Things feel disjointed and out of sorts.
We are in need of hired help.
Farm chores take all day.
There is little time for rest for my farmer.
I am not as gentle as I should be.
I feel crabby a lot.
A really good friend went to see Jesus after a dance with cancer.
She was light and fun.
We raised kids together.
She loved Jesus.
She loved her family.
She loved Creation and all the wonders there in.
I ache for her family.
I ache because I miss her.
I ache because she knows what I don’t yet.
I ache because she’s with my Lijy and others that have gone on ahead.
Things feel disjointed because the farm boy talks of joining the Marines.
He’s been meeting with recruiting officers.
There are so many unknowns.
He’s been working toward the goal of owning his own business.
But he’s young and he longs for much of what he does not understand.
Tonight.
He sends me pictures.
And the disjointed and out of sorts feeling catches in the back of my throat.
The ache I have been feeling trickles down my cheeks.
This road can be so hard sometimes.
These pictures are of his brother.
His only brother, that he adored.
Pictures that were taken when there were new beginnings.
Graduation and a future.
And I miss that oldest farm boy.
With all my being.
I miss him.
And I can’t have him.
I can’t see him or touch him.
I can’t find out how he’s doing.
(though I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he is , oh so good.)
It doesn’t change the fact that it hurts.
AND it stinks.
And now the farm boy wants to walk in his brothers footsteps.
He wants to join as a reserve.
So he’s been training and talking.
And then, sends me these photos.
It is so easy to step into the pit.
To feel the darkness close over; suffocating my being.
The missing.
The ache.
The longing.
The injustice of a life taken at 17.
I cringe when the farm boy expresses his desires.
I want to shout, “NO”!
And freeze time.
I can’t find the pride that I felt when the Oldest farm boy made his choice.
I can’t find the anticipation that we felt as the departure date neared.
Gone are those feelings.
Instead there is dread.
Uncertainty.
Fear.
Until. . .
A thought creeps in. . .
Psalm 46:10
“Be still, and know that I am God;
I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.”
And
Isaiah 41:10
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.
We serve a God who reminds us to be still.
To remember He is God.
He will strengthen us.
He will never leave us.
You see, even when I feel disjointed and out of sorts;
He is working a plan.
A plan that I can not see.
I need reminders of this daily.
For I am short sighted.
I too often get distracted and focus on myself and my limited ability to see.
When we look forward and step out into the path He longs for us to follow,
those feelings of dread, fear and anxiety disappear.
Instead we find peace.
Sweet moments of pure confidence in a loving Savior.
With my whole heart I want to seek the face of Jesus. I want to be more like him in all that I do.
I long to rise with the morning sun and rest in his unending love.
Through these trials I am learning to lean.
I am learning to walk side by side with my Savior who goes before me.
Even when I feel disjointed, out of sorts and crabby.
He can still do a work in me.
Tammy
I so feel some of these feelings….my youngest is set on becoming a Marine also as a pilot. From tiny ballerina to a pilot in combat boots. I stay in prayer
Such wisdom you have. Prayer is the key, the answer the gift.
Tammy, first of all, this is the most beautiful picture – a real treasure. I don’t presume to have the answers we who have suffered tragedies seek. I only know that, for me, acceptance, IS the only answer that has saved my sanity and allowed me to carry on after losing a 5-year old son to a brain infection after four years of living with and loving him through four years of that terrible illness, losing his father six months later, losing my oldest daughter at 42 from a brain tumor, losing my only son and his wife to a senseless, random act of a serial killer, and, for the last 29 years, caring for my dear husband, now 81 years old, who suffers greatly due to diabetic complications, COPD, and degenerative disc disease. Sometimes, it has taken years to get to acceptance, sometimes I have not been on speaking terms with God, but eventually I am on my knees, recognizing, as you, too, know that He has a plan for all of us, and picturing my beloved ones who have gone before me together in love and peace. Gary, his Mom and Dad, and all the Davis family, were part of my life at one time years ago, and I keep you all in my prayers. Wishing you peace.
Oh, the repeated ache and blows to our earthly faith. Yet here, you stand. By grace I am sure. The questions, the heartache, the trusting that comes when dealt blow after blow. Thank you for reaching out. Praying alongside you as we journey this side of heaven.