tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66269104270462200082024-02-18T20:49:08.662-05:00Flowers for MommaBecause sometimes the biggest blessings are found clenched in the tiny fists of your children. This a blog about being a mommy...To children on earth and in Heaven.Wendyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02562980233947814045noreply@blogger.comBlogger54125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6626910427046220008.post-67856292603859210262017-07-24T13:52:00.000-04:002017-07-24T13:52:06.577-04:00"This is the day"I woke up today with a song in my head. Not an unusual thing. I'm sure most people have songs in their head from time to time. Sometimes it's a song you hate and you don't know why its there and why you can't get rid of it. Sometimes its a great song, but you can only remember the one line. Sometimes its a song so inappropriate for the day, and other times it fits like a glove.<br />
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Today's song was one of my childhood songs. "This is the day that the Lord has made, I will rejoice and be glad in it." Seriously? I love that song, but it didn't fit today. Why would I sing a song who's lyrics I didn't agree with for today. What if this is a day I wish the Lord had NOT made? How do I rejoice in a day like today? I pondered it for awhile and decided that I was probably supposed to write about this one. Needing to get a grip on my wandering thoughts, or maybe just an attempt to let them wander a little farther, I decided to "Go to my garden alone....while the dew or rain drops are still on my tomato plants / weeds or Roses as the song says. I would talk with God about this in my wanderings, arguing that I don't like this day. This is a day I wish He didn't make. This is a day I hold my breath through.<br />
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As I sifted through my tomato plants, I came to other side of my garden. The side I didn't keep up with. The side that the crops all seemed to fail this spring. They didn't grow right, so I gave up. I let the weeds grow. I had weeded just a week ago, but the weeds came back. I looked at those weeds and realized that I could either look at them and shake my head with disgust and defeat, or I could bend over and get to work. After all, the rain last night was good for something. It was good for softening the dirt. Good for pulling those weeds. And that is what I did. For hours. Rain makes things grow, but it also loosens the soil around the weeds that need to come out so the good plants can grow. It takes work, but why not do the dirty work of pulling weeds on a day I don't like so much anyway.<br />
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I moved on to my potato plants. Three rows of mounded dirt with dead plants and weeds atop. Those crummy potato plants that grew beautifully until the potato bugs took over. They got away from me. I usually pick them off one by one. This year, they multiplied faster than I could work. I had given up. The plants got eaten. I assumed my harvest would be slim this year, along with the carrots, onions and beets that I planted this spring. I began to dig. Why not? I was filthy anyway. Maybe if I dug up those potatoes next, I could till this half of the garden and begin a late summer planting of this mess. I filled one bucket after another of those potatoes that I thought had failed.<br />
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"Sometimes the blessings come through raindrops (or drops of sweat from my forehead)" Sometimes the healing comes through tears (or exhaustion of digging potatoes in a soggy garden)" God began to show me how I could rejoice in today. In this day. That He made. He gave me a song. He gave me a garden. He gave me rain, and soft soil. He gave me work, hard work. He gave me time with my wandering thoughts. He gave me miracles under the ground. An underground harvest far greater than the plants revealed above the ground. I gave my little girls my childhood memories as they gathered the big and little potato surprises. He gave me exhaustion. The desperate need for refreshing water to drink. He gave me a swimming pool tainted with algae from the hot summer sun to jump in anyway because I needed to be refreshed and any water would do. He gave me words to share. He gave me the ability to know that regardless of my work, He works. His treasures are beyond my ability to see. They are often hidden in the mud. They come through sweat and tears, and exhaustion.<br />
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This morning I read that we are not left to ourselves in the fight of faith. "It is God who works in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure." Philippians 2;13 Even as my efforts failed and the bugs got to the plants before me.....the roots grew deep and the harvest depended on the Lord. Yesterday in church, we learned of the importance of living in such a way that the end is in sight. That we should consider ALL loss if not for Christ. One of children wondered why if those things (meaning our work and accomplishments in each day, and our families, and loves) are good things. I believe if we keep ourselves rooted in the final day...the rest is what God has given to us to equip up along the way.<br />
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I suppose I'm not done learning why I should rejoice in today. I still don't like this day. I never will. But I am thankful for the tools that God has given me to make it thus far.Wendyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02562980233947814045noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6626910427046220008.post-19272567833710097552015-02-02T10:11:00.001-05:002015-02-02T10:12:43.838-05:00Do You REALLY love me?I sat in our brand new attic. It is a part of the new house, but it attaches to the old house. Sounds complicated, but its not. In the attempt to finish the remnants of unpacking I dug into a few more boxes hoping to consolidate and put away. The boxes were filled with tangible memories of days gone by. Yet those days return in an instant at times and have a way of placing me directly in them once again. I wonder why it is that I can not do this with the moments I wish to relive. The ones where I walked down the aisle, or held a new born baby in my arms. But no, they are the ones where I walked down the aisle behind a casket, the scent of flowers over the grave, the boxes of cards I wish i never had to receive, the guest list in attendance at my daughters funeral. Her Funeral. Why? I still could not wrap my mind around this reality even 5 years later. I looked up to notice the corner of the attic designated to hold her belongings. Her life, in rubber made bins, in the attic. It is too much. A reality that I live every day, yet can not grasp one moment of. I asked God aloud "Why?" and "Do you really love me?"<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ashley caring for the first baby "Mae"</td></tr>
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His response came simply. My friend had been pouring over my face book photos of my daughter. She happened to comment on one in particular, one in which Ashley was gently caring for a new born kid from her favorite goat. Her comment drew my attention as well as other friends online to this photo. We all admired the beauty. I remember that day. The day my children got to experience one of the many gifts of farm living....the gift of new life. I enjoyed this moment in time as I looked again and again at this photo.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the new baby "Ruthie"</td></tr>
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It was the next morning. My son went to the barn to care for our animals before school. He came running to the door on this very cold morning with a smile on his face. "MOM....there is a new baby in the barn!" It was from Ashley's goat, the same one that had delivered the baby in that photo. She had not had babies since that first time 5 years ago. I went to the barn to find a little miracle. A precious baby dressed in black silky fur with soft white floppy ears and a little tip of white on her nose. We tenderly enjoyed this baby as we carefully outfitted her stall with hay and a heat lamp.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ashley holding "Mae" 2009</td></tr>
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The miracle in it all was simple. God Said He Loves Me still. Five years later, a new baby. A new life....one identical to the one my daughter once held. Her name is "Ruthie" after my friend who once lived next door. The name means "Companion, friend, and vision of beauty." This baby, I believe was given to me as another visible reminder that God Cares about even the little things in this life. He cares about me even more. He LOVES me deeply. Deeply enough to give me a gift. A gift as simple and gentle as baby goat in the barn. God's son came to us in a barn as well. A Simple and beautiful gift. Jesus, also my companion and my friend, who will sit beside me and love me as open those boxes and visit the places I despise. His Mercies are new every morning! He is faithful!Wendyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02562980233947814045noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6626910427046220008.post-85502306884455974472014-07-16T08:26:00.000-04:002014-07-16T08:26:02.320-04:00Shattered Dreams<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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My little girls watched in admiration and wild dreaming as the bride made her way through the sandy beach to the little aisle way between the white chairs filled with expectant guests. The glow on the little girl faces that were more than privileged to spectate such a dreamy event almost rivaled the glow on the wedding party themselves. I looked around the beach surrounding that little party and noticed the onlooking gaze of "little girls" of ALL ages. Following the ceremony, I heard of dreams. Of desires to be like the bride. To wear their hair that way, or to don a dress so pretty as that one. This is not the beginning of such dreaming. The little girls that fill my every day with life and imagination, have been soaking in all that surrounds them as they begin to dream up their life long desires and wishes for marriage, and children, and homes, and being hostess.....<div>
They desire to tell mommy how to do it differently, and they get in return, "when you are the mommy, you can do it your way." </div>
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My girls are a reflection of myself as a little girl. I dreamed as I played. I dreamed as a teen awaiting for the next big thing. I dreamed as I awaited a shiny new ring, as I donned that wedding gown I had been dreaming of, as I sat on the floor of the nursery folding and refolding those tiny little outfits awaiting the arrival of a little someone....I did this four times. Four babies. I held those babies and dreamed of little feet running bare in the grass, of flowers picked too short clenched in tiny fists, of their "firsts" to come.....I dreamed of them doing all the wonderful things of childhood that I so fondly remembered. Dreams of the freedoms that come with growing older..being old enough to stay up late, to have a sleep over, to walk the mall alone with a friend, to watch grown up movies, to turn 16! To drive a car, to go on a first date, to kiss a boy, to ...... </div>
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This morning as I sit here and write about dreams, I realize they don't always turn out the way we "dream" them to be. Tears run down my sleepy face as I picture an empty driver's seat today. I will not be planning a sweet 16 party for my 11 year old little girl today. There will be no first kiss. I will never know who she would date, or even marry. I will never hold her baby in my arms. No. Reality stings like whip to the soul. My dreams for her were shattered that day, eight days after her birthday, five years ago. I did not dream of this. </div>
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The things we dream of are most often the gifts of joy in life that God has given to us to fill this life and to teach us about himself through living it. I am often reminding my little girls to enjoy today. Don't worry about planning out your life for the future. I tell that only God knows those things,, but it is okay to dream. It's okay to desire the good things life has to offer, they too are gifts from Him. I will not tell them that their dreams may be shattered, that disappointment lurks behind the shadows of our deepest desires. I remind them to live today. To enjoy the place where God has put them now. I remind them that God tells us not to worry about tomorrow. Let tomorrow worry about itself. But live for today. God takes care of the rest. </div>
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God has given us so much more than life itself. He has given us things to dream of beyond the joys in this earthly life. His riches in Heaven that will never ever disappoint. The dreams of heaven, of walking with Jesus, of running through pastures, and standing among the flowers. He will give us a new and perfect earth. No relationship will ever be broken. We will enjoy all He has to offer. We will be with Him and Like him. Nothing will be shattered. We must dream of such things beyond, and cling to the promises of Heaven. </div>
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If only I could be a little girl again. And dream in such innocence. This is the way God wants me to dream of heaven. One day, my girls will stand among their broken dreams. They will see that Mom did too. I pray that as they stand among the things that break, they too will will look up and see what lies beyond this earth will never be shattered, and they too will dream of such things. </div>
Wendyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02562980233947814045noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6626910427046220008.post-39170308573752061822014-03-22T11:24:00.000-04:002014-03-22T11:24:00.031-04:00About a Cabbage Plant<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Last week one of my daughters, Emma, brought home a small cabbage plant. It is a contest for kids to see who can grow the biggest cabbage from these tiny plants. Now if anyone could grow a plant, She could. She has every resource there is considering that her daddy grows plants for a living! Determined to win, she suggested that we plant the cabbage in our greenhouse where the conditions for growth are perfect. That would grow a nice, big plant....but I advised her that planting it outside would be best.<br />
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After many years in the greenhouse industry, I have learned by watching that our strongest and most hardy plants are often grown outside. I told Emma that if she plants it outside, the elements around it will help to make it a very strong plant. It needs the rain and wind and sun and cold above the soil to cause it's roots to grow deep, and it's stem to become strong. The elements, plus nourishment from water, sun, and fertilizer...cause the plant to grow strong. My words came out as information to my daughter about growing her cabbage plant, but they sank into my heart as I realized that the elements of my life and my children's lives are producing in them deep roots and strong stems. The deeper they seek, the stronger they become, the better they can withstand the storms and challenges of this life.<br />
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Later that day, my words returned in a visual image of my friend. She opened the door for me slowly and spoke in labored tired words. She was happy to see me, yet couldn't show it the way she used to. We rested on the sofa, a place that had become too familiar to her. She is laden with the return of cancer and treatments that consume the strength within her. She uses everything she has to accomplish the minimum requirements for each day. I saw the way the elements had beaten her, but I saw more. I saw a cabbage plant pushing it's roots deep into the soil in search of nourishment from the richest soil. I saw a core, that was growing thicker, preparing to support a bountiful fruit.<br />
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As a small child, I love the song "I shall not be, I shall not be moved.....just like a tree planted by the water, I shall not be moved." I often admire the large, tall, thick, and gnarly old trees in the area. They are the ones that seem to make it through the worst of storms! That doesn't mean that they haven't been broken by storms in the past...their scars reflect the days gone by. Those trees are impressive! They have tremendous shade in the summer heat, and are a refuge for many creatures.<br />
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Back to the cabbage plant. Back to person God wants me to become. Back to the streams of water that run deep below the surface. Back to the storms that batter what lies above the ground. Back to the stem which responds to the elements around it by reaching deeper and growing thicker and stronger. The cabbage grows it's foliage first, it strengthens it's core, and pushes the expanse of roots deep for the end result of fruit. The stronger the plant, the greater the result of it's labor!<br />
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I have an image of my friend. I see her roots growing deep, her core growing stronger....the foliage is week and beaten down, yet it will be restored, and fruit is growing and will will be bountiful! Others will reap the bounty of her strength. They will seek comfort in the shade! She will be a source of strength and encouragement for others as they begin to grow and to recover from their storms. I feel myself. I have been beaten, yet the roots are growing deeper, my stem is growing taller and thicker, and there is new growth around the broken pieces. It is gnarled and doesn't look the same as before. My scars draw attention to others, and they take refuge in the bits of shade that I am beginning to provide. My roots grow deep. Deep into streams of healing water. Streams of Christ's unfailing love. He is the nourishment from deep within. And, I sing again....I will not be...I will NOT be moved. Just like a tree standing by the water, I will not be moved!Wendyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02562980233947814045noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6626910427046220008.post-55973204378068621402013-09-21T14:08:00.000-04:002013-09-21T15:37:06.609-04:00Man, Eagle, Lion, and OxFour words jumped off the page this week as I read Ezekiel Chapter 1: Man, Eagle, Lion, and Ox. These were the four faces of the creatures that Ezekiel saw guarding the glory of God in a vision that he had. They were powered by and moved with the spirit. While this passage holds so much more than this, I have wondered why these four words sunk so deep for me. I immediately imagined that the characteristics of these creatures are those that God has chosen for me as an ambassador for Him. I began to research these faces today and stand amazed and convinced that this is what God desires of me. <br />
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Oxen. They are used for hard labor. They are typically used in pairs. They are trained to respond to their master's verbal and even gesture commands. Although they are not as fast as horses, they are stronger, move slower, and their pulling style is steadier. Hard working oxen wear their feet down, so they need to be properly shooed. The training process begins at a young age, and as they grow older, their yolk gets bigger and the load they pull becomes heavier. They have been and are the preferred choice for agricultural work, especially tilling and planting the ground and for harvesting. <br />
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Lions. They are social and live in groups. They hunt their prey and have strong jaws and teeth to devour their food. They have powerful legs and are known for running fast! They are BOLD. They are fierce and their roar commands respect, submission, and authority. "They shall go after the Lord, he will roar like a lion; when he roars, his children shall come trembling from the west." - Hosea 11:10. <br />
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Eagles. My favorite of all. They are amazing birds! Six character traits of eagles stand out. 1. They have fine sight. They can see another eagle flying from 50 miles away. Their eyes are designed for long distant vision and for clarity. 2. They are fearless. They will never surrender to the strength of their prey. 3. They are tenacious. While other birds seek shelter in the storm, an eagle takes advantage of it as it uses the wind to soar high above the storm. 4. They are high fliers. (this amazes me!) They can fly up to 10,000 feet in the air. I have sky dived from this altitude and it took us at least 20 min to reach this height by plane. No other bird can fly this high. 5. They nurture their young. Although they are known to be aggressive, ferocious birds, they are proven to be the most gentle and attentive of all birds to their young. 6. They possess vitality. (this one amazed me more than anything!) They become frail around 30 years old. Rather than succumbing to their lack of strength, they retreat to a mountaintop to rejuvenate. Over a period of about 5 months, they knock off parts of their body ... their beak, their talons, etc. and in time grow new parts, regrowth, which in turn allows the bird another 30+ years to live. AMAZING!<br />
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Man. Men and Women. They are created in the image of God. Genesis 1:27 "So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them." Because we are created in the image of God we possess his traits. We are loving, caring, become angry, we are social, personal, spiritual, intellectual, hard working....and so forth. <br />
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The creatures had each of these faces, yet appeared to Ezekiel as men. I believe that God wants us to be as each of these creatures. He has clothed us with these qualities. He has created in us the ability to hear and obey his commands. He asks us to prepare the soil, plant the seeds of his salvation, and to gather the harvest. This is not easy work, and the older we get, the harder the work. We need to be slow and steady workers for him, capable of carrying heavy loads.<br />
He wants us to be quick, bold, and strong as a lion. He wants us to hear his roar and to come to him when he calls. He has given us a "pride" to dwell in.....his people, chosen to work together for his good purpose of testifying to the gospel. <br />
He wants us to "hope in the Lord, renew our strength, and soar on wings as eagles, running and not growing weary, walking without being faint." (Isaiah 40:31) We are to be fearless, never quitting, keeping a clear vision of what lies ahead. We are to nurture our children and gently teach them to fly. We are not made to fear the storms, but rather to rise above the challenges of life and use them to soar higher! We are to fly high and free. We are to climb the mountains and allow him to restore us unto him to gain strength to carry on! <br />
As men and women, created by God and for God, we are to claim our foundation in Him. He wants us to live in such a way of being children of the King! Not orphans, but Children with a Father!! Secured in His love each day. Romans 8:15 "for you did not receive a spirit that makes you a slave again to fear, but you received the Spirit of sonship. And by him we cry 'Abba, Father." <br />
I am challenged to claim these attributes. Knowing that this insight is such a small thread in the tapestry He is creating!Wendyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02562980233947814045noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6626910427046220008.post-38806494501043213882013-09-01T17:10:00.000-04:002013-09-01T17:10:58.096-04:00Being a sign of God's FaithfulnessLast Sunday's sermon at my home church in Pennsylvania couldn't have come at a better time for me. It was short and simple but held a powerful message about life. There were two main points, the first one of living our lives in search of the signs of God's faithfulness, and the second of being the sign of God's faithfulness. He quoted several different people on the identification of a "Christian" being found through the answers of the poor. Who would the poor say served Christ? <br />
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I have pondered this through the week to follow as I also had conversations regarding serving the poor and caring for the orphan. I wondered how I have served the poor? How have I been a sign of God's faithfulness? What if I am not able to be or do things that I admire about other's faithfulness? I admire the ones who have taken the orphan into their home, the ones who feed the homeless, and shelter the needy. I have come to realize that not everyone is able to do each thing. Although I may wish I had the ability to do one thing, God may want me to do something else. <br />
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Who are the poor? Are they limited to the absence of physical possessions? Are they hungry, homeless, parent less? Yes, but are they more? Are they the poor of spirit as well? They may have riches beyond compare, yet lack the riches found in Christ. Maybe they have also the riches in Christ, but have found themselves in the darkest valleys, the driest deserts...the places that seem so far from God. As I ponder the concept of "poor", I realize that my mission field just got so much bigger. God has given each person a different talent or maybe several talents. He wants us to use them to minister to the different kinds of poor. <br />
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A talent. Now there is another word I have come to think about. I have always read the parable of the talents believing that the talents referred to wealth. The land owner gave each of the three servants different amounts. To one, he gave 10, another 5, and the other 1. When the ruler returned the servants with 10 and 5 had doubled theirs, the one with only 1 talent had hidden the talent out of fear. The first two were rewarded for making the most of what they were given, but the servant with one talent lost even the talent he had and it was given to the first. These talents, I am learning through my own life, are not just those of wealth. They are also talents of pain and suffering. I have been given this talent. It is up to me to either bury it, or to use it to benefit others. Maybe God is calling me to reach the poor of spirit. <br />
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It is so hard to believe that a year has passed. A year ago, I was asked to speak at a women's retreat in the Pocono mountains. I accepted the invitation knowing that God would provide for me as he always has. That retreat is now two weeks away, and God continues to impress the women who attend into my heart. I have been praying for them as I have trusted God to provide the words that he wants them to hear. I know that He will be faithful. I know this because of the many signs of His faithfulness that he has given to me. It is my prayer that God will now use me as a sign of his faithfulness to someone else. Wendyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02562980233947814045noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6626910427046220008.post-29070427059889645572013-08-26T14:24:00.001-04:002013-08-26T14:24:23.410-04:00Stained Tears<div align="center">
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I let the boy get his things and go. He doesn't need me to walk him in on the first day anymore. He is in seventh grade this year. He is twelve. One year and one month older </div>
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than his sister was the way she left. </div>
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He is taller than she, now. His muscles are stronger, shoulders broader.</div>
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He is brave, like his sister. And, handsome as well.</div>
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He is a boy. A button pusher. A fun giver. </div>
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His heart is loving, it is broken...and tender.</div>
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He's too big to kiss in public now, but lets me steal kisses at home. </div>
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He serves his maker.</div>
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He is my son.</div>
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The bigger of the littles, she is strength wrapped in a tiny package. </div>
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Holding her fears captive, she went to school today. </div>
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She is a third grade girl this year. She is eight. </div>
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Next year is forth grade. The last one her sister completed before heaven.</div>
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I wonder what strength a big sister at her side would be?</div>
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she looks like her sister. both sisters, really. </div>
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she looks like heaven to me. or maybe just a taste of it. </div>
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She has energy and drive. she will obtain her goals. </div>
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she knows what she wants </div>
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She has strength and inner beauty. She is so much older than she aught to be.</div>
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she knows truths that other little girls wonder about. </div>
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she is courage. </div>
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she is mine.</div>
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The smallest one. She went to kindergarten today. All day.</div>
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She is five now. </div>
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She speaks her mind of truths and of love. </div>
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She is kind, and loving. She is Grace.</div>
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God's Grace. His riches at Christ's expense. I can not deny this about God!</div>
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Every day that is spent with this child. </div>
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She is a busy one, filled with ideas and pours out her kisses and love.</div>
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my kitchen countertops will miss her through the day when I cook!</div>
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her heart resembles her biggest sister. </div>
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She is my baby. my joy. my last kindergartner.</div>
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she is Grace</div>
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She is the crown of my motherhood. </div>
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She is the joy of my heart. </div>
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Hers was my first day of kindergarten, and of third, but not of seventh grade. </div>
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Her last was of fourth. </div>
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I would have dropped her off today. She would have walked in with her brother,</div>
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her friend.</div>
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They always were quite the pair!</div>
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It would be our first year of high school. Ninth grade. Fifteen.</div>
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I can not imagine now.</div>
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Her skin would be dark from the sun of the summer. Her hair would be long and medium brown. Or maybe she would have chosen it short. Her legs long and lanky, I can just see them now.</div>
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We would have shopped for her shoes and her stuff that she needed to start. </div>
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I'm left to wonder what she would have picked. </div>
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She was beauty. She was strength, but also tender as little girls are. </div>
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She loved her Jesus. She loves him now. </div>
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She is radiant. Kind. loving. perfect in every way.</div>
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she is still mine.</div>
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My tears are stained as I walk away.</div>
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Each child is seated in the chairs and ready for the new year.</div>
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and, yet I feel so incomplete. </div>
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They are not all there. I'm missing one. As I always am.</div>
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it is a feeling I rarely can get used to. </div>
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Mommies are always counting. I always come up short.</div>
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I hold my tears in till I get to the car when they come flowing down my cheeks. It has been four years. And, so another school year marks the beginning of the fifth. </div>
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she is still eleven and eight days old. She never began fifth grade.</div>
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I am the mommy who left school today, and went to the grave.</div>
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It is a once foreign place, that I have come to know.</div>
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a quiet place. a horrid place. an empty place.</div>
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it is not mine.</div>
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Ashley, is mine. Heaven is mine. The pain, the tears....they are mine.</div>
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The new joy of life, the blessings in each day.....</div>
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The broken in my heart.</div>
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They are all mine.</div>
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I will soon pick them up. I will hear of their day. I am their mommy.</div>
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I am not the woman I used to be. </div>
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At times I miss her dearly. </div>
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I ask God to dress me with strength for this year. </div>
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He will.</div>
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Because He is mine. </div>
Wendyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02562980233947814045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6626910427046220008.post-64115322174059309262013-08-14T14:25:00.000-04:002013-08-14T14:25:29.170-04:00letting go of something<div align="center">
I am sitting here today with silence in my soul. </div>
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I desire something, yet I don't know what it is...Could it be that I need someone to listen to me?</div>
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Do I need to cry? I feel like I do, but I can't seem to get the tears out. </div>
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I cleaned the bathroom because it was filthy, but sat down now because I don't feel like doing anything else.</div>
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I want to do nothing, I think. </div>
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I hear the sounds of summer in my ear. The crescendo of the cicada's song,</div>
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I hear the wind making music as it gently tosses the wind chimes.</div>
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The breeze is cool today, but the sun it warm. It feels and smells like the end of summer.</div>
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The stalks of corn in the fields are beginning to brown from the bottom up. </div>
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It is tall corn. A good year for farmers. </div>
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My garden is getting tired. The cucumbers and tomatoes are sparse. </div>
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The bounty of the summer fills my soul.</div>
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I can hear my little girls playing outside. They are happy. </div>
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One big girl is missing. </div>
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I miss her today.....a whole lot. </div>
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I wonder what heaven is like today. Is it summer there too? Did she climb a tree?</div>
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Did she lay in the grass and read a book under the sky?</div>
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Did she run through the fields with her feet free of shoes? </div>
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Did she fill her day till it overflows? Did she kiss her Father? </div>
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I long for her. </div>
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Did she dig potatoes in heaven's garden like we are digging ours now? </div>
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Do the butterflies visit the flowers that stand taller than the rest? </div>
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The ones who's flower is too heavy to hold so they lean toward the ground?</div>
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I wonder. </div>
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Today I can feel the summer slipping away. </div>
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It is hard to let go of the summer. </div>
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I love it so.</div>
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and yet, I wonder how I love it so, when it hurts so bad.</div>
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the boy said I can't control the coming and going of summer. </div>
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he is right, I think.</div>
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That is true with more things than just summer. </div>
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it's so hard to let go. </div>
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Summer came, and it will go, and soon fall will come....</div>
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and I have nothing to do with that. </div>
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I can only just capture them in their moments of splendor and bounty. </div>
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And, then they too will be gone. </div>
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Heaven will not be like this, I think. </div>
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No! It will not. I will enjoy all of it all of the time. </div>
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My tears are flowing now. I suppose this key pad and letters on a screen were what I needed. </div>
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Wendyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02562980233947814045noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6626910427046220008.post-20950551323370909522013-03-29T12:13:00.001-04:002013-03-29T12:13:23.691-04:00His Hell day.As I cleaned my house this morning, I began to dust over the things that I dust each week. Every time I do this, I feel sickened as I continue to dust over those same photos of my daughter. The photos that are frozen in time. They will never be replaced with new ones of her as she grows older. The darkness of this reality began to sink it's way deep into my soul. It felt like a Saturday today, until I realized that it was only Friday. Friday. Good Friday. He died today. Today is the day that God's son died. My Ashley died on a Friday too. I wondered what God wanted me to know about this day. As a parent of a child who died, I desired to see this day as such...the day God's son died. I wanted to respect this sacred day for God. <br />
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The first thing I realized that was different about the day that Ashley died and the day that Jesus died was that on that day, God gave his son willingly. God knew he was going to die, actually, he sent Jesus here for that reason. He created his son to die. Jesus, being God in human form knew this too. Yet in his human likeness, he desired to escape the snare of death. He agonized over the very thing he came to do, but because he was God and a man, he could indeed choose to die for the sake of the ones he came to save. I could not do this. I could not have chosen to give my child. I would choose to keep her. I wouldn't send my child willingly to die for someone else. But, God knew how much he loved me, how much he loved his children. He knew how imperfect we were.....He knew that our sins could not go unpunished, so he took them. He covered himself in my sin. His perfect, flawless self became all that I am. God looked at his son dressed in my sin and cast the fullness of His wrath on him. He scorned him and turned his face from him. Jesus died alone. I loved my little girl to the very end. Never once did I have to turn my face in disgust. She died that day, and I was left in the agony of earthly pain and suffering, yet rested in the assurance that Ashley did not die alone. She was met by God, and he carried her home. <br />
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Each year that Ashley's day comes around marking the passage of yet another year, we have begun to call that day her "Heaven day." The sound of "death day" was so horrifying, I couldn't bear to call it that. Pondering this day as God's son's "heaven day" as I know it, I realized that today all those many years ago, Jesus didn't just die alone in shame. He was ushered into Hell. This was the day Jesus went to hell. How can such a perfect man go there? He didn't deserve it. I did. I deserve hell. But, he LOVED me.....as I loved my Ashley. I still love her and my only comfort in her death is knowing the life with her that awaits. <br />
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I am selfish. But, God in his selflessness....placed my sin upon his perfect son, because he loved me, then went to hell in my place. He did this so that I wouldn't have to suffer for my sin, but also because He couldn't bear to be apart from me forever. He paid for my sin. It didn't stop there. He wanted to give me more. He wanted me to have all that was his. So, on the third day....he conquered death and hell. He became alive again erasing my sins, dressed me in His righteousness and presented me with the gift of heaven. It is because of him that I will see Ashley again. It is because of him that I will never die alone. <br />
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This day, was the day that Jesus went to Hell. In MY place.Wendyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02562980233947814045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6626910427046220008.post-53829812433712098532013-03-25T10:13:00.000-04:002013-03-25T10:13:04.951-04:00When I Don't Feel Like Being MommyIt's the week before Easter. Today we have finally gotten snow after a long winter of no snow. After I have planted pansies, hung sheets on the wash line two days ago, and have put away all of the winter snow clothes, it snows. The kids have no school today. It's a snow day. They are thrilled and are currently playing together outside. There are mounds of snow, little foot prints, shovels and sleds everywhere outside. <br />
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I am glad they can't see me inside crying. Why does today hurt so bad? Why does a snow in March hurt so bad? Maybe it's just the day....maybe it's just one of those days that come and go. Maybe it has nothing to do with the snow. I want to see four kids outside today. I want to make four cups of hot chocolate. I want to have the energy I used to have....to don my hat and boots and go play with my kids in the snow. For some reason, today, I just can't do it. My tears would turn to snow today. How can it be that four years later, it can hurt like it was yesterday? <br />
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Do my kids know that they aren't getting what they used to get from Mommy? Do they know that I used to be fun and full of child-like energy? Do they know that I desperately wish I could be who I used to be? Will they ever understand the windows and walls that trap me inside? I pray not. I do not wish for them to ever understand because the only way they can is by losing a child themselves, and that, I do not wish for anyone! <br />
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I guess I need to find things to be thankful for today. Things like a day off from school, and that my kids are actually playing nicely together. (something that doesn't happen all that often anymore) I should be thankful that they got a snow day this year, even if it came late. I am thankful for my tears, even though they place me in a room of windows. I am thankful that my tears have not gone....they are proof that my child will always hold such a place in my soul that will never be taken by time. <br />
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As Grace pops inside to let mommy know she is going sledding, I only stand amazed by her name, which continues to remind me of "God's Riches At Christ's Expense" Grace is what keeps me going each day. God's grace, as represented by my little bundle of riches dressed in snow pants today, reminding me she is there, and urging me onward. Pushing my next foot forward. Despite the things I'm thankful for today, I'm still stuck in my room of windows.....I suppose that's where I'm supposed to be today. Tears are my snow day. Wendyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02562980233947814045noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6626910427046220008.post-4092236566033400062012-11-28T19:54:00.001-05:002012-11-28T20:06:33.029-05:00How do I help Them????This will be my 4th Christmas without Ashley. The first year, we were alone...in the sense that we were the most recent ones (in our circle) to begin the walk on this road called grief and loss. It was a hard year, that first year of learning how to live again, learning how to go forward empty. <br />
The more time has passed, the farther down the road we travel, others have begun to follow. Many of them are dear to me. Parents have buried their children, Men have buried their wives. Those of us who walk the same road, we understand, we remember. For the ones who have lost, time stopped. For those around them, life continues. For the ones who hurt, confusion sets in as they watch time pass in front of them, but feel like they stand still. The ones who hurt....they don't know what they need. The ones who watch, wonder how they can help. <br />
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My cousin recently lost his young and vibrant wife and mother of three. In an instant life changed forever. She entered glory and left behind those who must struggle to survive. Desperately wishing I could change the past or even fast forward into the future, even I wondered how I could help him. Was I crazy? I have been there myself. I tried to remember what helped us. Being lost in each moment, I listened to all the offers of help...."just call", they said. My memory bank was full, how would I know who to call? "What do you need?" "How can I help?" I don't know what I need, I don't know how you could help me. I realized that I didn't even know what I needed. Some days I would pray ( and still do ). I would tell God...."I don't know what I need today, but I don't feel right, I know I need something. Could you please supply what I need, since I don't know what to ask for?" Some days I was in dire need of help but was too "paralyzed" in my pain to be able to seek help. I needed God to seek it for me...and others to listen to His small voice prompting them.<br />
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There were days that I never even prayed, but God sent someone or something at just the right time. I didn't always willingly accept it, but soon realized that it was indeed what I needed. If God knows what I need, and he supplies all of my needs, then He will let others know how to help me. God wants to use me and my needs to bring others to HIM! I encouraged others to pray. Not only to pray, but to really listen. Hear what God wants from you, and DO it. Don't just do it, but do it for God! Don't expect anything in return....not even affirmation, or thanks, or a response of any kind. It is about God! NOT you! I encouraged my cousin to tell others to pray and listen and respond. <br />
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As I read a blog today of a friend who started on this ugly road of grief only in July, she so beautifully and perfectly painted in words the very thing I am writing about. I desire to share her words, so as to help others to understand the hurting, to give them grace, forgiveness, and help, the kind of help that comes from being the hands and feet of our father. These are her words...slightly altered to protect her privacy...<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">right
now...</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">we don't have
much to give to each other...</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">let alone to
anyone else...</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So we
apologize for not meeting your expectations</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">and for
holding too high expectations</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">for
you...</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> We can't see
past our emotions, </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">We can't see
past our great loss</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">We are
blind</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">groping the
walls</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">seeking
light</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">life</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">the way
out </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">reaching and
begging and pleading</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">for
help</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">for
salvation....</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">from this
lot.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">But God
thought us worthy of this lot</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">so we bear
it.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">mind
you...</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">we may not
bear it silently as Jesus did....</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">we may bear
it....</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br /></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">completely
recklessly</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">and
inappropriately </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">while
screaming,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">laughing,
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">crying,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">while
silent,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">pious or
angry, </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">thrashing
against it all....</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">or numbing
our way through it all</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">but we will
bear it</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">we have no
choice</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">God is
faithful to do what He says He will do</span>regardless of how we feel<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">or how we act
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">or what we
believe </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">or what we
doubt....</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">but it sure
doesn't help</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">when we don't
see</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">or
feel</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">or
hear....</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">God.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">It feels very
very lonely</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">It is very
very lonely </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">It feels like
rejection</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">like
punishment</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">like the
wilderness...</span></div>
</span> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Sometimes we
get a glimmer of God,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">when He sends
someone...</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">when He calls
out to them...</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">and they
answer Him with a </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Yes, Lord- I
am willing."</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">He has called
out to many</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">but few
answer His call</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">few answer
THIS CALL-</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">He sends that
still small voice to their heart and says...</span> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
</span> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><strong><em>I want you to call them and just listen-</em></strong>
</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">they
may never pick up the phone.</span></i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">Stop by
their house-</span></i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">they
may close the door.</span></i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">Send a
note-</span></i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">you may
never get a response.</span></i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">Call
them again-</span></i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">pat
them on the back</span></i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">hug
them</span></i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">even if
they resist hugging you back</span></i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">don't
take it personal</span></i></b>
<b><i></i></b><br />
<b><i></i></b></div>
<b><i><div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">this is
not about you</span></i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">this is
about Me</span></i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">text
them a song, or a poem</span></i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">send
them a picture</span></i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">write
them a memory</span></i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">let
them know you miss her too </span></i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">talk
about her</span></i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">even if
it makes you uncomfortable</span></i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">pray
for them...</span></i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">read
scripture over their family</span></i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">really
pray for them </span></i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">Stop
telling them what to do</span></i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">just
listen</span></i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">I am
calling you </span></i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">They
need you</span></i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">Are you
willing?</span></i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">They
have NOTHING to give you back. </span></i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">They
will drain you, </span></i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">....but
I want you to help them....</span></i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">are you
willing? </span></i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">You
will never get praise</span></i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">or
rewards on this side of Heaven</span></i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">No one
will know you are helping them but Me."</span></i></b></div>
</span></i>
</b><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
</div>
</i><div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
</div>
</b><div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
Being where I am today, having walked this road for some time, knowing I still feel this way at times, many times, I am also able to look back and remember. I am able to encourage others to remember these people who are not too far away from all the hustle and bustle. They sit silently in the shadows. They are hurting. Take time to pray for them. Ask God how you can help them. Listen to him. Answer his prompting, no matter what earthly response you get. Tell no one of your deeds....give God the glory, and allow yourself to be blessed in serving Christ. </div>
</div>
</div>
</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</span><div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></span></blockquote>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
</div>
</div>
</blockquote>
</span></span></span><br />Wendyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02562980233947814045noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6626910427046220008.post-41004863907575542842012-07-04T17:20:00.000-04:002012-07-04T17:21:12.734-04:00Standing on PromisesIt is July again. Three years later. I can hardly believe it has been three years, it seems like yesterday and forever at the same time. I remember sitting on my porch in the days to follow Ashley's death. My friend wished she could pick me up and move me three years into the future. She said that it would get better. She knew because she had been where I was 16 years before me. I listened, but couldn't possibly imagine making it through three years. I could barely survive each moment. In my heart I truly believed that I would not have to make it for three years. God would come before then. Surely this must be the end. My world had fallen to pieces. My world had ended. I waited every day for Him to come. Each morning I begged of him that today would be the day. Every night I begged him to let me wake up in His presence. My bags were packed. I was ready to go. I had no attachment to this world. Nothing meant anything to me anymore. <br />
<br />
No one could promise me anything. I wanted people to tell me how to make it. I wanted instructions. I wanted assurance. No one would promise me anything. I tried to make promises to myself. I became angry by the promises people make to others. Promises to pray for them, when they wouldn't really pray. Promises to stand by someone no matter what, and then forget with time, or give up when the going got tough. I did not promise to pray for anyone, knowing that I would fail them. I couldn't sing songs because I couldn't say the words and not mean them. <br />
<br />
Last night, as I put my little girls to bed, Grace asked me once again, "when will God come to take us home?" I tell her I don't know when, but I do know that He WILL come. He promised us that he will come. I know that God always keeps his promises. He can not break a promise. As I lay there I thought about the other ways I answer my kids difficult questions and fears. I usually answer them with promises, God's promises. "He will never leave you, nor forsake you." "He will be with you wherever you go." "He will provide all of your needs according to His riches in glory." "He loves you." "He will never let you go." A song began to sing itself to me. "Standing, standing, standing on the promises of God, my savior, Standing, standing, I'm standing on the promises of God!" <br />
<br />
I have been giving my children, and so also myself, the only promises that I know will be true. The old hymn reminded me that I am standing on His promises each day. But what if I am not sure if they are true? What about my doubt, my unbelief? I tell my children these things, these promises, but what if they are not true? They believe without a doubt. What about my unbelief? The second verse says "Standing on the promises that cannot fail, when the howling storms of doubt and fear assail, by the living Word of God I shall prevail, standing on the promises of God." Even in my doubt and unbelief, His word is Living and Will prevail! It will not fail. I will choose to stand, even blindly, on His word, His promises, because I have nothing else to stand on! I am teaching my children to be faithful to God's word, faith, void of myself, but walking forward blindly.<br />
<br />
As I read more on the old hymn, Kenneth Osbeck in his book "Amazing Grace" writes: "Bible scholars have pointed out that the phrase "fear not" appears in the Bible 365 times - a reassuring promise for each day of the year. A daily dependence upon the divine promises is the only real remedy for our human fears." (Amazing Grace, pg. 85) Growing up in a church that filled each Sunday service with the hymns of old, I often wondered why we had to sing these old songs. I loved to sing them, and I knew them well. As I page through my hymnals I am amazed by how many of them I know, not only the words, but the music in several different harmonies. In my deepest, darkest moments the words and music of those old hymns fill my soul. They force me to sing, to remember the words that have been impressed upon my heart. Those words, all these years later, are now teaching me about my faith. They are reminding me of the truths found in the gospel. They have often been my only comfort, like a gentle rocking for my soul. <br />
<br />
I am standing on the promises of God, my savior today. Every day. I will continue to tell my children of the promises I know, and trust that God will impress them on their hearts forever.<br />
<br />
"Standing on the Promises" by R. Kelso Carter<br />
<br />
1. Standing on the promises of Christ my King, thru eternal ages let His praises ring; glory in the highest I will shout and sing, standing on the promises of God. <br />
<br />
2. Standing on the promises that cannot fail, when the howling storms of doubt and fear assail, by the living Word of God I shall prevail, standing on the promises of God.<br />
<br />
3.Standing on the promises of Christ the Lord, bound to Him eternally by love's strong cord, overcoming daily with the Spirit's sword, standing on the promises of God. <br />
<br />
4. Standing on the promises I now can see perfect, present cleansing in the blood for me; standing in the liberty where Christ makes free, standing on the promises of God,<br />
<br />
5. Standing on the promises I cannot fall, list'ning ev'ry moment to the Spirit's call, resting in my Savior as my all in all, standing of the promises of God.Wendyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02562980233947814045noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6626910427046220008.post-23528637879520402592012-05-13T09:15:00.000-04:002012-05-13T09:16:03.702-04:00When Mommy Says a PrayerEvery night at bedtime my children wait until I pray. The prayer is often the same old prayer, but they can't sleep without it. They want me to pray for angels to keep them safe at night, to watch over them each day. I want them to hear me ask God for them to always love Him, to always serve Him, and to love Him and others the way He loves us. I thank Him for the strength He gave us for that day, and ask Him for more of it tomorrow. I am amazed by the comfort it brings my children by my simple little prayers. <br />
<br />
Because it is Mother's Day, I want to reflect on my Mother, rather than the fact that I am a mother. I still go to my mommy when I need a prayer. I always know she will pray. Prayer is often the only thing I ask for these days. No one can give me what I need, but God. No one can fix my pain each day. No one can give me strength. No one can comfort me. God can. Sometimes I can't pray, but Mom can. What a blessing it is to have a Mom that prays!<br />
<br />
When Ashley died, I crumbled. My mom was there but couldn't pick up the pieces. She wasn't enough. As my mother and my friend, she decided to equip herself with the "tools" she needed to help me best. She wanted to know what my life would be like, she wanted to catch a glimpse of the journey I was about to embark on. My mother began to read. She read books about heaven, she read books about one mother's journey through loosing her son. She read about the darkness. Much of it was for her own comfort and desires, but it was because of me that she read. She was preparing herself to meet my needs, she was searching for ways to pray. I am so proud of my mom for caring so much. When she felt helpless, she did not quit. She equipped herself, and went to God, asking Him what I needed.<br />
<br />
When I tell her nothing, she prays. I believe she asks God what to pray for. There have been days that I have called in tears. I have been desperate for strength, not knowing how I would face another second. I would ask for her to pray. It is rare that we pray aloud together. Praying is so often done in private. It is something that is not seen, and rarely is recognized in public. We can't take credit for our prayers. They are between us and God. We can rejoice in answered prayer. We can weep when our prayers seem to go unanswered. <br />
<br />
<br />
It was my last mother's Day. (that was three years ago) Because our business is busiest over Mother's day, I don't usually plan for much! I wanted to do something special for my mom. One thing my mom always wishes for is to have her children with her in church on a Sunday morning. She craves this especially because only one of her children lives close by. Two of us live far away, along with all of her grandchildren. I knew it would be a treat for us to come to church. Since my husband had to care for flowers in our greenhouse that day, I packed up my four kids, drove 2 hours north and showed up on the pew benches of my parents church. I can still remember my mother's face when she realized it was us sitting there. We had a lovely day that day. <br />
<br />
<br />
Mom, I wish I could give you that surprise today. I do not have the strength. I am so very tired. My heart is so broken. I wanted to do something special for you today. Something that will make you shine. I want to rise and call you blessed. Remember when I was little? Do you remember when I entered that competition in the local newspaper? I had to write a small paragraph about my mom. I wrote about you, and me. That little paragraph won the prize and was published in the paper for Mother's Day. So, today I decided to write this blog about you. You are a wonderful mom. You have been and continue to be my best friend. You give all you can give, and when there is nothing to give but prayer, you just Pray. Thank you, Mom, for saying a prayer for me. I love you! I always will.<strike></strike><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgovIh8f0mJSJnchxEB2GmmFKqGRi7UU8-x9jpmZw5bmu9rYRYU457wAnT-Eg-Swl3wvLDBamFPlkbJ98kgw38N5EORz-aQoeGap1dUBU9RFAbOWI9D7qg9-MIlgUdWMpL7XYBPL56qmluq/s1600/130.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgovIh8f0mJSJnchxEB2GmmFKqGRi7UU8-x9jpmZw5bmu9rYRYU457wAnT-Eg-Swl3wvLDBamFPlkbJ98kgw38N5EORz-aQoeGap1dUBU9RFAbOWI9D7qg9-MIlgUdWMpL7XYBPL56qmluq/s320/130.JPG" /></a></div><br />Wendyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02562980233947814045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6626910427046220008.post-46093515381843443162012-02-12T12:55:00.005-05:002012-02-14T17:33:28.196-05:00My Father's LoveValentine's Day is two days away. I remember the way Ashley prepared for this day, carefully designing cards for the one's she loved, wording and rewording until she said it just right, cutting and pasting, trying her hardest to capture the vastness of her love and squish it onto a single card. She paged through magazines and browsed the card racks at stores trying to get ideas for the perfect cards. She would often beg me to let her buy a card from the store (she thought they did a better job), but mommy never relented, a card must be homemade, those were the best a little girl could give. As the day approached, Ashley was disgusted that this day did not deserve "a day off" status, like other holidays! Valentine's Day was a favorite for Ashley. It was the designated day for proclaiming our love for others! For Ashley, every day was valentine's day. She told me every day how much she loved me...that she loved me sooooo much, that in all the world, she would only pick me to be her mommy. Love. Ashley understood Love. She didn't just say how much she loved others, she showed them, every day!<br /><br />Every year, I also spend an afternoon cutting and pasting as I make valentines for my children. I reflect on my love for each one of them as I make their cards. Although I begin with blank paper, I am amazed that I end up with a unique card designed with love for each one. Today, as I cut and paste, I can't help but to reflect on the lesson of love that my heavenly father has given given me a glimpse of this year. <br /><br />Dear Ashley, <br /><br />You taught me so much about love. Before you, I knew what it was like to be loved by my parents. I knew what it was like to love and be loved by my friends, my siblings, my family. I knew the love of my husband, and I knew that God loved me. When you came into my life, I began to know the love that pours from my soul, from the depths of my heart into the tiny life of my child, my flesh and blood. I never knew a love like this until you were born. I wondered how it was possible to love someone so much! What is more, you loved me back even more than I could fathom. Even though I was filled with flaws, you loved me anyway. I thanked God that He would give you a love for me despite who I am. <br /><br />I loved you more and more. How could it be possible that the love I had for you the day you were born could possibly grow bigger, deeper, wider? As I loved you, I was showing you God's love. You loved God. As you grew, you loved Him more. The more you knew Him, the more you loved him. You would always tell me how much you loved me, and then you would say "but I love God the most." You pointed me back to God. <br /><br />My heart and soul bleed as I ache for you. I so desperately want to hear those words again. I want to tell you how much I love you. You are gone. But, God remains. I can't always feel him. In the darkness I have wondered about His love. I could not understand. When I held you, in my joy, I knew God's love. How then, do I know God's love in my pain? God can't reveal to me the fullness of his love at first glance. His love grows bigger and deeper and wider as I walk with him. <br /><br />A few weeks ago my heart was torn as I faced a very large mountain. God gave me the strength I needed to make it that day. Then, when I was fully poured out, I saw that I had only climbed the foothill to the mountain. For the first time in over two years, one of your siblings began to wail for you. The screams of death resounded from this house once again. I had no energy to face this mountain that day. There was no acceptance of my comfort. As I was forced to sit still and helplessly wait, I began to understand a glimpse of another aspect of love. God's love, in pain. My heart bled in agony as I listened. I longed to fix the pain. I wanted to take it far away, to wrap my child in my arms and remove the storm. But, as the storm violently surrounded me, patience filled my soul. I waited. I knew that my child needed to walk through it. I knew that my child would be stronger on the other side. I knew that although it was horrible, my child needed this in order to heal. I had to wait. I would walk my child through. <br /><br />My eyes began to open and my heart wept as I felt my Father's love for me. I knew that his heart hurts when I am in pain. I knew that he patiently waits for me to walk through the storms, because he knows where I will be when I come through them. He knows that I need to face them, to endure them. He knows that each storm I walk through is making me stronger. He loves me in my pain. He understands.<br /><br />God chose to show us love through the simple relationship between a parent and a child. I am also his child. He loves me the way He loves his son. God has given me the chance to understand the love a mother has for her children as I hold them in my arms. He as given me the chance to love my child through the searing pain of death, and he is showing me a glimpse of what it is like to love my child in pain and suffering. <br /><br />God's love is deep, and wide, and high....and I will not see it fully until I am with him. Although I knew that God does not delight in our suffering, it was not until I loved my child through their suffering that I could even remotely understand that He is love even in the storm.<br /><br />Happy Valentine's Day, my sweet girl!<br />love, <br />MommyWendyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02562980233947814045noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6626910427046220008.post-29023828070626631072011-12-17T08:07:00.004-05:002011-12-17T11:53:09.458-05:00Christmastime or Christmas<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjweY82NyG681giBJgdekYETYcwx_0-4BCOuKBu1issd1pplSsOSJgFNlhC8h0Po6i5z2x6bTLNfX9E4Q5-3R501zNSthk8RYCIeOcM8GRhxUOV5EvWsaIF5VGa6Nmr_h3rNeH7e7AqJyM_/s1600/021.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjweY82NyG681giBJgdekYETYcwx_0-4BCOuKBu1issd1pplSsOSJgFNlhC8h0Po6i5z2x6bTLNfX9E4Q5-3R501zNSthk8RYCIeOcM8GRhxUOV5EvWsaIF5VGa6Nmr_h3rNeH7e7AqJyM_/s320/021.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5687140045734756834" /></a><br />I watched a bit of the morning show the other other day. I saw people in NYC all jolly and festive for Christmas. I saw hats, gloves, and scarves, Christmas trees, wreaths, and lots of people everywhere. Christmastime is about shopping, singing, being all warm and cozy, gathering with family, sitting by the fire, decorating, buying all the things that will help you be Christmasy, Right? <br /><br />When I look at all of these things, I feel sad. I don't feel merry. I don't feel bright. I don't want to be jolly. I live every day with one of my precious children missing. The thought of fuzzy family gatherings makes me sick. Decorating? You mean I have to decorate this year? Do I have to stare at all of those decorations from over the years? Do I have to watch my children decorate a tree and hang up their sister's ornaments for her again this year? It doesn't feel merry and bright! <br /><br />And, then there was the shopping. I didn't want to shop this year! What is the point? Everyone has more than they possibly need, yet everyone wants to open presents for Christmas. They ponder what they could ask for. They actually have to think about what to ask for! Mom's have to sift through their children's toys looking to get rid of a few so that they can get some more. I hear over and over, "I don't know what to get them, so I'm giving them gift cards." Is there any thought fullness anymore? What's the point of all of this?! Why does Christmastime feel so pointless? <br /><br />I sure was thankful for a sweet little girl of mine who decided to teach me a few lessons this season. Just two weeks into December she had enough of all this "Christmas stuff" "everyone has a Christmas tree, but us!" I realized that I had to do this for my little girl! She needed me to decorate for Christmas. It was worth preparing for. With the tree up and the manger arranged, she asked to hear some music. I hesitantly turned it on. I watched and listened with a heavy heart as she danced and sang. She was soaking it in as if she had never heard those songs before. I realized that she hasn't heard them in three years and three years ago, she was only three. This was her first time. My heart continued to break as I realized that I have failed to give my children Christmas. <br /><br />Now, it was just a little over a week until Christmas Day. I had shopping to do. The morning I set out to shop, this precious little messenger asked me a question. "Mommy, do you know why we give presents at Christmas?" I knew, but I wanted her to tell me. "It's because God gave us a gift at Christmas. He gave us Jesus, Mommy." Jesus was a gift of love! He was a gift of ultimate sacrifice. God gave us Jesus so that he could show us love, love to the point of death! As I drug myself through the stores, her words echoed in my mind. God gave me Jesus. Jesus. He is mine. He is the reason for Christmas. He IS Christmas!Giving my children gifts is o.k. I am showing them love. I am celebrating God's love. <br /><br />I keep coming back to Jesus. He is Christmas. The picture that the world wants to create in my mind, that picture of Christmastime, takes my focus off of Jesus. I know that if I focus on that which seems perfect, but can never satisfy me, then I can't do Christmas. I must focus on Jesus...then, the rest of all that is broken, will fade. I cried as I imagined God giving the gift of a son, whom he knew would bear the sin of many, carry it to the cross, bleed and die as he would become sin. God knew He would turn His face to his own son, and this, this for me, for us. This is love. This is Christmas.Wendyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02562980233947814045noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6626910427046220008.post-31847452555791594682011-11-01T09:31:00.003-04:002011-11-01T10:36:05.978-04:00Carry Me to JesusOn Sunday my Pastor preached about the paralyzed man who's friends carried him, lifted him onto a roof, dug a hole in that roof, and lowered him through it, placing him at the feet of Jesus. This image has been present with me for the past two years. It wasn't long after Ashley died that I began to wonder why I couldn't pray. Why is everyone else so strong in prayer for me, and I couldn't even whisper a prayer? I didn't even want to. Shouldn't the depth of my pain push me to Jesus? I have always prayed the most when I was weak. A new friend, one that I met only because she lost her daughter only months before I lost mine, reminded me that we are too paralyzed to "get to Jesus." She reminded me of this story. She told me to let my friends carry me to Jesus. They are strong enough to pray. This does not mean that my faith is weak. When I can not stand, I must be carried. I was being challenged to strengthen another part of my faith, by laying down my pride.<br /><br />This was hard for me to do. I am a very self sufficient person. I don't want to let go and allow others to carry me. In the past, I have had enough strength to bear some of my own weight. This time, I was rendered helpless. I wanted others to carry me, but I also wanted to do it myself. I had to learn that my faith was not based upon MY actions. Faith is also letting go completely, and believing that the prayers of others is enough. I began to rest. I let go of being hard on myself for not praying. I realized that now was the time to encourage others to pray. I needed to testify to them that their prayers work. They needed me to depend on them. This is God's way of making the body of Christ stronger. The picture of the friends that carried the paralyzed man is a perfect example of the way we are to live. Sometimes we are supposed to gain strength by acting. We need to carry others. Sometimes, we need to be forced off of our feet, carried by others, and gain strength in being able to testify to the healing power found in weakness. This picture is beautiful to me. <br /><br />I began to see how God was working. I listened to friends tell me when they were burdened for me, and that they prayed. Often times, when they were praying, I was at rest. One of my close friends told me one day that she was hurting for me as she folded her laundry. She wondered how it felt for me to have one less pile of laundry to place into my basket. God allowed her to feel my pain and pray for me through a daily life function. It turns out, that I was indeed struggling with that exact pain at that time. She did not know that. I did. I told her. I gave her encouragement to keep praying. There were times when I would get a card or email or phone call out of the blue. It would say, "I don't know why, but I felt like I had to call you." I know why! That was God, asking you to pray for me. I needed your thoughts and your prayers. I couldn't pray, but you could. I remember getting a phone call when I was angry. I had been horrible to people that I love. My phone rang. It was a friend. I suspiciously asked her who told her to call me! I was about to be really mad at the ones I love...but, then, I realized that it was God who asked her to call me. She had no idea what was going on.<br /><br />It goes the other way too. When we think of something we ought to do for someone, but don't do it. We are too busy, or we convince ourselves that someone else is going to do it, or that maybe we would cause more pain or discomfort by doing that, whatever the reason, we don't listen. I can testify to friends who were willing to share with me that they were so burdened for me, but didn't call...only to find out that I had been in pain and desperately needed what they were being asked to give. I urge my friends, LISTEN TO JESUS CALLING YOU! There is always a reason why we think of others! <br /><br />There is another aspect of the picture of the paralyzed man being lowered before Jesus. There was a crowd of people watching. Some people in the crowd believed, but others were skeptical. I can imagine that some of the ones who watched these friends carry their paralyzed friend to Jesus were moved by being able to watch faith in action. This doesn't mean that we are to "brag" about what we do for others (that would bring glory to ourselves), nor does it mean that we should hide all that we do in faith. God wants us to testify to His goodness though faithfully obeying His call to carry a friend, and to encourage others by testifying to the healing power of faithful prayer. We can not hide what God can do. I count it blessing to testify to God's Grace. When I put the praise on Him, then my eyes are fixed on Jesus. <br /><br />I love this picture. No one ever wants to be the one who must be carried, yet each one must take their turn. We gain strength all around when we are the faithful carriers, the one being carried, or the ones who are watching. This is such a beautiful example of the body of Christ in action. Even now, as I rotate through these roles, I continue to feel the places where others carry me. God continues to burden others to pray for me, or to write, or call....or let me know that I am not forgotten. The simple blessings in our lives can be used as constant reminders of the brokenness in the lives of others. It is not a means to pity, but to pray for them, and to give thanks to God for His blessing in our lives.Wendyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02562980233947814045noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6626910427046220008.post-24323323121775403152011-10-26T12:15:00.010-04:002011-10-26T13:26:00.275-04:00Excerpt from my beach going journal...I walked miles upon miles along the beach. I photographed shells and critters that the storms left on the sand. I didn't need to pick up all of the shells. I threw back the "live" ones. Once again, I found myself seeking the treasures in the sand that I desired for myself. I even ask them of God. I feel impatient when I ask and don't receive. When I relax, enjoying my walk without expectation, God surprises me. I stopped to admire something through a photo. I spotted a shell that I had never found before. I placed it in my bag. It wasn't the one I had in mind. I quickly hoped on finding the shells I had set out to find. I would keep this one, but I had my heart set on the other ones. <br /><br />It took a much longer walk down the beach and a few conversations with strangers along the way, for me to realize the value of the treasure that I held. The shell that I had found, the one that I carelessly placed in my bag, was the shell that others desired to find. I wonder why I can't just accept what is given rather than expect what I want!<br /><br />Later on a woman whom I had spoken with earlier brought a large conch shell to show me. It was vacant and pretty. She was excited to hold such a perfect treasure. She described it as she showed me. She wanted to share it with me! How often I have found treasures, beautiful, rare treasures - and I have quickly hidden them, hoping no one would notice. I am greedy. God wants me to share my treasures, and to rejoice with others over theirs. What does this reveal about my heart? Do I keep it for myself because I would I would be jealous of something they had, that I wanted? Am I greedy,selfish and envious?<br /><br />How can it be that hundreds of people walk the same beach over, yet each one finds different treasures? How is it that what I see as a treasure differs than someone Else's? Why do I need to find my treasure right now?? Isn't it more realistic that I may find them years from now? And, that after years and years of waiting for the ocean to uncover that special gift, the reward would be much greater? Not in the gift itself, but rather in the long awaiting patience of the receiver? <br /><br />I pray that God would help me to be patient and thankful for what He has chosen for me now. Maybe He is waiting to give me His treasures until He knows how I will handle them. Will I see them for the beauty they are? Will I understand the worth of what I hold? Will I admire their beauty? will I desire nothing more than that treasure at that very moment? Will I share it? Will I allow others to be blessed?<br /><br />What is more about the woman who showed me her shell treasure...She hadn't found it! Someone else found it, gave it to her, and she accepted it as if it were her own! My pride has only allowed me to accept the treasures that I find myself. If I accepted on from another, it wouldn't really be mine. I am proud. <br /><br />I keep asking God to teach me more about His Grace. Today I am seeing sin. This is the biggest picture of God's grace. The bigger I see my sin, the bigger I see God's grace. "Lord, keep showing me my sin so that I see the shadow of your Grace."Wendyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02562980233947814045noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6626910427046220008.post-3670448502522997162011-08-27T09:24:00.006-04:002011-08-27T10:24:43.882-04:00Ashley's Garden
<br />When faced with the question "how will we mark our daughter's life?" we wondered what we would do. We considered giving a scholarship to her school in Ashley's memory. It was a good idea, but would only leave and impact on one person each year. Knowing Ashley, one person was not enough! She left an impression on every person she met. Not knowing what else to do, we began with a tree. We asked the school if we could plant a tree with a plaque in Ashley's memory at the school. We also wondered if maybe a bench would be appropriate. We wanted Ashley's friends to have a place to go to and remember her. We were amazed when we were granted permission to do what we wanted in a much larger space than we imagined. The tree soon turned into many trees, a flower garden, and a patio with benches! Ashley always dreamed big...and so did we!
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<br />The garden was designed and we broke ground over the summer. It wasn't long before it took shape! The raised flower bed would be completed last, as we invited Ashley's classmates and teachers from her years at Red Lion to leave a lasting mark in her garden. What a touching day it was for us. We worked hard, pouring concrete and all, but also enjoyed watching as everyone gathered together in Ashley's garden. We enjoyed talking to Ashley's friends and their families. We shared memories together. Not only did Ashley touch the lives of these people, but they touched her life! Each one of them was important to her. She loved school. She loved her friends. She loved her teachers! Ashley left impressions in each of their lives, and now they were marking theirs!
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<br />So many things about the garden are special to me. Leaving hand prints has been a tradition in our family. Since we started our greenhouse business here in Maryland, we would have our children leave their hand prints in the concrete as we poured it. There are several places around our home and farm where Ashley's prints are found.
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQj6T1rUoF_I3f5vBlJlgamNTk-E7D9YBwU1YNABAG0KWNArp0-J1XW2YXwtyIv-w12_VFzaLcqoyPmSefHffWlYWY8oUHJCVvdh-2y1DEfNfM0Hbo3RR5UjoOw3XJHdN9BD5Ycem6CfpC/s1600/010.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQj6T1rUoF_I3f5vBlJlgamNTk-E7D9YBwU1YNABAG0KWNArp0-J1XW2YXwtyIv-w12_VFzaLcqoyPmSefHffWlYWY8oUHJCVvdh-2y1DEfNfM0Hbo3RR5UjoOw3XJHdN9BD5Ycem6CfpC/s320/010.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645533420646053506" /></a> It only made sense to include hand prints into the garden!
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<br />Ashley often dreamed of having her own "secret" garden. One year, she even took the liberty to build her own garden behind our goat barn. She carried rocks back there, stacked them up, filled the garden with dirt, and carefully chose her favorite plants from the greenhouse to plant in her garden. She proudly showed it to each of us! We desired a flower bed, that would be carefully planted with her daddy's flowers each season. What a treasure it was for her daddy and her brother to visit the garden last week and to plant the first flowers in her garden!
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<br />When I think of Ashley's "space" it is not her bedroom. Ashley's space was outside! She loved to be outside. Ashley checked the weather each morning on the computer. She wanted to see if today she could play outside! She picked flowers, chased butterflies, caught frogs, climbed trees, played sports, imaginary games, built tents.....and so much more! When I want to feel close to Ashley, I usually go outside. The garden is a place where people can be outside...to visit, to study, to wait, to teach. A class period outside was always a highlight to Ashley's school day!
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<br />The part of the garden that most represents Ashley is what it is meant to do. The garden is a gathering place. A place to sit, relax, enjoy others, and the outdoors! I will never forget the times we were "all together" as a family...it didn't matter what we were doing, just that we were together. I can still hear her say "look, Mom, we are all together!" It was right up her alley to have family gatherings, birthday parties, picnics, social events....whatever! as long as everyone was all together!
<br />Ashley worked hard to be sure that everyone got along! She knew the interests of each person she was with and orchestrated the situation to makes each person fit in. She didn't like anyone to feel left out. She wanted everyone to get along. What a blessing it has been for us to watch people gather in Ashley's garden. She would love this. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibgDj_CSNvKGG2zqZv7o9brvhr1qd9FFiHRcZ5i2q9dC4mlDfezpeEF0_ID64krKNUeeGPo8Vuyf9nB_sXSza8bOXQ4NKlwiZgen-Q6cXg9VRnO9S2NZFacJcUu6MpODqoQE-MdmCPaIjj/s1600/015.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibgDj_CSNvKGG2zqZv7o9brvhr1qd9FFiHRcZ5i2q9dC4mlDfezpeEF0_ID64krKNUeeGPo8Vuyf9nB_sXSza8bOXQ4NKlwiZgen-Q6cXg9VRnO9S2NZFacJcUu6MpODqoQE-MdmCPaIjj/s320/015.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645537727982429122" /></a>
<br />It is a secret garden, a place to gather together, a place to visit....we dreamed big as Ashley always did....we gifted it to the school because Ashley loved to give, and it holds the hand prints of the friends who touched her life, and it will remain forever as a lasting impression of our sweet Ashley.Wendyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02562980233947814045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6626910427046220008.post-27839198770885698352011-08-11T09:48:00.002-04:002011-08-11T09:51:58.733-04:00My ShoesAnother grieving mother friend of mine shared this poem with me. It is such a perfect description of the life I live.
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<br />I am wearing a pair of shoes. They are ugly shoes. Uncomfortable shoes. I hate my shoes. Each day I wear them, and each day I wish I had another pair. Some days my shoes hurt so bad that I do not think I can take another step..... Yet, I continue to wear them. I get funny looks wearing these shoes. They are looks of sympathy. I can tell in others eyes that they are glad they are my shoes and not theirs. They never talk about my shoes. To learn how awful my shoes are might make them uncomfortable. To truly understand these shoes you must walk in them. But, once you put them on, you can never take them off. I now realize that I am not the only one who wears these shoes. There are many pairs in this world. Some women are like me and ache daily as they try to walk in them. Some have learned how to walk in them so that they don't hurt quite so much. Some have worn the shoes so long that days will go by before they think about how much they hurt. No woman deserves to wear these shoes. Yet, because of these shoes I am a stronger woman. These shoes have given me the strength to face anything. They have made me who I am... I will forever walk in the shoes of a woman who has lost a child.Wendyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02562980233947814045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6626910427046220008.post-39395065337069431192011-08-10T11:30:00.006-04:002011-08-10T12:24:51.023-04:00No Wonder they sing!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd1oWAb-XKQ7dE08PcW-LdLc8dYsnQWmxvcP2EJdsAQxp_fSTSIUJ7i3-2IB3k8pifumQF7sl_hDMufKc-6mcbk5FNutivkdVex0Gr7tXribNEMiCxYjftHC0fz03kn9LwWn6VXRQaEsdG/s1600/047.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd1oWAb-XKQ7dE08PcW-LdLc8dYsnQWmxvcP2EJdsAQxp_fSTSIUJ7i3-2IB3k8pifumQF7sl_hDMufKc-6mcbk5FNutivkdVex0Gr7tXribNEMiCxYjftHC0fz03kn9LwWn6VXRQaEsdG/s320/047.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639263859429432754" /></a>
<br />I am writing about the Locust again! This morning I spent several hours watching a locust emerge from it's hole in the ground, make it's way up the tree, and then wrestle itself out of it's old, mud covered shell. I stood amazed at this very small yet complex piece of God's creation. It's amazing to me that God took the time to teach the locust how to shed it's shell. While I have always taken note of the locust, this year I am drawn to them. God must be using them to teach me a very important lesson!
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<br />Today I noticed that all of the little holes in the ground around the tree are indeed the resting places of locusts! I am guessing that they are the larva that are hatching from last year. Regardless of how they got in the ground, I am intrigued by the fact that they begin in the ground, a dark hole in the dirt. They work their way out slowly, barely able to move in their mud covered shell.
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<br />I believe they must be so restless inside to the point that the pressure causes the shell to open a hole large enough to climb out of. It took several hours for the locust to slowly pull each leg, it's head, and abdomen from the shell. I watched as it would make one small move then rest for a period of time before moving again. The process was long and painful. I wanted to help it. Maybe if I would pull it out. Maybe if I would break the hole open a little bigger. I resisted the urge to help, knowing that my efforts would only hurt the end result.
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<br />The locust emerged a bright green color. It had shriveled up wings, and a soft outer shell. I imagined it must have felt so good to be free from the confines of that mud covered shell. The locust carefully stretched, taking time to gain strength along the way. The wings began to unfold. They were fully stretched, but still weak bending in half as they were unable to resist the gentle breeze. The locust climbed up the trunk of the tree slowly as it gained the strength to move on. It left the empty shell behind. Hours later, the newly hatched locust remains resting on the tree, drying it's wings, gaining strength to begin anew. Soon it will be strong enough to take flight, and to sing the music of the summer days. After watching the locust's journey, it's no wonder they sing!
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<br />God wants me to take note of this. I have taken the time to admire his work in the little places of His creation. He is making all things new. He is making me a new creation. The process is long, and painful, and often doesn't go as quickly as I would like. But, He is making me new...and I will sing. Wendyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02562980233947814045noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6626910427046220008.post-87942325418711345982011-07-26T16:42:00.006-04:002011-07-26T17:30:24.595-04:00I wanna crawl out of my shell<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijc4WW5T5T-OB-Z7WQiQH7AMzUS1jEtLO-nra0ue960etVABUEija0l7IQushbgZFshjXnHhsaQz6P0rWLZS9_kKVONem2DIfXfQ94w-uGEpDEmbFhF1Zi4dMTUCG_CzzIJqBmnAXD7qVr/s1600/030.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijc4WW5T5T-OB-Z7WQiQH7AMzUS1jEtLO-nra0ue960etVABUEija0l7IQushbgZFshjXnHhsaQz6P0rWLZS9_kKVONem2DIfXfQ94w-uGEpDEmbFhF1Zi4dMTUCG_CzzIJqBmnAXD7qVr/s320/030.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5633764706305790466" /></a><br />So I woke up this morning thinking all was well. Another day. As the minutes passed me by, and the kids began to wake up. I quickly realized that "all" was not well for me today. I could not pin point why. Everything bothered me ever so slightly. Just enough to make me cringe inside. <br />I was looking for a specific picture of Ashley for something. As I scrolled through photos, the kids began to hover around. They love to look at the pictures of Ashley. What they don't realize is how it makes them feel inside. They suddenly become agitated with each other. Every one began to function in their own little worlds, which seem to clash with each other. I felt suffocated, out of control, and helpless. I felt overstimulated by the normal everyday things all around me. I was getting more and more restless inside. I felt like I could jump out of my skin! Giving in to my children begging me to spend time with them outside, I stood by the swing set pushing them back and forth. <br /><br />Being that it is the middle of summer now, the locusts are out and about during the day. Their singing has always been a comfort to me in the summer. Just the same as lightening bugs on a summer evening, the smell of the rain on the hot blacktop, the tree frogs and bull frogs singing through the night....all of these things that prove summer is all around. This is the time of the year when the locusts shed their shell. They cover themselves in mud and then climb out of their old "shell" leaving it behind for my kids to find as summer treasures! It is all the more of a treasure when they find one that is alive! Today, as we were swinging we found a locust sitting next to it's old shell. It must have just made it's way out. I was amazed to compare the size of it's body to the tight shell it left behind. Was it restless inside? Did it feel as though the shell was too small for what was inside? Did it feel good to get out of it? The locust probably sat there and rested, feeling freedom from the constraint of the old shell.<br /><br />I was jealous. Today I wished I could crawl out of my skin. I wished I could have a break from the constricting shell around me. I felt thankful for the locust, that it had the chance to feel refreshed. I imagine it gained new energy to fly and to sing. The day will come for me to shed my earthly shell. I don't know how long till then. I know that I will be made new. I long for the day. <br /><br />Not every day is like this. I am thankful for that. Days like this I just pick myself up and push through the day. I will be thankful to put the day away, and I am thankful that tomorrow is a new day. I have had some good times today. It's not all bad, it's just the feeling of needing to burst out of my skin. It's there with me whatever I do. There isn't really a solution for fixing it. That is what is so frustrating! <br /><br />The quiet few hours provided by a friend, allowing me to sit and write. That has been nice. The work that God gave me to accomplish today, helped to pass the time. As I was running an errand this morning, I turned the music up as loud as it could go. It seemed as though it couldn't be loud enough to match the scream inside my soul. I was thankful to feel the band aid it placed on my heart. God has provided for me today. He is making me as comfortable as He can. It doesn't take me out of my skin, but at least it holds me tight.Wendyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02562980233947814045noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6626910427046220008.post-43805932118284150572011-07-14T09:32:00.004-04:002011-07-14T10:47:17.485-04:00Lesser ThingsThe other night a storm rolled in as I was putting the kids to bed. I tried to minimize the threat of the thunder. I tried to hide their eyes from the intense lightening that lit up the dark sky. The day had been long for me. I desperately wanted to give in to the under current of grief that was trying to pull me in throughout the day. I looked forward to putting them to bed so I could find rest for my soul. <br /><br />I became aware that the storm was not just thunder. It was potentially bigger than that. A Tornado may develop with these conditions. Upon hearing this the kids panicked. I desired to hush them and make them sleep. It was getting late. They were unsettled. One of them asked me to pray for them. As I gathered them up I prayed for God's protection over us. I asked God to take away the storm. I asked him to keep us safe. One of my kids was still scared. The other one said, "it's OK. We prayed about it. God will take care of us. He won't let anything happen to us." <br /><br />I sat there and agreed. I assured them that we would be OK. God will take care of us. We don't have to be afraid because He is with us always. As I lay in bed with one of my children, I wrestled with God in my head. "I prayed these things to my children. I assured them that you will keep us safe, but I don't know if I believe it! I would be lying to them if I told them that nothing bad will happen. Bad things have happened. Their sister died. Why wouldn't more bad things happen? I can't tell them that they won't. I know you are able to stop bad things from happening, but I know that you don't always. God, I know what I am praying for. I know that the kind of protection that I am praying over them is not the kind that they are asking for."<br /><br />That night, my children needed to be assured that they would be OK. They needed me to pray with them. As I prayed, I knew that the promises of God that I was calling upon, were not just for physical protection. I knew I could not guarantee that. I was praying, knowing that God would be with us. I Know He promised us that. He will walk with us wherever we go. He will not leave us comfortless. I can't testify that bad things won't happen. They do happen! I can testify that God has been with me. Even in my darkest moments, even when I can't see Him, or feel his presence. Even when things continue to work against me. I know He is there. <br /><br />After the kids fell asleep and the storm passed, I asked God to show my children the kind of faith He wants them to have. The kind of faith that follows even when we are unsure. Even when we doubt. I asked God to reveal these things to my children in their time. I couldn't tell them these things. These things they must learn on their own. I can live by faith in front of them and pray that they will be faithful.<br /><br />The next day I had some time to myself. I decided to listen to music in the car as I drove. I usually choose silence in the car, since silence is hard to come by most days. As I listened one of my favorite songs played. A song by Laura Story, "Blessings" Please take some time to listen to it. <br /><br /><br />Lyrics:<br />We pray for blessings<br />We pray for peace<br />Comfort for family, protection while we sleep<br />We pray for healing, for prosperity<br />We pray for Your mighty hand to ease our suffering<br />All the while, You hear each spoken need<br />Yet love is way too much to give us lesser things<br /><br />'Cause what if your blessings come through raindrops<br />What if Your healing comes through tears<br />What if a thousand sleepless nights are what it takes to know You're near<br />What if trials of this life are Your mercies in disguise<br /><br />We pray for wisdom<br />Your voice to hear<br />We cry in anger when we cannot feel You near<br />We doubt your goodness, we doubt your love<br />As if every promise from Your Word is not enough<br />All the while, You hear each desperate plea<br />And long we'd have faith to believe<br /><br />'Cause what if your blessings come through raindrops<br />What if Your healing comes through tears<br />What if a thousand sleepless nights are what it takes to know You're near<br />What if trials of this life are Your mercies in disguise<br /><br />When friends betray us<br />When darkness seems to win<br />We know that pain reminds this heart<br />That this is not our home<br />It's not our home<br /><br />'Cause what if your blessings come through raindrops<br />What if Your healing comes through tears<br />What if a thousand sleepless nights are what it takes to know You're near<br />What if trials of this life are Your mercies in disguise<br />What if my greatest disappointments<br />Or the aching of this life<br />Is the revealing of a greater thirst this world can't satisfy<br />What if trials of this life<br />The rain, the storms, the hardest nights<br />Are your mercies in disguise<br /><br /><br /><a href="www.youtube.com/watch?v=1CSVqHcdhXQhttp://"></a><iframe width="425" height="344" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/1CSVqHcdhXQ?fs=1" frameborder="0" allowFullScreen=""></iframe>Wendyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02562980233947814045noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6626910427046220008.post-58089835152502481072011-06-08T21:59:00.004-04:002011-06-08T22:37:43.492-04:00Expensive InvestmentsA few weeks ago I had the opportunity to meet up with an old friend of mine. It was the first time I had seen her since I heard of her son's death. My eyes met hers and I felt that "empty tunnel" connecting us. She held her newborn baby as we talked. The baby was born only one day before her son died. I could go on about her story, but I need to talk about something else that happened that day. As the two of us talked, we understood each other. I heard her say things that I could hear myself saying almost 2 years ago. The more I listened, the more I wanted. It was as if I had been in a foreign land, and finally found someone I knew! As we talked, I connected myself to her pain. I wished I could spend more time with her.<br /><br />After leaving her I began to realize what it cost me to connect to her in such a way. For the first time since Ashley died, I had experienced someone else's pain through my own. The two were connected. The weight pressed down on me so hard. The pain was immense. I was reliving my own sorrow through hers. It became heavier. I begged God "Why?" Why do mom's like us have to bear this kind of sorrow? I was angry! Nothing could help it. I got a message from a friend, who has a son in heaven. She had been there for me when it was my turn. She had come to me that first night, and I can remember when our eyes met, I felt that tunnel of emptiness between our eyes. I remembered. She entered my pain through her own. It was expensive, but she wanted to make the investment, no matter the cost. <br /><br />Lately, I have watched other friends do the same thing. They uncover their own pain from deep down, as they invest in anther's hurt. It then takes a long period of healing, as they must work through their life's battles. <br /><br />The great expense of investment is worth it. God comforts us in our trials so that we can comfort others in their trials....with the comfort that we have received from God! (2Corinthians 2:1) He intended for us to invest in one another's pain. He wants us to experience His comfort so that we can share it. <br /><br />I was so thankful for the opportunity to invest. The cost was quite expensive, but I am not finished investing. I want to give more. How is it that I can spend so much, recover, and then go spend more? Am I crazy? No! I am blessed. No matter the cost. My friend who invested in me was not looking for a receipt for the amount she spent when she entered my pain. No, she went home, she cried for me and for herself, and she begged God "Why!" on our behalf. I realized the day that I met up with my friend, entered her grief through my own, came home and hurt deeply...that God had given me a gift. He showed me the receipt from my other friend, and I loved her for it! It gave me encouragement to keep investing!Wendyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02562980233947814045noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6626910427046220008.post-31502926782549531282011-05-28T20:29:00.005-04:002011-05-29T07:07:52.518-04:00Strawberry Picking<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEiSAZAQsZnJbp_YRRmdfTI-TZSbU0vjS2AQwXkVk9n17ISQFQF_LJE_EonSwWB43U_vf8wv0dTeB3Nc8ceaDC91tcBOh1VCPd9Q-Z-SVZaz8P7luqG9CZwIUbG2ihAwlCAzUCn97YKUd0/s1600/strawberry+day+002.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEiSAZAQsZnJbp_YRRmdfTI-TZSbU0vjS2AQwXkVk9n17ISQFQF_LJE_EonSwWB43U_vf8wv0dTeB3Nc8ceaDC91tcBOh1VCPd9Q-Z-SVZaz8P7luqG9CZwIUbG2ihAwlCAzUCn97YKUd0/s320/strawberry+day+002.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5612092323016994818" /></a><br />"Berry picking with Mama was a delicious time. Just this once, I'll gather more than I eat, thought Suzie Mae. Quick as a wink, she placed each plump strawberry into her bucket. Caw..caw. A crow swooped down and perched on the fence, giving Susie Mae a suspicious look. "Don't worry, old bird," she whispered. "I can pick and not snitch." Mama began to hum, moving swiftly between the rows. Joining in the song, Susie Mae picked the sun-ripened berries. The singing and the sunshine made her stomach rumble. She could almost taste the juicy red strawberries with homemade ice cream. One or two won't hurt, thought Susie Mae..." (from "Just Like Mama" by Beverly Lewis)<br /><br />This page in the book ran through my mind today as I went to pick strawberries with my kids. Our second year without Ashley. It still hurts, it always will. It seemed as though I went through all of the motions. I even had a good time picking and watching my kids pick. I got home, sat down to hull the berries, and realized what I just did. again. without Ashley. I missed her deeply as I sat at the table with 20 lbs of berries to put away. I could see Ashley sitting across from me. She would insist on helping. We would work together in the kitchen as we turned the berries into sauce and jam. I remembered her getting mad if I hulled too fast...not leaving enough for her to do. She was beginning to work me out of a job. <br />Each year, Ashley would insist on picking more strawberries. She didn't want to risk running out of sauce for homemade waffles! <br /><br />I kept on asking myself why I am doing this. How am I doing this? What did I just do? Is this for real. Jake reminded me that we have to keep living. We can't stop life. Even though I often wish I could, I know he is right. Hopefully one day the memories that come along with every day will cause more joy and less pain. I am amazed at how sometimes what hurts the most are the little things in life. I felt as though I had to hold myself up, and remind myself to breathe this afternoon. I had finished the berries and felt the cost in the end. <br /><br />I took some time to read the book, "Just Like Mama" to Emma this afternoon. Ashley loved that book. We read it often. Ashley always wanted to be like me. She reminded me of "Susie Mae" always trying to do the things her Mama did...following in her footsteps. I taught Ashley to do so many things..but most of all, I taught her to love Jesus and to serve Him daily. She is loving Him and serving Him today. <br /><br />A song came to my heart today as I drove home. "Be strong in the Lord, and be of good courage, Your defender is He, who is always the same. Mount up with wings as an eagle ascending. Victory is yours when you call on his name. Be strong. Be strong. Be strong in the Lord, and rejoice for the victory is yours." I Imagined that Ashley was singing it to me, encouraging me to press on, keeping my eyes fixed on God.Wendyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02562980233947814045noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6626910427046220008.post-3777087966629626922011-05-15T14:55:00.008-04:002011-06-18T22:31:16.854-04:00Reflections about my FathersGreat Grandpop. He lived to be 101 years exactly. What a privilege to have known him into my 30's. He taught me how to love the sound of laughter. His laugh was hilarious and contagious! I loved to say things just to hear him laugh. He laughed hard when us great grand children would say the few silly things that we knew how to say in Pennsylvania dutch. More seriously, he taught me about wisdom, strength, and silence. He taught me something about listening more and speaking less...something that I probably won't really learn until I am older.<br /><br />PopPop. He taught me about serving others and certainly proved that you can never know too many people. PopPop can't go anywhere without knowing someone. He has taught me kindness and gentleness toward others. He has always taught me through his actions, to remember others. He often set time aside to do special things with us kids. I remember evening bike rides, walks, games,fishing, rides in the back of the pick-up truck, and the special "me and Pop Pop" trip to the Phillie's game! PopPop also taught me how to address my Father in heaven. I crave to hear his Sunday dinner prayers. "Our kind and heavenly Father....use this food.. there of to bring glory and honor to You." These words will never leave my heart. In some of my darkest moments, the echo's of his prayers have comforted me. <br /><br />Grandpa. Although he did not live close by, he taught me so many things through what he taught my Dad. Grandpa taught me about being a good steward of what God has given to me. My Dad would often say...."Grandpa always said that it doesn't matter how much or how little you had, you must take good care of it because it is what God has entrusted into your care." Grandpa also taught me about working hard. He raised my dad on a farm, teaching him the value of hard work....being a steward of our time. In turn, Dad taught me about working hard. Grandpa also taught me to enjoy music. What a blessing it is to sit around his table as a family and hear four part harmony as we sang our favorite hymns before prayer. <br /><br />My Dad. He is truly one of my best friends. I love to chat with him, and to spend time together. He taught me to enjoy nature. Growing up,we spent lots of time traveling with our camper. Dad taught me to enjoy the beauty of God's creation. He taught me how to work and how to play. Dad taught me how to provide sacrificially. Dad spent many hours away from home as he has driven a truck for most of my life. Although he would have liked to be home, he desired to be the best provider for our family as he could be. I have learned to give up things that I desire in order to give my children what they need. <br />Although I am still learning this one, Dad has taught me about patience. He patiently waited as I learned to do things..anywhere from riding a bike to driving my car, and he patiently guided me as I sorted through my spiritual life as a teenager. Dad taught me how to relate to others and to enjoy the company of others. Dad always reminds me to examine my ways before the Lord. He continues to guide me to be a godly woman. <br /><br />My father in law. I have been his "daughter" for 18 years now. He has taught me about gennerosity toward others and about giving. He has also shown me about forgiveness...over and over and over again. I love to listen to my kids giggle as he tells them bedtime stories when he comes to visit. He taught my husband how to work hard, and equipped him with the ability to do just about anything! And, now I am blessed to see them use those talents together as they serve in Haiti. <br /><br />My husband. The father of my four beautiful children. One of the first things I loved about him when I met him was the way he loved children. "He is going to be an awesome daddy someday!" That was one quality that was at the top of my list! I have always loved to watch him with little kids. What a blessing it has been to watch him love and play with our children over the past 13 years. He has proven to be more than an awesome father, not only to our children, but to others. I love to watch him father the children in Haiti. They come running to him and can't wait to be with him. He doesn't push them away. He loves them too. <br />He is strong, confident, and works hard to provide for his family. He teaches his children to love and fear God, not only through words, but through his example. He has bravely done what most fathers never have to do in their lifetime. He is showing us how to walk in faith each day. Even in great weakness, he has picked himself up, and walked forward. He teaches me so much about who God is...how God loves his children, how God provides, how He forgives. He is showing us how to walk in faith each day. God has given me the best father for my children!<br /><br />God has blessed me with generations of wonderful fathers. I am so thankful for each one of them, and for the things they have taught me, and continue to teach me.Wendyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02562980233947814045noreply@blogger.com0