The day is done.
His birthday over.
There was no cake.
I couldn’t.
But one of his friends sent me a picture of one she baked.
This mama’s heart swelled with gratitude.
He is remembered.
There was no cake.
I couldn’t.
But one of his friends sent me a picture of one she baked.
This mama’s heart swelled with gratitude.
He is remembered.
We tried to have a bonfire; but like last year, the rains came and the heaven’s declared their majesty.
The beat of the thunder kept cadence with the rain.
We gathered on the front porch.
We stormed the throne of grace in prayer.
Thanksgiving for being held.
Strength for the future.
Time together.
I climbed the stairs to say good night to the crew.
I paused in his doorway.
I leaned into the frame.
I waited for the tears.
None came.
In some ways it’s too hard to think about.
In some ways I need a break from the relentless missing.
Aching.
I need to pick up this room.
I don’t want to.
I want to change the course of the events of July 28, 2013.
But I can’t.
My sister in law shared with me a nugget I am holding to tightly.
When we play chess.
We see one move at a time.
God sees the whole board.
He knows all the moves.
Let God make the moves.
I waited for the tears.
None came.
In some ways it’s too hard to think about.
In some ways I need a break from the relentless missing.
Aching.
I need to pick up this room.
I don’t want to.
I want to change the course of the events of July 28, 2013.
But I can’t.
My sister in law shared with me a nugget I am holding to tightly.
When we play chess.
We see one move at a time.
God sees the whole board.
He knows all the moves.
Let God make the moves.
As I sat on my bed I realized we hadn’t sung happy birthday.
I started to sing myself.
Alone.
The tears came.
I can’t finish the song.
It doesn’t seem right.
Happy Birthday is for the living.
For this life.
Here.
His song now, is different.
He sings, Holy, Holy is the lamb that was slain.
I started to sing myself.
Alone.
The tears came.
I can’t finish the song.
It doesn’t seem right.
Happy Birthday is for the living.
For this life.
Here.
His song now, is different.
He sings, Holy, Holy is the lamb that was slain.
Revelation 5:13
“To him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb be praise
and honor and glory and power,
for ever and ever!”
Oh, what he sees.
Beauty.
Holiness.
Untold Joy.
So I stop singing.
And for just a moment.
I feel whole.
I stay in that place.
Praising my Savior.
Holding on to His Grace.
Holy, Holy is the Lord God Almighty.
Who was, and is, and is to come.
Praise to the King of Kings.
You are my everything.
