Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Seeing God

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

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.

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

Tuesday, August 23, 2011


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, August 20, 2011

Saturday Morning Ramblings


"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

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Be Careful What You Ask For

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

Sunday, August 14, 2011

The Seed

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?

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?

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

In God Alone

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.

Thursday, August 4, 2011

Sufficient Grace


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.