious memories, of watching a young boy grow into a young man be made right?

When does this ache stop? Does it ever stop? Will the tears ever stop? What if I forget Trent? What if having only four kids becomes normal? When did it become normal?

In God Alone

2011-08-10T14:28:00.002-05:00

Up, down, up, down, up, down. Good grief. I can't stop this roller coaster, so I just hold on. Today I'm up. Catching my breath for the next plunge down again, but enjoying the mountain top experience for now. I cling to God's grace. I beg Him to continue sending it. I praise Him when I feel it, and I try to remember that's what this is.

I have been having what is probably anxiety attacks lately. Breathe in, breathe out. Stop the brain and emotions that continue to run away, and turn back to Scripture. "[I] live by faith and not by sight. Therefore [I] do not lose heart. Though outwardly [I am] wasting away, yet inwardly [I am] being renewed day by day. For [my] light and momentary troubles are achieving for [me] an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So [I] fix [my] eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. And [I . . . am] being transformed into His likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit. Therefore, since [I] have such a hope, [I am] very bold. I tell you, now is the time of God's favor, now is the day of salvation." ( From 2 Corinthians this morning.)

I have realized God's grace on a deeper level lately in the fact that He has removed any expectations of looking to others for peace and comfort through this, but rather He has turned me to Him alone. "But this has happened that [I] might not rely on [myself] but on God, who raises the dead." (2 Corinthians 1:9) He has been drawing me into a quiet time with Him so that He can reveal Himself greater than I have ever known Him to be. I think of Jesus' time in the wilderness . . . I long to go hide in the wilderness just to be alone with God.

I have also been trying to comprehend the mercies and blessings of God that are revealed through suffering. Over and over I have praised God for waking me up spiritually. My reality is that I will never again know how it feels to not have a child who died. Any supposed trust or hope that I ever had in this life has been destroyed. My eyes have been fixed on eternity. "So from now on [I] regard no one from a worldly point of view." (2 Corinthians 5:16)

Rather than seeing you, I see your eternity. I wonder where you are with Christ. I beg God continuously for the salvation of my children. I pray for Him to keep my husband strong. I pray for the salvation of those who email or call or stop over just to visit. I pray for the guy sitting at his picnic table as I drive by, wondering if he knows where he's going when he dies. My heart is fixed on heaven, rather than here on this earth.

I raise my hands and praise God that Trent is in heaven. I see the sun beaming through my bedroom window and think of the verse that says God's glory rises like the morning sun. I feel it rising in my soul; one day I will see it first hand. One day I will see my son again face to face.

Sufficient Grace

2011-08-04T14:22:00.003-05:00

~~~~~~~~~~~~

But He said to me,
"My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness."
2 Corinthians 12:9

~~~~~~~~~~~~

If I am anything at this time, I am weak. Physically, emotionally, even (sometimes especially) spiritually. In and of myself I have nothing to brag about. None of my visible talents or knowledge or experience qualifies me to walk this walk. God is stripping me bare in my soul. He is removing anything that I may have clung to which was not Him. Maybe that's what's hardest about all of this~ that I have learned to cover up with so many things that weren't God.

At the core He is making this all about Him. "Do I really trust Him?" He keeps asking me. I keep fighting to answer yes. "How about now?" He asks. Is He enough? Am I willing? Will I walk in obedience down this path that He is leading me on? Do I really know Him?

I can still hear Trent's voice in my mind. I can envision him coming down the stairs in the morning, walking up close, saying, "Hi Mom!" I can still remember the feel of his hand at my lower back, rubbing it like he always did. I can still remember how tall he was when he stood next to me. I can see those eyes. That smile. And if he was still here, I would be checking to see if he had brushed his teeth yet.

But today my thoughts are about Trent being in heaven. My longings are to be where he is, not to have him back here. They are longings that dull any joy here. I struggle to delight in what God has for me here, because I want to be there. A friend encouraged me that it is okay to take delight in things here even without Trent; that God would give me the grace for every first without him.

I can't imagine this without that grace. I feel the pain and wonder how much more so it would be if God wasn't already giving grace. I think of how gracious God has been in every step of this already, and realize that He didn't have to be. He didn't have to save Trent. We could be questioning where he is. Or, worse yet, we could be learning how to praise a God who is just to send people to hell for their sins. Trent could be paralyzed, or still unresponsive in a hospital bed somewhere. But God was gracious, and Trent is in heaven.

One day we will all die. There is enough evidence to prove it, unless of course the rapture comes first, but most of us can count on dying. I try to remember this all from eternity's side.

I have been thinking about how grace can't be relived or stored up for the future. I ponder being at the hospital the night of Trent's accident, and I can hardly handle the thoughts most days. That grace was given then when we needed it. I can remember the grace that was given. I can marvel at what God allowed us to do in the midst of that grace. I can stand in awe of the God who gave grace when we desperately needed it, but I have to count on God's grace for this day to be new. For every little detail, for every moment, for every thought; He gives it as He pleases.

The dark days remind me again of how gracious God is. I have just come through a streak of tough days. When the light finally shines through I rejoice all the more. I cling to God all the more. I long to stay on this side, rather than go back to the dark, the pain, the hopelessness. In those days I forget. I wonder what that grace felt like. I long for it. But I cannot conjure it up on my own. I wait on my God. I feel what He has for me to feel. I trust His leading. I hold on. I thank Him for those who carry me in their prayers, and often times with their own arms, words, and presence. I thank Him for His grace which is sufficient, and for His power which is revealed, in my weakness.

Dear Anonymous

2011-07-28T14:13:00.000-05:00

Dear Anonymous,

Thank you so much for the card you sent a couple of weeks ago! I wanted to somehow let you know that I received it, and that it has been sitting on my computer desk ever since as a reminder of God's continuous work. My curiosity was peaked as soon as I pulled the card out of the mailbox and saw a hand written envelope all the way from Texas. I sat in the van and read, and reread, (nearly in tears) the sweet words you wrote. I was humbled, and overjoyed, and encouraged in God's work all over again.

You are an example of His faithfulness to His children. You are evidence of God's provision to carry us through this suffering. You have reminded me again that He has not left us alone in this, but has called up many, many dear souls to help carry us through. God has answered your prayers and has given us great joy in the midst of the pain. All those times that He has put us on your heart, and you have responded in prayer or even in something as simple as writing a note, He has moved. You give me hope in God's promises~ that He is doing things beyond what we can imagine to glorify His name. Thank you for being faithful! Terri

And, to all you other faithful ones that God has called upon to carry us at this time~ Thank you! I see first hand God working through you. Don't doubt the effect of your prayers or the words that God gives you to write. He promises that not one of them will be forgotten. You are in the front line of the battle zone with us. What a pleasure it is to be here with you for such a glorious cause! May God give us the courage to continue to fight the good fight for the glory of our King.

Hebrews 12: 1-3
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, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.

Matthew 10:42
"And if anyone gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones who is my disciple, truly I tell you, that person will certainly not lose their reward.”

NIV (Bible Gateway)

It Dawned on Me

2011-07-26T14:18:00.003-05:00

It realized tonight that there are five months worth of pictures without Trent in them. I realized that a lot of my pictures have stayed hidden in the computer since Trent died. It hasn't been top priority to record details and enjoy photographs this summer. All those vacations and special times have a hidden pain to them now. They are all records of firsts. Firsts that are hard to do and I am not so sure just how to process them some days.

We received an invitation in the mail the other day for a picnic for survivors of loved ones who have made organ donations. I almost laughed. Then I almost cried. I remembered again how we got on their list... how is this real? What would you talk about at a picnic like that? I know the intentions are good, but maybe I should suggest that they wait a bit longer before mailing out invitations to families who have just lost children. There is still too much pain at this time to remember the precious gifts that were given.

Then I had to call the bank to make a simple transfer of funds. And it almost ended up with both myself and the poor clerk crying before we were done. Did you know that a deceased person couldn't earn dividends on their savings account? I didn't, either. And why did nobody call to let us know that little detail before now? All these little details are still so consuming.

I found myself praising God after the Duluth hospital called this morning. Actually, it was hours after I heard their message that I praised God. I saw the name on the caller ID and let the phone keep on ringing. I remember the last call we got from there. The nice lady told us that they had made plaster hand prints of Trent's hands and wanted to know our zip-code so they could send them to us. I felt the wind knocked right out of me. It was worse than hearing the news of Trent's death for the first time.

In my own little world I am dealing with this. With God I am dealing with this. With the public, or with people who love me too much, or with fresh reminders in so many odd ways, I go down.I thought about the person's job it is to make plaster casts of the hand's of children who die. I thought about the hands that have handled all these details without us even knowing about it. I wondered if they had children. I wondered if they think about eternity. I wondered how I am going to open that box next week. I wondered why she didn't have our zip-code. I wondered about God's promises and what Trent is doing in heaven today. I wondered how it will be when I have been there for five months.

Today, God has me here. I trust Him for that. Today was even a good day... all things considered. I worked, I ate, I dared to dream a bit, I loved deeply even though it scares me, I felt emotions through the numbness, I longed for things unseen, I cherished conversations with my daughter about God, I wrote, I took pictures, I cared. Then I crawled into bed and watched a movie with Rob and ate half a bag of Cheese-puffs.

What I Miss, and More Rambling

2011-07-24T16:27:00.000-05:00

It dawned on me recently what I miss so much about Trent being gone~ it is the loss of "us". The "us" that was our complete family with him. Who we are is broken. There is a gap, a missing part, always an open seat or an extra piece of pizza. What Trent brought to our family dynamics is missing. The sayings, the looks, the expected... they're not there anymore. Nobody wants to go fishing, or trap gophers, or make lunch, or sort tackle or hunt down that red squirrel anymore. There are no more barking coon dogs to shush or live traps to check. The four-wheelers have sat in the garage most of the summer and we haven't seen the cabin sight or played at the pond for months. Nobody is excited to see if the potatoes are getting big yet and we can't hardly force ourselves to even consider browsing the Fair books for entries this summer.

I just miss Trent. I want him to be here to be a brother to his siblings. I want to be his mother again. I love that kid like you can't imagine. And I miss him more and more with every day that passes. Over five months have passed already. He has been in heaven for five months. One day it will be five years, and ten years, and fifteen years. And I will still miss him. I don't know how to recreate "us" without him. I don't want to recreate "us" without him. We are making memories without him. Life is going on without him. I know where he is. But I miss him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

As I headed up to bed with those thoughts swirling last night (seriously considering deleting them from cyber space and my memory), an overwhelming covering of joy surrounded me half-way up the stairs. Again, in a tiny break-through in the fog of grief and pain, the Holy Spirit reminded me of where Trent is. He is in Heaven! Everything lined up, just for a moment, and my mind went from this temporary world to eternity. I raised my hands and praised the God above. The God who gives and takes away. The God who answers prayers. The God who ordains all things. The God who loves His children. The God who knows what He is doing. The God who will never leave me or forsake me.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The battle continues. I feel like I am being tossed around, looking for my solid Rock to stand on. Grasping for His hand. Knowing that He is there, knowing that He is in control, knowing that really I am in the palm of His hand. The God who put the stars in place knows what He is doing with my son's life. I cannot begin to put into words the pain of my heart. My mind shuts off at the thought of it. I fear going numb. I know I am numb to a degree. The other day I got sun burnt, and as a friend began covering the burn with her super-cream she apologized for the pain she would cause. I literally did not feel it. I suppose numb is a blessing from God, too, tho.

I fight to hold on to the promises of Scripture. I think of Peter in the Narnia movie The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. The scene on the iceberg where Susan and Lucy are holding onto him while he keeps his grasp on the sword embedded in the chunk of ice they are floating on through the rapids. In Hollywood's dramatic version (music building), we see only the river, then gloriously a sword, a hand, and then finally three survivors. I feel like Peter, like I am just holding on.

The younger kids are talking about Trent quite a bit lately. I have been worried about them not sharing. I have opened up conversations about him, but they have not shared much until now. It certainly is a daily topic around here with the rest of us. While packing up Trent's things the other day, Micah came and stood beside me for a little while and commented about Trent leaving us so soon. I don't know why God wanted him to leave so soon, Micah, I don't know why.

I was brave and ventured into town for errands last week. This in itself was a monumental thing~ to pick up prescriptions and stop at the local Dollar store in our small town. The averted eyes and the unspoken topic is hard, but the questions are sometimes harder. I admit, I have let Rob do the local errands and have done quite a bit of shopping at Walmart since Trent died. Two stops, and I ran into two mother's who also lost their teen-age sons in the last year-and-a-half. It is not a group that I wanted to be a part of. It is hard to feel other's pain when your own is so great. I knew exactly what they were going through. Hugs were shared, understanding was expressed in few words, and it has caused many prayers to be lifted up for them.

I am reminded in Scripture to delight in God, in His ways, in His laws, in Salvation, in my weakness (Psalm 37:4, Psalm 1:2, Psalm 35:9, 2 Corinthians 12:10). Who can fathom the mysteries of God (Job 11:7)? His greatness no one can fathom (Psalm 145:3). Yet they cannot fathom what God has done (Ecclesiastes 3:11). His understanding no one can fathom (Isaiah 40:28).

I am going beyond trying to understand the whys of the accident or what God is doing with Trent's short life. Instead, I am ever drawing nearer to this God that I cannot begin to fathom. I love that word~ fathom. The dictionary says it means: To penetrate to the meaning or nature of; comprehend. And: To determine the depth of. To penetrate the meaning of God. Where would you start? With His glory I would think. You would never be able to determine the depth of God and His ways. But, oh, the joy of beginning! Marveling at every new facet of His being. Standing amazed at Him revealing Himself, even if it means destroying who we thought He was, or who we allow Him to be in our lives. How gracious God is when He destroys our idols of Him.

As I go forth in this journey I am reminded of God's reply to Job in chapters 38-40: Where was I when He created the universe? Where was I when He set the earth's footings? Have I ever given orders to the morning sun? Do I think I know the laws of heaven or could set up God's dominion over the earth? I, like Job, am unworthy to accuse God of anything. I, like Job, will humbly trust God to be God.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

And since this post is taking days to complete, I might as well throw this thought in here too. Over and over I have heard reference that God knew I was strong enough to do this, that he chose me because {fill in the blank}, etc., etc., {create your own version to satisfy a desired meaning for suffering}. It bugs me to the core because, first of all, it strips God of His sovereignty. It is not as if God is sitting in heaven looking down at all of us thinking "Which one should I pick? Who's strong enough? Who could endure their son dying? She looks like a good one!"

That kind of thinking denies God of His pre-ordained plans for our lives. That thinking reveals that the god we serve only knows as much as we do, and golly-gee-whiz, He sure hopes it all turns out swell in the end, too. It calls God a liar because, ultimately, we are saying that we can do anything in our own strength {of course throw in there a little acknowledgement of help from God to cover up for Him}.

I am not ashamed to say that I put no confidence whatsoever in myself. Does anybody really think I could be doing any of this without God's complete grace? Without His sustaining me? Without Him keeping me from going bonkers? Without total trust in His sovereignty? Without a hope for eternity? On my own I would still be in bed this morning (rather than drinking coffee in my Pj's and pondering deep truths and letting my children eat popcorn for breakfast) or most certainly would have been committed to the insane asylum or at the least have a designated stool at the local tavern.

Stepping off the soap box now~ Lord willing~ as long as I don't trip and fall on the way down.

Feelings

2011-07-22T16:24:00.001-05:00

Feelings, nothing more than feelings
Trying to forget my feelings of love
Teardrops rolling down on my face
Trying to forget my feelings of love

Feelings, for all my life I'll feel itI wish I've never met you, girl
You'll never come again

Feeling, woo-o-o feeling
Woo-o-o, feel you again in my arms

Feelings, feelings like I've never lost you
And feelings like I'll never have you again in my heart
Feelings, for all my life I'll feel it
I wish I've never met you, girl; you'll never come again

Feelings, feelings like I've never lost you
And feelings like I'll never have you again in my lifeFeelings, woo-o-o feeling it,
woo-o-o, feeling again in my arms

Feelings
****
Woo-o-o...... Feelings..... That oldie-but-goodie sung by Morris Albert. I'm fighting feelings. Not fighting feeling, but fighting feelings versus truth. The feelings often win.

I feel my mind retreat over certain things. Literally feeling the thoughts sinking to the back of my head. I feel the feelings themselves looking for somewhere to hide in my brain so that the hurt doesn't hurt. Somehow trying to fool itself that it doesn't have to feel these things. When the feelings go to my heart that's when I know I'm not stuffing. Not even my heart I guess, but to my gut. When my stomach curls and the tears flow that's when I know I have allowed myself to feel.

I walked by the computer desk the other day and saw Rob typing. Rarely does he ever venture near the computer so I was curious. He had typed in Trent's name. And many sights popped up. Many sights with obituaries. My son's obituary. News again and again of Trent's death.

Today we bought an antique trunk. More feelings. More fighting back. No more stuffing. Gut wrenching and tears flowing. An antique trunk to pack away Trent's belongings. The sweet couple tried to return our money when we told them why we were buying their beautiful trunk. More precious souls to share the gospel with. I often wonder about why God puts certain people in our paths to share His word with. About the interesting ways that He uses for us to meet.

Someday soon I will take a day and sort all of Trent's worldly treasures from the top of his bed and pack them away. I will feel the hurt. I will miss him intensely. I will trust God. I will remember how long eternity will be. I will see again that none of this stuff goes with us. I will remind myself that God knows what He's doing.

I try to imagine how it was before the accident. I try to imagine if it will ever be that way again. That safe feeling. That content feeling. That feeling that dreams really could come true. That feeling that it would matter if dreams did come true.

The concept of feeling deeply is scary. How far will this go? Are feelings a bottomless pit? What if you never quit falling? But feelings go both ways. The height of joy inclines as quickly as the depths of despair decline. I feel God. I feel His closeness. I feel His leading. I long for Him. Is this journey not worth it for that? For the prying of my fingers from this world. For His mercy to be felt. For the complete trust in His sovereignty. It is worth it to know a bit of the depth of God. To both extremes.

I think of heaven. I think of the difference there if I had never gone through this here. If I had never known God this way during this short time. Would I have fought? Would I have ever been woken up? Would I have ever been granted so much repentance of age-old sins? Or would I have just continued to be content in my own apathy?

One day I will come to the end of this journey. Over and over again I consider eternity. I consider the day of my death. I wonder, "Is it today?" How I long to be found faithful. To have trusted. To have drawn closer. To have felt it all. To have given all. To have held out the Word of God above all. To have led the way. To have never given up.

My thoughts continue to reflect on the importance of transparency. I wonder if I share too much. I wonder if I share enough. I think of God's transparency through Scripture. I ponder how He has laid out Himself through Words. I understand that. I understand the fear of revealing only to be trampled. I read in Hebrews the other day about how wicked it is for a man to trample the Son of God underfoot (10:29). I shudder at the thought. I can relate in a tiny sense as I think of those who trample what God has done with our son. I fear for them. I fight my own bitterness. I long for it to be different. I imagine that it is only my perception in their reactions. I trust God all over again.

One day {Lord willing} I will look back and see this path clearer. I will see God's fingerprints everywhere. My hope will be greater. My longing for heaven will be greater. For today, I will be content to wait a little while longer like God has told me to. For today, I will fight. For today, I will feel what God has for me to feel.

A Little Numb

2011-07-18T16:22:00.001-05:00

I realized the other day that maybe I have gone just a wee little bit numb in the midst of this grieving process. It dawned on me when child number four was sitting in the dentist's chair having his teeth cleaned and finally I heard the drills that usually make me cringe from my eye teeth to the tips of my toes. Somewhere around the third orthodontic referral was when reality started sinking in to push me out of my emotional hiding spot. Yes, we are looking at the potential of three kiddos with braces. All at one time. And I am sure all with one easy monthly payment, too.

I feel exhausted on every level~ emotional, spiritual, mental, physical. Thinking is hard work these days, and I have been doing too much of it. I could work all day in the barn or out in the garden, but brain work does me in lately. Sorry to all of you who have called with simple questions. Talking and deciding things is like rocket science as of late.

My thinking work has been working on the book. God sent this gifted editor {Stop over and say "Hi" to Sarah if you get a chance, and if you need any editing work done she is amazing} to help me out.

I feel like I am in a battle zone. I feel the weight of getting every single word right~ for my own sake, but more so for the representation of God and who He is. I feel the very weight of salvation with each word typed. I fear the condemnation for those who would read the words and still deny Christ. I see the faces that we have seen in the past five months who have ignored God's work, and then I hear the words of the changed lives of those precious souls who God has opened their ears through our story. As I worked late last night on revisions, the overwhelming feeling of the power of the words I was typing hung over me. It scared me. I feel the need to hurry up, and then I let myself hold back and be scared by failure, and finally I commit every word and every outcome again to God; this is His story, He has only given me the words to tell it.

I go to Scripture to be renewed. The life giving words wake me up. They give me hope yet again. They remind me of God's sovereign plans, of His kingdom to come, of how beautiful heaven must be, of where Trent is. He still "is". That's what baffles me. He is still Trent. He has only gone ahead of us and given us a greater desire to be where he is. But "where" is he? Where is heaven? What is heaven? What is it like to be in God's presence?

Lately the pain longs to overwhelm. The earthly side longs to take over. The broken body that I tend to think is immortal wants to consume. The tears threaten at any given moment over any little thing. How are you doing? some poor fellow asked me yesterday~ we both looked away as I fought the tears. He knows how I'm doing. He's doing the same way. He has seen too much tragedy this past year, too. He has lost 2 boys who were like nephews, grandsons, treasured children. He, too, is learning what it is to trust God.

The journey continues. I remind myself of my own words~ God knows what He is doing. He is trustworthy. I go to His Words where He tells me to believe, to rejoice, to look forward to the rewards He has in store for those who seek Him. I do believe, I am rejoicing, I am looking forward. I will strive to live today like it's my last. Like today might be the day that I see my Savior face to face. If it is, would somebody just send that book to the publisher, revisions or no revisions? Love you~ See you when you get there.

What Would Trent Say?

2011-07-13T09:37:00.002-05:00

The truck is temporarily broke down so I had the pleasure of driving Rob back and forth to work yesterday as I needed the van for the afternoon. It gave us quiet time to share what God is doing in our lives and to be an encouragement to each other, a very rare thing indeed to have an uninterrupted conversation twice in one day. As I was sharing some of my struggles he asked me "What would Trent say to you if he could come back just for a moment?"

It made me look at things from heaven's view again, from an eternal perspective, from the side of God's sovereign plan.

What would Trent say? I can imagine the beaming smile on his face first. That grin from ear to ear. I can almost hear his giggle as I type this and see those sparkly eyes. He sure wouldn't want to stay for more than a moment after being in the presence of his Savior, not even for his mother. I would not want to take him from Him.

Then I can imagine him saying "Hold on Mom, God isn't kidding! He knows what He's doing. See you when you get here! Love you!" He wouldn't encourage me to lament, or waste my time doubting, or whining, or chasing the world. He would, rather, encourage me to only live for Christ, for the gospel going out, for the complete glory of God. He would tell me to go deeper, to give up everything here, to strive to enter the Kingdom even harder, to tell others, to warn, to encourage, to strengthen.

He would share about God. Things I can't even imagine or comprehend. Things he could probably hardly start to explain in a way that I could understand them. He would make me long to be in heaven even more. He would tell me it's real, that it's worth it, to keep fighting the good fight, to keep trusting God.

And then, if there was time, he would ask if we could go fishing.

I sure miss that little bugger.

Never, Ever, Ever

2011-07-12T08:14:00.001-05:00

Anyone who trusts in {God} will never be disappointed.
Romans 10:11
***

Never. Never, ever, ever, ever, ever be disappointed. Doesn't that mean now, too? Not just in eternity, but now, here, today, this moment. As I went to bed in tears last night, and woke up to the same tears this morning, I looked up some verses on worship as I was having a little trouble by myself trying to conjure up worship. I "accidentally" stumbled upon Romans 10:11 and was quickly convicted. Because, you see, I have been feeling disappointed.

Disappointed that my son is dead. Disappointed in God's sovereignty at the core when I am honest with myself. Have my reactions not been screaming that lately, along with my polite heart? Deep, deep down I hate this. The struggle continues to hold God's word above everything in my life. To hold on to His goodness, His truth, His plans, and His wisdom. But lately I have felt defeated, and the worst part, I have been giving in to it. Rob's reaction was the simple question: "Are you fighting?" Head hung low, "No." I have been responding instead. Sulking. Sinking. I forget what the fight is about sometimes.

I praise God for creating His foundation in me before Trent's accident rather than through it. The promises get jumbled. The hopes forgotten under the exhaustion of grief. It doesn't take much to tip the scales. It is so easy to look to today, here, now, to be the answer. God does come here and now, but eternity is where He said it would all be fulfilled. Stand firm. Let the waves crash. Let the attacks come. I hold my head up high as I only have one to give an account to. I hold on tighter to His hand. He has assured me that my salvation is secure in Him alone. In Jesus alone.

I long to be found faithful when I do see Him face to face. Faithful to have trusted Him, even in this. Never disappointed. Knowing that God causes all things to work for the good of those who love Him and have been called according to His purposes. Knowing that He who began a good work in me will finish it. Knowing that He is coming soon, and His reward is with Him. Just hold on, oh me of little faith. I do believe Lord, help me overcome my disbelief.

***
Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.
Romans 10:13

I ... I ... I

2011-07-07T08:11:00.002-05:00

I dreamt about Trent last night. Since the accident I have been asking God for dreams of him. Others have shared their vivid dreams of him and I have been waiting. I actually even forgot that I wanted to dream about him. Sometimes we are surprised when we get the things we ask for. Pleasantly surprised.

We were out riding bike on the road in my dream, the kids and I, when Trent rode up on his orange bike. I told him he was supposed to be dead, and he said no I'm not Mom, I've just been at the hospital. He was just Trent. My Trent. So real, exactly like he was over 4 months ago. Would somebody please stop the nightmare so I can quit thinking that my son is dead? I want to go back to that dream.

I long to feel the enjoyment of life again. I long to be able to sit at a rodeo with my family and believe that something here can be satisfying. I long for that good ol' feeling of quiet summer evenings watching the fireflies without a care in the world. I long to smile and have it be from the inside. I long for lazy content mornings of just relishing in being alive. I long for picnics and horse rides and playing in the pond. I long to go past numb.

I want to walk in the grass and feel it beneath my feet. I want to love my children without fear. I want the joy of just being with them. Making cookies together instead of always working, working, working to stay busy and keep my mind shut off. I want to want to write again. I want to want to take pictures again. I want to want to dream again.

I feel like I am just living my life waiting to die. I don't mean that I am suicidal, I mean nothing in this world brings joy anymore. God alone is my joy and this world demands that I continue to live in it because supper has to be cooked and the mortgage paid. I want my kids to be able to live and enjoy their days while they are here. I don't want to steal their joy here by my pain, by not being here emotionally for them, for always crying over something else.

I don't want anymore firsts. I don't want to cry over cowboys or the national anthem or picking peas. I don't want to doubt. I don't want to remember. I don't want to forget. I don't want to worry if I am pleasing others by grieving right or wrong. I don't want to stuff this. I don't want to miss a single moment of what God has in store through this. I don't want to be of those who shrink back.

I want to be brave enough to cry when I need to cry and laugh when I need to laugh. I want to trust God. I want to hold on. I want to see Heaven. I want to really live, not just go through the motions, until I do see Heaven. I want to know where Trent is. I want to know what God is like. I want to see all that He has promised. I want to draw closer to Him. I want to be obedient. I want to gladly die to myself so that nothing is more important than the gospel going forth.

I just want to crawl into my Heavenly Father's lap and be held until this is all over. I want Him to wipe away the tears now. I want to wait patiently until it is His time.

A Little Lamenting

2011-06-29T08:09:00.000-05:00

We were driving along last night and I saw a guy outside mowing his lawn. Smoking a cigarette and mowing his lawn like there wasn't a care in the world. It made me wonder what it would be like to only care if the lawn needed to be mowed or not. Or what it would be like to be quietly mowing the lawn without the agony of grief. Or even what it would be like to be frustrated because the lawn needed to be mowed again rather than wondering how you will make it through the day only to have to go to bed again to hope to actually sleep and knowing that I have to get out of bed again the next morning.

I've been a bit depressed lately. Exhausted and depressed. Exhausted, depressed, and defeated. I hate exhausted, depressed and defeated. I hate admitting that I am exhausted, depressed and defeated.

I would like to think that there is a battle going on over my ability to rejoice in and trust God right now. I would like to think that it really does matter whether I suffer well or not. I would like to think that for some reason it matters if I continue to shine as a three-watt night light holding out truth, and trust, and the gospel.

But today I am just functioning. It takes all the energy I have to keep looking up and keep holding on. Sometimes that's the way it is. The battle belongs to the Lord and today I am letting Him fight it rather than me. It's not my battle, anyway, in the grande scheme of things. It's not even my strength that fights the battle. So I rest in Jesus and try to remember His promises. I let myself be tired. I let myself be depressed and defeated and look for God even here.

And Then I Make the Coffee

2011-06-23T08:59:00.002-05:00

I have been finding it hard lately to wake up and praise God for my son being in heaven. I know, I know, the fact that I even get out of bed in the morning since my son has died amazes me too most days. But the praise is getting harder. It's not that there is nothing to praise God for, it's that my brain has been in such of a fog again lately that I can't seem to process anything.

My favorite past-time the last few days has been staring. Staring at the weeds in the garden, staring at the chickens, staring at the words in my Bible, staring at the legs on the kitchen stools. I am attributing some of it to the rainy weather we have had and the rest of it to grief up to my eyeballs. I think I may have to go overdose on some Vitamin D and estrogen. What I really need is to overdose on Scripture and time in prayer. If only I had that little cabin out back in the woods ....... I might have to go hide out in the blue tarp tee-pee that is still standing from the Oregon Trail reenactment last spring and see how long I last before the mosquitoes carry me away or the kids or the dog find me.

Life is going on. We are going through the motions. Finding joy as much as we can in the little things. Seeing God move, appreciating all the more His sovereignty, counting our blessings twice, thanking Him for carrying us. I am humbled for those that He has called to lift us up in prayer and to hurt for us. I feel like we are in a little bubble most days. I am a doer and would rather be the one loving, hurting, praying and caring for all of you faithful ones. Know that God hears every prayer and is honoring them to sustain us. I can't imagine going through this without those prayers or without knowing God's sovereignty.

I find myself splitting hairs again and looking for where my real joy is found. I look for it here and now so much, and forget to constantly go to the source of living water, to the well of Jesus that never runs dry. I know so much Christianese that I can convince you all and myself that it is in Jesus alone that I find that joy, but my own fluency in Christianese scares me. I know all the Sunday school answers, but until I come to Him, on my knees, in my brokenness, being real, then I am only playing the game. In Jesus alone will I find strength, and joy, and peace. Not in theology and legalistic stands, but in Jesus alone.

I find in my morning time of longing to truly praise God for Trent being in heaven that I don't even like my mediocrity lately about it, so how do I think that I am fooling God? I long for the praise to truly be from my heart, not just from my lips, not just so that I can check it off my list for the day and go make the coffee. Oh, you don't wake up everyday with these thoughts?

God reminds me again that His love stands firm, that His faithfulness will never fail, that His hand will sustain His children (Psalm 89). All of these trials only point out again the difference between a Holy God and sinful me. The contrast is so evident and again causes me to run to Him alone. They again cause me to only put my trust in Jesus who saves. They make me clearly see how amazing it is that God saves any of us. How amazing it is that Trent is before Him right now. How amazing God is for all of the details that He ordained for Trent to be there, and was so gracious to have shown us.

I can praise God for revealing Trent's salvation so clearly. I can praise God for saving Trent in the first place. I can praise God for every little detail of the accident and how gracious He was to make it happen the way that it did. I can praise God for the hope of seeing Trent again one day. When I forget these things I can simply praise God for being God. The great I AM. The deliverer, the sovereign one, the King of Kings and Lord of Lords.

Then I can get out of bed and make the coffee and face the day prepared to do the good works that God has prepared for me to do today.

Do You Know?

2011-06-19T08:58:00.001-05:00

Do you know that sometimes it scares me to think that soon Trent's pictures are all going to start getting outdated? The other kids will all outgrow him and he will still be twelve years old. Do you know that it scares me that we have already gone through so many firsts~ and one day there won't be any more firsts without him? Do you know that it scares me that if I stop working and writing that one day I just might not be able to go on? That it would mean that I have to come out of my little bubble and face reality.

And then this morning, as I was reading in John 5 (specifically verses 30 and 44) I had to ask myself this question: "Who am I doing this for {grieving, living, obeying}?" Jesus said : "By myself I can do nothing;.... for I seek not to please myself but Him who sent me." "How can you believe if you accept praise from one another, yet make no effort to obtain the praise that comes from the only God?" Am I living to please God, others, myself?

And then these quotes hit home:

"Before we can be clean and ready for Him to control, self-seeking, self-glory, self-interest, self-pity, self-righteousness, self-importance, self promotion, self-satisfaction, ~ and whatsoever else there be of self~ must die." Leonard Ravenhill

"By nature the throne-place, our heart, is quite fully occupied with self. And self does not want God to rule as king, but only to serve as slave-servant." Rex Andrews

Ouch.

Cole read me the story of Naamen the other day while I was weeding in the garden (see~ science, reading, working all in one!). It stopped me in my tracks in the middle of the beans and made me realize how, like Naamen, I grumble at God's ways. I realized how I had been questioning God and asking (really, down deep in my heart, telling Him that he must have made a mistake, that He could have done it better, that He didn't know what He was doing, just in a very polite self satisfying way) "Couldn't this have been done differently, God? Couldn't salvation have been shown to so many others without taking Trent? Why did it have to be this way?"

But then I realized that it is this way. This was God's way. It is four months later. My whining won't change that, just like Naamen's whining wouldn't change the fact that he had to dunk seven times in that mucky water to be cleansed. That was how God chose to do it. This is how God chose to do this. And like Naamen, I can chose to trust God or not trust God. Who am I to tell the potter how to make His vessels whole?

Gulp!

2011-06-19T08:55:00.000-05:00

I've just gotta tell you. I've been keeping it a secret for too long...... I wrote a book. Not a few goofy thoughts with a few off-chance cute pictures, but a real book. It feels weird to hold it in my hands and to realize that I wrote a book. Not that I don't ramble on and on or anything, or that I have only wanted to write a book since I was nine years old, but I actually wrote a book.

In all honesty, I was only being obedient, and I only wrote what God gave me to write. It is my sanity that is in those hundred-and-twenty some pages. Maybe that's the part that is surprising and amazing to me. Maybe that's why my head feels so empty and I am in a daze (wait I feel that way a lot of the time). But I wrote a book. A real book.

After Trent died God slowly impressed upon me to write a book about what He was doing in our lives. At first I thought it was just me. But God wouldn't let up and He continued making it clearer and clearer through several people (thanks faithful ones:) to the point that I could not deny it. So I quit fighting it and I wrote.

I look at the manuscript and I am amazed. I look at all the details coming together to have it edited and published and I am even more amazed, and a bit scared to tell the truth. God is really doing this. I fight my pride and pray for God to shine through it, not me.

Rob read it~ he laughed, he cried, he rejoiced in His Savior. Here we go........ Hold on.

I'm Gonna Cry, Cry, Cry

2011-06-16T08:54:00.000-05:00

I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. Today marked another first. The first youth group trip that our church has taken since Trent's accident. Our kids decided not to go, but we were asked to drop off a friend who was going. No big deal. Until I pulled into the driveway, saw all the excited teenagers getting ready for a fun filled weekend, and realized that Trent was on the last trip and never came back home. I fought the tears as I drove away. I thought of Rob driving out of that same driveway four months ago with the foreboding feeling that Trent might not be coming back. Everything hit all over again. I cried. I put on my big super-model sunglasses so the kids wouldn't see the tears. I will not go numb. I will not not think of those kids on that trip this weekend. I will not not pray for them as they, too, remember the last youth group trip they were on. I will go forth trusting God. I will keep living.

"For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11 NIV

Just Rambling

2011-06-13T08:52:00.000-05:00

Suffering well is hard to do. It is especially hard when you are a people pleaser by nature. And, I am finding, it is even harder sometimes when you are around other's who have never really suffered, even other Christians. I am finding that it is a lot like raising children~ everybody has their opinion on how you should be doing it. If I am not careful I find myself sinking to the expectations of those comments rather than holding on to the words of scripture.

I have found that some people really don't want you to suffer well. Not on the surface, or said out loud, but maybe suffering well takes them out of their comfort zone. Maybe, somewhere deep down inside, they think that if they consider the possibility of having to suffer in their own lives they don't want to know how to do it and then God can't or won't make them suffer. Aren't we a bizarre creation?

I have been reading 1st Peter the last couple of days and have been so refreshed in what God is doing in my life. Paul starts out by saying that we were chosen according to the foreknowledge of God, through the sanctifying work of the Spirit, for obedience to Jesus Christ. Christ suffered for us, leaving us an example. He says that if we do suffer, we are blessed. Do not fear what they fear; do not be frightened. We are to suffer with the same attitude of Jesus because as a result we quit living for ourselves and this world and rather live for the will of God. Boy, is that true!

One day we will give an account before God, even for how we trusted Him in suffering. We should not be surprised at the painful trials we suffer, but rather should rejoice that we participate in the sufferings of Christ, so that we may be overjoyed when His glory is revealed. So then, those who suffer according to God's will should commit themselves to their faithful Creator and continue to do good. God's mighty hand will lift us up in due time. And the God of all grace, who called me to his eternal glory in Christ, after I have suffered a little while, will Himself restore me and make me strong, firm and steadfast.

Aaahhhh. Things are put back into perspective. I can praise God for his sovereign work in my life. I can praise Him for Trent being in Heaven.

Along with the praise I have asked God that I won't forget Trent. How odd that sounds. But after only four months you do start to forget. There are already little things that Rob remembers and I don't. The phrases he used, the memories of him answering the phone and asking to go fishing every night, not getting out 7 plates anymore. It is all getting too normal.

And more rambling thoughts that have been going through my brain as I have considered the life of Job. I wonder how we must have looked to God, or even to Satan, before the accident. Stepping aside from God's sovereignty (not denying it, just looking outside of it to what we know here and now)~ were we living "Job's" that made us a target for suffering? Were we that risky to the kingdom of the enemy that we were pointed out? Was it asked permission to test us by taking what we loved so much in this world to see if God really was the highest value in our lives? Are you a living Job that you stand out as a target? Will we suffer well as Job did and not deny our God, but rather praise Him in all that He does?

I pray that we will be, even amongst the friends and family and multitude of watcher's as we strive to walk this walk trusting our Savior. I long to stand before Jesus one day and have nothing to be ashamed of, but rather to have trusted and believed Him every single step of the way.

Last Night

2011-06-08T17:15:00.001-05:00

I went to call Trent to come and eat pizza last night.

It has been nearly four months and my mind still thinks he's here. I haven't intentionally looked for him since he died. Even on the way to the hospital the night of the accident I mentally forced myself to only count four heads instead of five. But now.....

My mind goes back and forth between wondering if he ever was here and a part of my life, like an imaginary child or something. My mind can't grasp the reality some days. It is rationalizing his absence.But my soul knows. This mother's soul knows. The ache is because he is my son and he is not here. The joy is because he is with his savior. The two collide. The ache and the joy cannot intermix yet. One constantly demands to rise to the top.

I have determined to not get out of bed until I can praise God that Trent is in heaven. Some mornings I stay in bed longer, waiting for the real praise to come from my heart. Sorting this world and that world. Recalling scripture. Remembering how good God is. Remembering that He is sovereign. Remembering how much I long to be in heaven, too.

I look for the good works that God had prepared for me to do as I lay in bed trying to fall asleep at the end of the day. I wonder how the little things I can see could make eternal differences. I fight to live for my children still here. I fight to do good works for them. I pray for their salvation. I fight hiding in work to avoid feeling and grieving and loving and hurting.

I cry with my husband. Do you know how hard that is to do? To cry for your son together? He whispers God's promises to me and makes me cry again. I see God moving in Him and can see some of those good works first hand before my eyes.

I long for the day it will all be made right.

Some Promises to Ponder

2011-06-06T17:12:00.001-05:00

Shout for joy, O heaven; rejoice, O earth; burst into song, O mountains! For the Lord comforts his people and will have compassion on his afflicted ones.

For I am honored in the eyes of the Lord and my God has been my strength.

See, I have refined you, though not as silver; I have tested you in the furnace of affliction. For my own sake, for my own sake, I do this. How can I let myself be defamed? I will not yield my glory to another.

I am the Lord your God, who teaches you what is best for you, who directs you in the way you should go.

Before I was born the Lord called me; from my birth he has made mention of my name.

In the shadow of his hand he hid me.

See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands.

I, even I, am he who comforts you.

But my salvation will last forever, my righteousness will never fail.

~~~~~~~

From Isaiah 48-50 NIV this morning.
God's word never fails to encourage. His promises are enough.

Not of This World

2011-06-06T10:30:00.001-05:00

But the Lord's unfailing love surrounds the man who trusts in Him.
~ Psalm 32:10b ~

It's been a tough morning. Actually, a tough night preceded it. An emotional weekend filled with emotionally exhausting events. And to top it off I find when I am bogged down by emotional junk I work harder physically. The tears started late last night and again when I woke up. Lamenting brought on my missing Trent, but going deeper it revealed sins that needed to be repented of and hurts that needed to be drawn out and confessed to my Heavenly Father. Hurts of this world and the pain that is inflicted in it.

I needed to detox of my expectations of being fulfilled and satisfied here and lay my soul bare before my Creator. Rip the scab covering of coping and stuffing off and feel the raw oozing pain of hurt. And it hurts. Until Jesus comes back it will hurt. Until I am sanctified through and through it will hurt.

I worry more when I am content in this world than when I am struggling. Contentment means I am at a standstill. Contentment means I have gotten lazy. Contentment means I am not searching out the greater things of Christ and that there is no growth. God does give us breaks, but He grows His children. He pry's our hands off of this world and it hurts because we hold on so tightly and refuse to let go. We long for what we know instead of what He has for us~ greater things than this world could ever offer.

This enemy land with a prince masquerading in light lulls us into being comfortable. When Kingdom work gets a little too intense the enemy attacks harder. Wonder what I'm talking about? Try sharing the gospel with somebody today and see if you aren't attacked. Try being a light in a dark environment and see if Satan doesn't want to put it out. I am always blindsided afterward by the attacks. I should come to expect them by now. After my high I think again that I am infallible. I forget the impact that could be made if a young dad would be saved, leading his girlfriend and children along with him and changing his family and his world around him.

May I fight all the harder. May I endure the battle. God let me willingly lay down my life again and again for your Kingdom and your Glory. Don't let me hide on my little goat farm and not care. Don't let me become apathetic again about You. People are perishing in front of my eyes, and I wonder what's for supper. Make my trust in you be so great that I am willing to endure painful things that you may shine brighter in me. Lord, let your Kingdom come. Shake the gates of Hell, Christian sister and brother. Get off your recliners and fight. Dear Lord, let me get off my recliner and fight.

Some Days

2011-06-05T10:27:00.001-05:00

Some days..........
I don't want to be the mother who's son died.
Some days........
I am afraid the reality will sink in and I will go absolutely crazy and will never recover.
Some days...... for a few moments......
I forget the promises and feel myself sinking fast.

I Took A Walk

2011-06-01T10:26:00.000-05:00

I took a walk the second morning of camp. I walked up to the climbing tower where three months ago I released my son's ashes. I went alone. I just needed to be with God and cry and face it. I thought of when Trent was little and climbed that tower fearlessly for the first time. I thought of my own climb up that rock wall years ago. I thought about the joy of reaching the top and the fear and the thrill of jumping off. I thought about climbing the inside stairs three months ago. I thought about the peace and the joy. I thought about his ashes flying wherever God spread them. I thought about the rest of my life without him. Then I thought about the God who said I only have to live one day at a time. Then I cried some more. I didn't fight the tears. I didn't stuff anything. I felt the pain. I let the tears flow. Just me and God facing that tower. Then I walked back the long way to chapel where a God sent pastor was preaching a sermon about Joseph who learned to understand, just like I am learning, that God ordains all things for our good and His glory. Even the pits and the prisons and the deaths of those we love. And a friend cried with me, and laughed with me, and we had our own sermon in the midst of his. And God was there. And I did it. I faced it and I reached the top victoriously. And Trent is still in heaven.

I Tremble at His Word

2011-06-01T10:00:00.000-05:00

I feel like the voice of doom every time I sit down to write these days. I hop around other blogs and enjoy reading about other farm wives and their happenings, or catch the titles of the latest breaking Yahoo news of who's wearing what or how many calories are in the newest chocolate dessert, and then here I am pondering eternity and salvation and death and grief again. The words that I read in scripture this morning cry out "You women who are so complacent, rise up and listen to me; you daughters who feel secure, hear what I have to say! ..... In little more than a year you who feel secure will tremble; the grape harvest will fail, and the harvest of fruit will not come. Tremble, you complacent women; shudder, you daughters who feel secure! ..... yes, mourn for all houses of merriment and for this city of revelry." Isaiah 32.

I look back and wonder what I would have thought reading that passage a year ago. I recall reading the words before, but I am pretty sure that I skimmed over them. Four months ago I would have probably skimmed over them even if somebody had warned me. Three months later, I am trembling. I am counting what really matters. I am listening closer to God. I shudder. I only feel secure knowing that I am in the palm of my Heavenly Father's hand, knowing that He is in charge. I take every word of Scripture to mean so much more. I spend more time reading my Bible and praying than ever before~ looking for the promises, counting the days until He fulfills them, waiting impatiently for my Savior.

I used to feel secure. I now feel the weight of this sinful world. I mourn for those who find their joy and merriment here. I try to balance the joy and the desires of this world with the contrast of seeking the heavenly kingdom. So much of my time and energy and money have been invested here. What will any of this matter? What will I take with me? How much of it will last for eternity? What will be considered jewels and what will be considered hay and stubble in eternity? If I drink milk from my very own goats and eat farm fresh eggs and organic vegetables will God really care? If I ignore Him and chase the world will He care? If I refuse to obey Him or to train up my children in Him won't there be lasting consequences?

With all that is in me I cling to God. When His statutes are blasphemed or ridiculed I hurt. I hurt for Him, but also for the ones who would dare to treat Him with contempt, the ones who are blind and will one day see that He wasn't kidding. I shudder at my own sinfulness. How long, oh Lord, how long will you continue to put up with us?

Here We Go

2011-05-27T09:04:00.000-05:00

In His grace, God has brought me back again to Habakkuk to gently redirect me and point out my own sinfulness. How sweet He is with His children, yet never yielding His own glory or sovereignty. How loving He is to hold us in His arms while we hurt, but then show us a bit of His splendor when the tears have been wiped away and our hearts are ready to hear.

"Of what value is an idol, since a man has carved it? Or an image that teaches lies? For he who makes it trusts in his own creation; he makes idols that cannot speak" Habakkuk 2:18 What an idol I have started to create to replace the God of the Bible. My idol doesn't take children to heaven at age twelve. My idol just might not have eternity planned out from beginning to end, including February 18, 2011. My idol just might not understand a mothers breaking heart. My idol wouldn't make their children hurt to pry their hands off of this world and turn their deceiving hearts to needing no other earthly thing, replacing it with their only need being God Himself. My idol needed to be smashed before I carved any more details into it.

"Has not the Lord Almighty determined...." Habakkuk 2:13 Has not the Lord Almighty determined the ways of salvation? Has not the Lord Almighty determined how His glory will be revealed in the most magnanimous ways? Has not the Lord Almighty determined He would answer my prayers and make Trent dwell in heaven for eternity? Has not the Lord Almighty determined that He would prove Himself faithful beyond what I could comprehend without this? Has not the Lord Almighty determined the ways and the end and the depth of this pain and grief, only to prove Himself more faithful? Has not the Lord Almighty declared that this life is a mist, even mine? Has not the Lord Almighty used this as a wake up call for not only me, but so many others for salvation, that in eternity I will praise Him all the more?

"But the righteous will live by his faith...." Habakkuk 2:4b Will I live by my faith? Faith in what? My own ideas and idol of this God of the universe, or the real God who I only know through my Bible? My faith is so small. My mind so quickly forgets His promises. My heart is so easily swayed by the pain. How gracious of God to be the one who is faithful.

"For the earth will be filled with the knowledge of the glory of the Lord, as the waters cover the sea." Habakkuk 2:14 But the earth is not yet filled with the knowledge of the glory of the Lord. We still live in enemy territory. The deceit is everywhere~ it trickles into even the believers heart and makes us lose hope. We live short minded and get discouraged. I forget the end. I only know how to live in the now. But one day, one day, the earth will be filled with the knowledge of the glory of the Lord. One day I will live eternally with my Savior. How I long to be found living faithfully until that day comes. How I long to be trusting and serving until it comes, rather than crying in my bed. How I long to walk it hand in hand with Jesus.

"But the Lord is in His holy temple; let all the earth be silent before Him." Habakkuk 2:20 God knows what He's doing. How I pray for Him to let me trust Him in that. I try to envision Him sitting on His holy throne, His robes filling the courts, the multitude of angels and witnesses, with Jesus on His right side, with Trent before Him, face to face, knowing what I cannot imagine, longing to see for myself. The Lord is in His holy temple and He does know what He's doing. One day I will too. For today I just trust.

"His splendor was like the sunrise; rays flashed from His hand, where His power was hidden." Habakkuk 3:4 "His ways are eternal." Habakkuk 3:6b Splendor that I cannot even imagine. Power that I cannot even imagine. Eternity that I cannot even imagine. I bow, humbled, before this amazing God who loves even me.

"For I am going to do something in your days that you would not believe, even if you were told" Habakkuk 1:5b Again, I am humbled to think of how I doubt God's sovereignty. How can I believe what I cannot see? How can I believe when the waves of pain threaten to overtake? Because God said so. I hold on to my life preserver. One day, one day....

"The Sovereign Lord is my strength; He makes my feet like the feet of a deer, He enables me to go on the heights." Habakkuk 3:19 Praise your name Lord Jesus.

I Don't Want To

2011-05-26T12:17:00.002-05:00

Tomorrow is camp. The first camp without Trent. I don't want to go without him. I don't want another first. I don't want to smile all weekend and I don't want to cry all weekend. I don't want it to be the day before camp without him and have to trust God for this too. I don't want to pack and not pack his clothes. I feel like just packing him a bag anyway because then it's not the first, somehow part of him will be there with us. I don't want to see the zip line. I don't want to be a chicken and not jump off like I said I wanted to three months ago. I don't want it to be three months without him. I don't want to wait the rest of my life to see him again. I don't want to go into the dining hall and not see him first in line. I don't want to sit in chapel and not see his ken-doll locks in the first row. I just want to go back to bed and stay there until I die. I don't want to be strong and I don't want to be weak. I don't want to do this without him. It just hurts. There is no cure for missing somebody, not even time. Do I quit missing my son in three months, three years, thirty years? How do I live for thirty more years missing him? Yes, I trust God, yes I know this is for a purpose, yes I know Trent is in heaven, but I still miss him. Help me Lord, I can't do this today.

I Found These

2011-05-26T12:00:00.000-05:00

God continues to allow us to laugh. What a gift in itself. Through the heartache and the pain God continues to sprinkle in much joy. I was in the classroom hanging up a timeline picture the other day when I happened to look over at Trent's desk. His books and belongings were still piled on top of it, but one tablet had fallen to the floor. It was his spelling tablet. I had intended to just put it back on the desk, but I longed for a bit of him so I opened it up to see his twelve-year-old-boy handwriting, expecting pages full of word lists. There on the first page was an essay he had written and as I continued to turn the pages more essays were mixed in amongst the spellings lists and tests. To think of the days, just months ago, that he wrote those honest, silly words about his bad attitude brought us all near to tears from laughing so hard. This boy, who hardly wrote anything, had left us a bit of himself for such a time as this. How I miss him and long to hear his laughter again.

How Are You Doing?

2011-05-24T09:18:00.003-05:00

How are you doing? I am beginning to dislike that question more and more. Do you mean how am I right now? How was I twenty minutes ago? Do you really care how I am or are you just asking to be polite? Do you really want to know or should I just smile?

Do you know how I am this morning? The coffee pot broke. Ka-put. It's an old time percolator and it may have perked it's last perk. Some days lately it makes black coffee, and some days it makes yellow water. I dumped the first pot today and tried again and got the same yellow water. That's how I am today. I've cried. I've sought God. I've washed laundry. Now I sort. Sort thoughts and theology and plans for the day. Fight the tears again and trust God again. Look away from where Trent always sat on the couch, then look back. Consider, again, seriously looking for an antique trunk to finish packing away the rest of his earthly belongings, then decide I really don't want them put away. I don't want him forgotten in our daily lives yet. I want the reminders surrounding me. I take another drink of my yellow sugar water and consider visiting Russell for some real black coffee. But I need to cry by myself first.

Scripture puts things into perspective. Paul reminds me that God really does know what He is doing, that the most important thing is that the gospel goes forth, that to die is gain~ even for your son, that to go on living in this body means fruitful labor, that God who began this good work in me will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus. So I commit myself again to wait. I will strive to do everything without complaining, allowing God to work in me, trusting that as I hold on to and hold out the word of life that God will make it shine like the stars in the universe.

I will try to find joy in being poured out like a drink offering for God's glory, forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead. I will press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus because I know that my citizenship is in heaven, not on this earth, and I eagerly await my Savior from there. Again, I will rejoice because I know that my Savior is near and that He will guard my heart and my mind and will meet all my needs according to His glorious riches. Armed with that knowledge I will face the day, the kids, the schooling, the chores, the critters and the coffee pot for round number three. Lord willing.

The Cry of My Heart

2011-05-23T09:15:00.000-05:00

I should change my name to Anna, and maybe I'll add Simeon as a middle name or a last name. I might just move into the temple, too, and spend all my time fasting and praying, worshiping God night and day. All the more the only thing I find myself doing is looking for the Lord's return, longing for that trumpet call, waiting and worshiping my God. My hands and my body are moving, they continue to find work to do to keep them busy, but my heart and my mind are constantly with God. How long, oh Lord, how long? How long do I have to keep hurting? How long until my Savior comes, bringing His rewards with Him? When will I see your righteousness and your glory for myself? I call upon you, Lord, and will give you no rest until I see you. My heart cries out for you in my distress, save me, in your love and mercy redeem me, lift me up and carry me. I take delight in you, oh Lord, I rejoice in you. How long? How long, oh Lord? I am tired of this world. I am tired of sin. I am tired of pain. I am tired of being prim and proper rather than screaming the insanity from the rooftops. I am tired of faking it. I am tired of pretending. I don't fool you, God, for you know my real heart. In you I am who I am, who you made me, there is no pretending, only joy and freedom. Let me be all the more in you. Use my tears, dear Lord, let them be turned into a crown of splendor in your hands, a royal diadem in the hand of my God. Let your righteousness and your glory be seen through them. Let me see your righteousness and your glory through them. Let me see past the hurt and the pain and see you.... see your hand and your plan and your end results. Hold me in your arms, in the palm of your hand. Just love me, Lord. I can't figure out the theology and the rights and the wrongs of it all today God. I just need you.

Riding the Waves

2011-05-22T09:14:00.000-05:00

Sad. Happy. Crying. Exhaustion. Joy. Remembering. Forgetting. Rejoicing. Anticipating. Holding On. Struggling. Missing. Longing. Praying. Memorizing. Trusting. Waiting. Processing. Laughing. Loving. Just Living. Then I get out of bed and make the coffee.

Refreshing Words

2011-05-21T09:13:00.000-05:00

Endure hardship as discipline; God is treating you as sons. For what son is not disciplined by his father? If you are not disciplined, then you are illegitimate children and not true sons. No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it. Strengthen your feeble arms and weak knees. Make level paths for your feet, so that the lame may not be disabled, but rather healed.

He regarded disgrace for the sake of Christ as of greater value than the treasures of Egypt, because he was looking ahead to his reward. All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance.

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. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning the shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.

Our weakness {will be} turned to strength. God has said "Never will I leave you, never will I forsake you."

Encouragement from Hebrews 11-13, NIV, this morning.

Stark~Raving Crazy

2011-05-18T09:11:00.000-05:00

There is this part of grief that I am not sure if anybody has coined a term for yet. I call it stark-raving crazy. Doubt that one will make the books, but I think I should get as much of a say as anybody else who's never been in my shoes of grief before, so that's my term for it. It's the days that you want to say "Okay God, enough, I trust you, let me wake up now." The days that you just want to go pull your son out of the closet and say "April fools! HAHAHAHA! Fooled you all!" The days that you just want somebody to commit you to the insane asylum so you can get an IV hooked up in several different veins with lots of good drugs and go to some happy place from three months ago. Those days usually come after a couple of good days. All of a sudden it hits you after a time of total bliss and contentment and joy and smiling and wondering what in the world could you have ever been so sad about because your son is in HEAVEN after all! Then BAM! How could I be happy that my son is dead? Oh yeah, that's right God, this is the pit you were talking about when my mind takes over and my spirit forgets what your word says. Those guilty feelings that I was having for being happy for your peace always bring me right back to this same miry, nasty, deep, painful pit. Throw that rope down here, will ya? I wanna go back to happy. I wanna be done now. I don't want my son to be dead anymore God.

It Is Well

2011-05-17T09:09:00.002-05:00

Along with the sunshine God has brought joy again to my heart! At least with the morning coffee and time in His word. Afternoons get hard, nights usually harder, and I am ignoring the fact that tomorrow is the 18th. But this morning~ JOY! And I'm taking it! Joy for a God who saves! Joy for a son in heaven! Joy that I can trust God until I get there!

Here's a little spiritual twist that came up in the garden yesterday while Alexis and I were planting peas. Somehow, as we were talking about Trent, the conversation turned to the subject of coveting. Coveting, in a grande form, of God's plan for Trent's life. As we mourn and weep for ourselves it is so easy to turn that sorrow into a reason to not live the lives that God gave us and to quit seeking the good works that He prepared for us to do while we are here.

Now I don't mean to dismiss mourning, not at all, but rather to point out just a glimpse of the depth of misunderstanding that we as sinful human creatures have of this almighty God and how little we really know or trust Him. This was God's plan for Trent's life, just as God plans other things for other peoples lives that He will be glorified in it.

In some way my brain is trying to wrap itself around the thought to figure out Trent's complete joy in being in heaven along with finding my own joy here (the parallel of Trent being where he is and me being where I am/heaven's joy versus earth's joy) and somehow equaling out to God's master plan throughout it all. If I've lost you in my brain tracking, don't worry, I haven't quite figured it out yet either. But somehow, in God's master plan, it is good for Trent to be in heaven while we are all still here...........

I loved these verses from Psalm 126 this morning:

Those who sow in tears will reap with songs of joy. He who goes out weeping, carrying seed to sow, will return with songs of joy, carrying sheaves with him. The Lord has done great things for us, we are filled with joy!

Yes, He has and Yes, we are!

I Wish, I Wish, I Wish

2011-05-16T09:06:00.002-05:00

My brain feels fried. I feel it longing to go numb and I fear numb more than I fear pain. I feel like I am on overdrive, stuck in four wheel mode, working it too hard, and it is getting tougher to decipher things clearly lately. I force myself to write in the hopes of dislodging it and sorting a few things out. To lay the words on paper, or in cyberspace, to get them out of my head. To leave them here to come back to if ever need be, even for no other reason than a way to remind myself of the fingerprints of God throughout this journey of Trent's death. To free my brain and lay my burdens down at the foot of the cross. The weight lessens with every word that is released.

I miss the first days after Trent died. I miss the absolute assurance of God's promises. The freshness of them and the great hope in them. Somewhere along the line in the past near three months the cares of this world have snuck in. My flesh and my desires have overruled. My longings have become greater than the word of God. My heart has deceived me yet again. "Set me free from my prison, Lord, that I may praise your name" I cry as the psalmist cries. Let the praise be again from my lips, from my heart, from my whole being.

But I replace praise with wishing. Wishing Trent would just come down those steps again this morning. Wishing it really was his voice that I heard while I was digging in the freezer in the garage. Wishing he could see the barn work that we dreamed about. Wishing I could care that the garden is almost planted. Wishing that he could be the one trapping that pesky gopher in the yard instead of waiting for Rob to do it. Wishing I could feel him in my arms again. Wishing I would hold my other children tighter rather than being a zombie mother. Wishing I wouldn't fight with my husband when I really just want to cry with him and have him hold me while I do. Wishing I could be brave enough to just let the tears flow when they need to flow. Wishing I would draw near to God again and really trust His sovereignty and be content to patiently wait.

Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord; O Lord, hear my voice. Let your ears be attentive to my cry for mercy. I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in His word I put my hope. My soul waits for the Lord more than watchmen wait for the morning. O Terri, put your hope in the Lord, for with the Lord is unfailing love and with him is full redemption. God did redeem Trent from all of his sins and has only done what pleases Him and answered all my prayers for my son's salvation in doing it.

(My rendition of Psalm 130 this morning.)

Dinner Preparation Conversation

2011-05-15T09:05:00.001-05:00

Micah: "Mom, do you think about Trent alot?"
Me: "Yep."

Micah: "Do you think about him all the time?"
Me: "Yep."

Micah: "Do you miss him all the time?"
Me: "Yep."
Micah: "Me too."

My Victory Garden

2011-05-14T09:04:00.000-05:00

I planted a little victory garden ~ a victory over death garden. As painstaking as it was to stand at the seed display at Farm and Fleet a couple of weeks ago and pick out nearly every blue flower they carried, I did it. Trent's favorite color was blue. Not that blue flowers will bring him back, but blue flowers will remind me over and over again of the victory that we will one day have in Christ. Those blooms will remind me that death has no victory; that separation by death is only for a short while. They will remind me of God's beauty that is continuously poured out on His children. They will remind me that life goes on and can be beautiful, even in pain. They will remind me of Trent and how much I love him.

Hosea 7:14

2011-05-13T09:02:00.001-05:00

"They do not cry out to me from their hearts but wail upon their beds." Hosea 7:14a

Lately I have been doing more wailing upon my bed than crying out to God from my heart. It hasn't gotten me anywhere, other than running away from God and losing sight of His perspective. When I can't write I know I'm not dealing with things and only find that stuffing doesn't help either. So I write~ short, choppy, no elegance, ugly, pain, sorrow, blunt, hard, did I say ugly already. I like things pretty, I like things comfy and antiquey, a few scuff marks are cute and add character. But raw is where the scuff marks begin. Right now I feel raw. Pure blood and gore and ooze. Ripped wide open raw, and it hurts to the depths of my soul. Pain with no balm other than time. A good friend encouraged me by reminding me that missing my son is not distrusting God. So I crawl into the lap of my Heavenly Father and cry again. I go back to His word and find strength again. And then I go back to my bed and wail upon it again. I acknowledge God who has ordained all of this, even the hurt. I praise Him that Trent is with him. Then I cry for my own pain of missing my son. For a world where there is sin. For the sorrow involved. And then He tells me It Is Okay~ okay to hurt, okay to laugh, okay to cry, okay to dance. So I go on again hurting, laughing, crying, waiting, healing, missing.

Silence

2011-05-11T08:59:00.003-05:00

Sorry for the silence lately friends~ I have been doing quite a bit of personal writing and guess I just wrote myself out. I find writing can be exhausting and yet so healing at the same time. Sometimes it takes more effort to sit at a computer desk and pour out your heart than to do twelve hours of physical work. I tried the physical work route yesterday and found that my brain still wasn't done processing a bunch of things ~ guess I can't run, hide, or work my way away around the pain of missing my son. Blah! I'm tired of making people cry I guess, and also wanted a break from making myself cry. I've been writing a lot about God's work in my life and thought I was cried out, but I'm not. On to something else.....

Farm life has been keeping us busy with lots of new critters and spring projects that beckon to be finished. Posts and pictures to come soon, Lord willing. Over the weekend Rob took Alexis and Grace with some friends and their youth group down to a John Piper conference in the twin cities (which was amazing I hear), but {I'm gonna cry again} it was so bittersweet because last year Trent was with, another first. But I know where he is, and the God he is with, which makes this tolerable.

I made it through Mother's Day~ thanks for the sweet thoughts and the encouragement that day all you special ladies who were thinking of me. I am not too big on dates and holidays, but it was still the first. Our tradition for the last couple of years has been to work a little more on the horse arena and this was the year that I was hoping to get the entrance sign hung that was last years mother's day gift. I didn't even have the gumption to ask, so settled instead for a nice card, hugging my children and movie night on the couch.The sun is shining and the day beckons, along with the school lessons and crying goats. Off to see if there's one more cup of coffee first..........

Psalm 119:28 My soul is weary with sorrow~ strengthen me according to your Word.

Psalm 119:175 Let me live that I may praise you!

Morning Glory

2011-05-11T08:55:00.000-05:00

Bad dreams. Skates, not skis, highways, cars, trucks, trees, accidents, where is the body? Attempts at prayers of thanksgiving and the beginning of despair. Closing my eyes shut tight again until I can face the day and let the rejoicing be from my lips and not just the cry of my heart. One peak at the day. Colors beyond description. The sun just beginning to rise above the horizon. Glowing in an otherwise overcast sky. God's glory rises like the morning sun. The heavens declare His majesty. As I lay in bed refusing to open my eyes my God has been continuing on with His work that is glorious. And I almost missed it because of my own fear of simply opening my eyes to see it. I stand in awe once again, hands raised, and praise the God above who gives and takes away. He knows what He is doing, and He is rejoicing over it.

Good Days

2011-05-05T00:17:00.000-05:00

May 4, 2011

I like good days. The days when I can keep it all in perspective, or rather the days that I draw near again to God. The days that He allows peace and joy and smiling and actually feeling emotions beyond pain. I have tried so hard to just be where God has me~ the good, the bad, the ugly. I don't like the ugly. I don't like the pain or the heartache or the despair of grief. But God leads us there sometimes. Maybe to see the depth of sin that lead to death? Maybe to hold us closer? Maybe so on the good days we cling to Him all the more?

Today is a good day, at least a good morning. Only one episode of longing, close to tears, a desperate wanting of my son. I have made it a requirement that before I open my eyes and crawl out of bed I praise God and thank Him for letting Trent be in heaven. Acknowledging God's sovereignty and goodness to His children. Reminding Him and myself of the sweet verses in Scripture. Never will He leave me or forsake me; I am in the palm of my Heavenly Fathers hands; God is leading me; nothing can separate me from the love of Christ, not even death; God causes all things to work for the good of His children; these present sufferings will not be worth comparing to the glory that will be revealed in us; eternity is a very, very long time and I get to enjoy it all with Trent.

"I know that joy does not depend on circumstances; it depends on my openness to allowing Your Spirit to have control in my life. Lord, I surrender my life to You today. Make me to be known as a person of great joy." Author unknown.

You will show me the path of life; in Your presence is fullness of joy; at Your right hand are pleasures forevermore. Psalm 16:11