I stand still in the kitchen.
I have cried out to God most of the day.
I am tired of cancer. I am tired of missing my son.
My soul is unsettled and I long for peace.
So I stand.
In the kitchen that I hardly use any more.
Meals continue to come.
I have little to offer.
My soul weary from the battle.
So I stand.
It is quiet.
I breathe deep.
I sense the presence of God.
The peace that passes all understanding surrounds me.
For a moment the cancer is gone, the sting of death is appeased.
I stand for a moment on Holy Ground.
It has been 6 months.
6 months since our red headed boy was torn from us.
Since I have seen his blue eyes, heard him call me mom;
since my heart was shattered into a million pieces.
6 months of leaning into a life I don’t like.
Since I have seen his blue eyes, heard him call me mom;
since my heart was shattered into a million pieces.
6 months of leaning into a life I don’t like.
6 months of walking by faith alone.
The journey has not been easy.
Many transitions, diagnosis of cancer, continued financial strain and dark, cold days.
The song lyrics, What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. . .runs through my head.
Because I am only as strong as I am weak.
6 months of breathing in deep the crushing pain; the missing.
The necessity of stepping forward each moment to get to hospital appointments, to attempt to get the other parts of necessary completed.
6 months of learning my absolute dependence on God.
There is no other way.
6 months of realizing there is no more future for one.
But there is hope and there is grace for those left behind.
6 months is a long time.
And thinking of longer is brutal and stabs the heart.
But in God’s timing it is but a breath.
So we will continue to walk one step a time.
I don’t want a future with out my son.
But I want a future walking God’s way, more.
I don’t want a future with out my farmer.
I want a future completely dependent on God.
I don’t want to leave God’s presence. Not for a moment.
I am held. He is there.
Even when it falls apart. Even when I feel alone.
And as I continue to stand.
I will breathe in deep.
I will rest, in His unfailing love.
Because I am only as strong as I am weak.
6 months of breathing in deep the crushing pain; the missing.
The necessity of stepping forward each moment to get to hospital appointments, to attempt to get the other parts of necessary completed.
6 months of learning my absolute dependence on God.
There is no other way.
6 months of realizing there is no more future for one.
But there is hope and there is grace for those left behind.
6 months is a long time.
And thinking of longer is brutal and stabs the heart.
But in God’s timing it is but a breath.
So we will continue to walk one step a time.
I don’t want a future with out my son.
But I want a future walking God’s way, more.
I don’t want a future with out my farmer.
I want a future completely dependent on God.
I don’t want to leave God’s presence. Not for a moment.
I am held. He is there.
Even when it falls apart. Even when I feel alone.
And as I continue to stand.
I will breathe in deep.
I will rest, in His unfailing love.
Draw me close to you Lord.
Never let me go
I’ll lay it all down again
To hear you say that I am your friend
You are my desire,
No one else will do
Cause nothing else can take your place
Oh help me find a way. . . .
You’re all I want. . .You’re all I’ve ever needed.
Your community/friends/family are holding you up in prayer. These are such difficult days. The "firsts (six month anniversary, etc.)" are awful. No way around it, but to just walk with God through it. You will get through these days, one moment at a time, but what a difficult journey. ((hugs)) and love, my friend <3
It is so hard. And it is one moment at a time. . . one precious moment at a time. . .
Hugs and prayers to each and everyone in the Davis Family.
Thank you. . . we so appreciate it.
Hi Tammy, I'm a friend of Dawn's, and I've read your posts over the past couple of months. You're an inspiration. My 19-year-old son is a volunteer firefighter and is in school so he can become a paid one as his profession. It crosses my mind often that I could lose him, and I'm not sure I could even draw my next breath if that were to happen. You've shown me that with God's help, it is possible, though it doesn't make it easy. I'll continue to keep your family in my prayers.
Thank you Laura. Thank you for your son doing such important work. This is a journey no one can imagine. We need to trust each moment for the journey we called to live. We thank you for your prayers. Most days it is the only thing that keeps us going. We can feel them. The Holy Spirit ministers in ways we couldn't even imagine. Each breath is hard. Each step away from the accident so hard. Yet stepping towards God there is hope. Always hope. . .