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I Step Out on the Porch

28 Apr

I step out on the porch.
Winter has begun to release it’s hold.
I hang the laundry.
Piece by piece.
I breathe in; longing for Spring.


The sky is overcast.
The 3 days of sunshine earlier this week were tempting us with it’s warmth.
I feel heavy today. 
It’s been a fun week.
I should feel elated and rested.
The kids have been home and their schedules very relaxed.
I continue to hang laundry.
I  hear sirens sounds; louder and louder.
I pray.
I think about my first born.
I breathe in sharply.
I must have subconsciously heard those sirens that night. 
I want to weep.
I look at the date.
57 months.
57 months since I’ve talked with you. 
It seems like an eternity. 
I haven’t been to your grave since the fall. 
I work hard each day to move forward, to remain in the here and now. 
I pray each morning before my feet hit the floor to live this one life well; to make each and every moment count. 
For we never know when it will end. 
Cut short.

And my heart yearns for my boy.
The deep, ache of loss will never leave.
All it takes is sirens to bring me back.

I relive the night over again. 
The voices in the yard, flash light, knocking on the door. 
The realization that the power is out. 


I sit for a few minutes letting this wave of grief wash over me.
To fight it is pointless.
I head back outside to stand for a moment.
The whole farm is coming to life.
Birds have resumed their melodies.
If you’re careful you’re sure to see, right before your eyes, the grass turn various rich shades of green;
the Author of the Universe displaying His Majesty.
It is into the mindset I step.
Giving Praise to the One who is holding my tears.

Psalm 56:8
You keep track of all my sorrows.[a]
    You have collected all my tears in your bottle.
    You have recorded each one in your book.

He will be my comfort until the end of the age.
I will seek to give Praise and Honor to Him my whole life.
The youngest practices her cello.
The washer swishes and turns.
Much of the day is still before me.
A list of to do’s.
I pray a silent prayer thanking God for my 17 years with that red headed, smart, funny boy. 
I really am blessed.


Truly.
I surrender my ache and longings .
The wave of grief subsides.
I rest.
I am held.

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Categories:
Uncategorized
Tags:
faith, Family, Farm life, grief, grieving mom, hope in loss, loss of a child, love

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