Before I even open my eyes, I feel it.
I have a headache and the missing is there.
Some days it is not so apparent.
But today it will be my constant companion.
The deep longing.
I want to wriggle out of this skin.
I want all that has been lost to be restored.
But it can’t.
The weight of the loss and what the future will hold threatens to pull me down.
The hot burning has returned.
I make coffee and look at the piles of laundry and book work still needing attention.
The floors that need to be mopped,
the clutter of the Christmas tree and all that comes with entertaining.
Yet I will spend the day at the hospital.
And some days I just wonder what is this all for?
What is the purpose in all this suffering; in the laundry and the cooking, the decorating.
I know there is none, absolutely no purpose, apart from Christ.
It is in him that we move and have our being.
For in him we live and move and have our being.’
As some of your own poets have said, ‘We are his offspring.’
It is for Him that I live. For His purpose. To work out our salvation each day.
Therefore, my dear friends, as you have always obeyed–not only in my presence,
but now much more in my absence–continue to work out your salvation with fear and trembling,
That is the purpose to each day. To seek His face. To find that which is holy.
How do we share the peace that passes all understanding. . .
even in the midst of death, cancer, financial strain.
God is still there through it all.
There are lessons to learn.
There is joy to be found.
Blessings to count.
We had visitors yesterday. The kind that bring joy to my heart.
Friends who hold memories and stories that bring smiles to the room. Stories that remind you of the wonderful young man he was. Stories that link you close for a moment.
And it is there I must remain.
In the memories, in he hope that all will one day be restored.
That Christ wills and purposes in each of us, each day, who are called by his name.
The laundry will wait. The book work will wait.
I will have a date with my farmer.
I will snuggle with the kiddos who will still let me.
We will stay warm because people gathered in community to serve.
The impact and magnitude of that event is still with me.
Though I still wandered in a dense fog, I knew the importance of this gift.
But I didn’t know how important it would become.
Or how our world would continue to change.
Each day that we are warm and no one has to head to
the woods for a bucket of wood I am deeply grateful.
There is hope.
And no matter how hard it gets or how unsteady the ground feels.
There is still One who knows the future. One who not for a moment turns His head.
So today I will reach deep down to the hurt and the pain of loss and the fear of the unknown and I will seek the hope that is there.
I will spend the day on a date with my farmer and I will breathe deep
the opportunity to spend the day with him.
I will find the joy and grace for just this very moment.
You said you’d never forsake me or turn your face from me.
You hide me beneath your wings
Though these trials may shake me, you won’t let them rake me
And I’ll find a reason to sing.
This will be a new day!
There will be a new song!
Lord your joy is my strength.
I have a hope
Do you know that hope? Do you feel that peace?
I long for that, for all.
Thank you Tammy, I really needed to hear that this morning…. I am so often 'driven' to Psalm 73 – it both rebukes and comforts me – but lets me know that these feelings are not unique, and that God is not surprised – and that His comfort is near, even in the words and cries of His people.
"Whom have I in heaven but you?
And earth has nothing I desire besides you.
My flesh and my heart may fail,
but God is the strength of my heart
and my portion forever."