Daylight hours are precious and few.
My farmer works on the fence that he and his boy worked on together.
The pain searing like a knife.
Death, the enemy, has taken his son, his friend.
And in the evening, with hushed voices,
we talk of this ache and the purpose God has in our lives.
And how we are going to live with this factured family and
without our Lijy.
God is still God even in the darkest night.
- Blue eyes that haunt my memory
- lopsided grins as he turned and said goodbye, that one last time
- Needlepoint at the backdoor remembering my red head
- Notes and cards with memories written in love
- College visits and a friend that comes with me to hold my hand
- Steps away from the accident leading closer to our home going
- The deep love of Jesus
- Daughters that love each other
- A son that is trying to find his way with out his older brother
- A God that fiercely loves us and won’t let go
- Friends who bring dinner when I am a weeping mess
- A doctor who still makes house calls and listens to all our fears and worries
- A husband that works so hard to provide for our family and never complains. . .ever