Eulogy

We shuffle in quiet, greet each other with soft, sorrowful smiles and and ease gently onto the creaking pews.

A close-knit family with lives scattered by miles and circumstance drawn together by a common wound, a shared love.

Today we bury our Grandmom, Mother, Sister, Friend.

There are only a few (besides our army of family) to show for this quiet, well-lived life.

We have been so blessed, the few who knew her.

Our friend, our pastor, speaks full Truth words into the empty, questioning spaces. A reminder of what we know, of Who we know. Then we listen as the music swells and watch snap shots of a beautiful girl grown into wife, mother, grandmother, great-grandmother begin to ebb and flow on the screens.

I have to look away. I focus on my one year old as tears sting and fill the rims of my eyes, throat aches, nose swells to an instant red. I attempt to swallow the dryness out of my mouth.

I know that I am the first of the grandkids to speak after the slideshow. There had been so much joy thinking through my memories, and collecting those from others, to share with the those who have come alongside to comfort, with those who share our loss. I had wanted to share, these stories need to be told! Now, the grief presses into me stronger and deeper and I wonder if I can whisper what I have prepared.

I look up at the ceiling to keep a tear from spilling and breaking the dam that's barely holding back the smashing waves. I know she is with You, I am so glad she is with You, Jesus.

The slideshow ends and I find myself rising, then walking to stand in front of the flower showered casket. My cousin and older brother, both 28, born only two days apart, stand with me. We are the first to speak our love for our Grandmom, to try to express how well she served, and loved, and cooked, and lead by example.

I tremble and stumble over emotions but I somehow speak most of the words I wanted to say. My cousin and brother do too. Then two of my sisters join and one tries to speak through the tears but can't, big brother reads her lovely written words.

We tell specific stories of how she was kind to us at all times. How she was never too rushed for us, too busy, too bothered. Not even when all twelve of us grandkids ran, and roared, and laughed and talked her ear off. How she remembered what was important to us, and made sure we knew we were important to her. The birthday cakes she made and the imagination she encouraged, even crawling under the quilt-covered table to play in the make-shift "fort" with flashlights and grins.

We tell of her unfading beauty, her gentle and quiet spirit. Her faithfulness to my Grandpa, her deep love for her children.

I say it in the beginning and think the whole way through " I know she heard 'well done' when she saw Jesus..."

Then we all stand together, all twelve grandchildren in a row, not such children anymore. The youngest a tall eleven years old. We all love the Lord our God, a trickle down effect from her heart to our parents, to us. The beneficiaries of the promised love that Love Himself is faithful to show to a thousand generations of those who love Him and keep His commandments. We are but a brief, tiny glimpse of her spiritual heritage, legacy.

We stand and my cousin shares what His mom, my sweet Aunt, has thought and said and finds great joy and comfort in:

"Those who lead many to righteousness will shine like the stars forever!"

The service continues and completes and we talk, and hug, and cry, and laugh and remind each other of Who she is with, and how great her gain is.

And I think of this for days now, something my Dad has often said, that was proven and lived out this past Friday at her funeral.

"My perspective on situations and relationships really changed when I stopped viewing others as a part of my life, and started asking myself 'what part of their life am I'?"

What do I do in this life that really makes a difference in this world? What will my loved ones say about me when I'm gone? What part of their lives am I?

I pray my eulogy is full of my love for Him, and for them. Jesus said:

“As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Now remain in my love. If you obey my commands, you will remain in my love, just as I have obeyed my Father’s commands and remain in his love. I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete. My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends. You are my friends if you do what I command. I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master’s business. Instead, I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you. You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit—fruit that will last. Then the Father will give you whatever you ask in my name. This is my command: Love each other."

~John 15:9-17

Counting thanks today, praising Him for how well I am loved...

#97 Grandmom who lead by example

#98 food brought by church family, not a small task for a household of 10!

#99 music

#100 donations made to our local Pregnancy Center in memory of my sweet Grandmom

#101 having so many good memories that we had to pick and choose which to share

#102 That Grandmom's children, my Dad and Aunt, have Comfort and Hope and Joy because they KNOW their mom is with Jesus

#103 that He has prepared a place for me, and will come back and take me to be with Him

#104 that knowing Him is eternal life

#105 that He cares that I know Him, wants me, pursues me, draws me close

#106 that He gives this knowing of Himself, this eternal life, freely because He loves so deeply... staggering grace!

What Fills Up the Empty

There is a desert place where emotions barely stir in dry, stagnant emptiness.

This howling wasteland was found on the other side of the high mountain places of my heart where storms rage freely, pouring out deep waters of expression, agony, joy and relief.

This is a stilled place, still enough to look around and recognize the empty. There is nothing as far as my eyes can see except for dust and ashes settling cold that make the space feel even more void and wanting.

Was this part of my soul always barren? Did these fearful questions I can't even whisper always swirl dry and aching just beyond the lush mountains?

He has lead me here, as he has before, to a place hot under my feet and painfully bright for my uncovered eyes, standing bare before the Son. Just me and Him.

Is my hope found in Him alone? Is He alone enough for me? Will I follow wherever He leads, trust whatever He decides? Do I trust Him with my children, husband, family? Do I believe that He is good, even when He allows pain, suffering, death?

It is not a fear of my own death, but rather a painfully fresh recognition of how much I have, and how much I could possibly lose.

I think about Audrey Caroline's story and my children, I think about how both my father's parents are now home with Christ, and that unless untimely death happens, he and my mom are in the next generation to leave this world.

I think about this too:

"Anyone who loves his father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; anyone who loves his son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me;"

~Matthew 10:37

I want to be worthy of Him. I want His perfect love to cast out this fear of loss, of emptiness.

I can not hold onto the people I want to cling to, naked I came into the world, and naked I will leave it. What good will worrying do? I know that worrying will not even add a single hour to anyone's life.

But still fear grips my throat. It aches in my gut. I wouldn't speak it out loud, but it's there.

I think about Job. What if I lost everything I hold dear in this life? Would I still love Him?

I think about other Bible stories. I know "righteousness" does not protect from horrible pain, suffering, death.

I think about Jesus.

I think about Jesus for a long time.

The One and Only who never sinned and yet suffered and died... why?

"When they hurled their insults at him, he did not retaliate; when he suffered, he made no threats. Instead, he entrusted himself to him who judges justly. He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, so that we might die to sins and live for righteousness; by his wounds you have been healed. For you were like sheep going astray, but now you have returned to the Shepherd and Overseer of your souls."

~1 Peter 2:23-25

He says healing me was worth it. He says my return to Him was worth it.

I look around, over my shoulder. There is no one in this empty but me. Me. He means me.

I take off my sandals on this holy ground. Kneel and raise my hands, stretching high and fingers spread wide.

Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were a present far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all...

In all this empty, there is nothing to interfere with the praise He is so worthy of.

The Lord who inhabits the praises of His people fills all my empty.

In Christ alone my hope is found
He is my light, my strength, my song
This Cornerstone, this solid ground
Firm through the fiercest drought and storm

What heights of love, what depths of peace
When fears are stilled, when strivings cease
My Comforter, my All in All
Here in the love of Christ I stand

In Christ alone, who took on flesh
Fullness of God in helpless Babe
This gift of love and righteousness
Scorned by the ones He came to save

'Til on that cross as Jesus died
The wrath of God was satisfied
For every sin on Him was laid
Here in the death of Christ I live

There in the ground His body lay,
Light of the world by darkness slain.
Then bursting forth in glorious Day,
Up from the grave He rose again.

And as He stands in victory
Sin's curse has lost its grip on me
For I am His and He is mine
Bought with the precious blood of Christ

No guilt in life, no fear in death
This is the power of Christ in me
From a life's first cry to final breath
Jesus commands my destiny

No power of hell, no scheme of man
Could ever pluck me from His hand
'Til He returns or calls me home
Here in the power of Christ I stand.

Counting thanks today for the fullness of His grace, goodness, and mercy...

#83 That the husband was given bereavement leave from work this week

#84 the whole family will be able to attend Grandmom's funeral

#85 that I have a dear friend who is covering work for me so I can have the entire day for family time

#86 we all have peace knowing she is with Him

#87 smiles and hugs from my children

#88 crazy cats that bring laughter, easing the ache in the air

#89 that He grants sleep as a gift of love

#90 25 years with Grandmom

#91 Being blessed to have her in our home in her last days, being able to sit and hold her hand

#92 Aunt Carmen

#93 Dad

#94 Mom

#95 Jesus

#96 the gift that praise and thanks is to me

Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good;

his love endures forever.

Let the redeemed of the LORD say this—

those he redeemed from the hand of the foe,

those he gathered from the lands,

from east and west, from north and south.

Some wandered in desert wastelands,

finding no way to a city where they could settle.

They were hungry and thirsty,

and their lives ebbed away.

Then they cried out to the LORD in their trouble,

and he delivered them from their distress...

He sent forth his word and healed them;

he rescued them from the grave.

Let them give thanks to the LORD for his unfailing love

and his wonderful deeds for men.

Let them sacrifice thank offerings

and tell of his works with songs of joy.

~from Psalm 107

Homesick

I was just a few hours into my workday, most of the bridesmaids makeup was done, hairstyling would be done after a quick lunch. I checked my phone to see the time, see if I was at good breaking point.

The text messages knocked me numb "I'm so sorry for your loss...".

Grandmom entered the presence of the Lord today.

I had heard her breathing before I left. I didn't know any details, and I knew if I called home and asked for them I wouldn't be able to keep myself from crying my way through the remaining 7 hours I had to work.

I took my lunch break, couldn't eat. Tried not to think about it. Went back to work.

I could finally cry when I got home. My five year old brought me tissues. "I'm sorry you're sad about great Maw-Maw..." she comforted with a hug.

I hugged Selah back. "I know this may be confusing, but I'm actually happy for great Maw-Maw, because she's in heaven with Jesus." Tears of relief fell hot and fast, her suffering was finally over. The fight with her final enemy was over. She had finished the race she had run so well, so long, she was so strong. She did not run aimlessly, and has received a crown that will last forever.

No more bed sores. No more pain. No more weak bones. No more hearing problems. No more frustrated spirit trapped in an old body.

These last few days I was able to sit and hold hands with her, read Psalms to her, sing over her.

I sang "Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so... Amazing Grace how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me... when we've been there ten thousand years, bright shining as the sun, we've no less days, to sing God's praise, then when we'd first begun... when I survey the wondrous cross, on which the Prince of glory died, my richest gain I count but loss, and pour contempt on all my pride... oh the wonderful cross, oh the wonderful cross, bids me come and die, and find that I, may truly live... may the Lord bless you and keep you, the Lord make His face shine upon you, and give you peace, and give you peace, and give you peace forever..."

I love my sweet Grandmom. We'll sing together someday. Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord God Almighty...

Last week was one of the last times we were able to communicate, before she became too weak to talk. Before I went to work I went in her room to tell her I loved her. I had leaned in close, looked into her beautiful blue eyes, " I've got to go to work Grandmom, but I'll see you when I get home, I love you!"

She had gently breathed out "love you, too."

I think the same thing now. She is home. Our citizenship is in heaven. Our righteous and faithful Most High God has said her time here is complete, and mine is not yet done. I am still a harvest worker. Here am I Lord, send me!

"I've got to go to work Grandmom... but I'll see you when I get home, I love you!"

Now we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, an eternal house in heaven, not built by human hands. Meanwhile we groan, longing to be clothed with our heavenly dwelling, because when we are clothed, we will not be found naked. For while we are in this tent, we groan and are burdened, because we do not wish to be unclothed but to be clothed with our heavenly dwelling, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life. Now it is God who has made us for this very purpose and has given us the Spirit as a deposit, guaranteeing what is to come.

Therefore we are always confident and know that as long as we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord. We live by faith, not by sight. We are confident, I say, and would prefer to be away from the body and at home with the Lord. So we make it our goal to please him, whether we are at home in the body or away from it.

2 Cor. 5:1-9

"Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me. In my Father's house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am."

John 14:1-3

"If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world."
— C.S. Lewis

The Cure for Grumpiness

It sneaks up on me. Grumpiness.

The day has been a productive one, I am peaceful.

Then it happens. A jabbing comment. An unexpected chore. An overly tired whining child.

My smile becomes tighter, my words shorter, and my spirit grumbles like dark approaching thunder. It builds after it begins, and these grumpy clouds overshadow my moments and it is harder to see clearly, to feel clearly.

I need The Light! A shelter from this storm of my desperately deceitful heart.

The name of the LORD is a strong tower, the righteous run to it and they are safe.

~Proverbs 18:10

He is the strong tower I run to, and I enter His courts with thanksgiving and praise. He is the One who inhabits the praises of His people.

He doesn't reject me because I don't feel thankful. He knows that I am thankful. The feelings will follow the faithful act of speaking truthful thanks to Him who deserves more than I could ever find words for.

And in choosing thankfulness over grumpiness I am overshadowed anew. He restores rest to my soul.

He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.

~Psalm 91: 1

Counting thanks, protected from these grumpy storm clouds... May You be enthroned here, my King!

#73 hospital bed at home that makes Grandmom more comfortable

#74 tooth brushes

#75 baby sleeping peacefully

#76 brother who thinks I'm beautiful, and writes it unashamedly, bringing me joy for days

#77 husband who loves to come home to me, hugs me without holding back

#78 Grace

#79 bed time

#80 the command to rest

#81 that His mercies are new every morning

#82 that it is His kindness that leads me to repentance

Where is Jesus in this Suffering?

Finally, both children were asleep. Peace on their faces. No more needs, wants, questions to force myself to focus on and answer.

It swelled within me until at last I kneeled next to Selah's bed, clinging to the sturdy frame built by her loving Daddy. Forehead on hands, I silently bawled my eyes out in prayer.

Prayer to be a better mother. Prayer to be a better wife, daughter, person... Prayer about things in life I can't control.

A rushing, raging stream of confession of my neediness of Him. A fresh realization of the utter fragility and mortality of this life, these bodies.

How can I redeem these days of suffering?

Something in my spirit couldn't bear the weight anymore. The weight of all the suffering in this house. The suffering of my sweet Grandmom who struggles even to drink. The suffering of her children and my mother doing all they can, feeling it isn't enough....

So much of it is silent. It is a raw silence.

I feel it, see it.

I have never lived with someone who was suffering like this... dying... before. I have always known death at a distance. Even though my Grandpa stayed with us much of time before he passed, it wasn't like this. The shadow of death holds a whole new meaning for me now.

Oh loving Father, ease this suffering that squeezes breath and smiles from this home.

I try to bring the Baby to say hello to Grandmom often. She loves seeing Alexa, one of her five great-grandbabies. Something about cute, chubby trouble that can't help but make you smile. But the smiles are mostly only mouth, not quite making it to her eyes.

My mom, her main care-taker, bears the most of it I think. She is always thinking, researching, trying new ways to ease Grandmom's pain. She often told me before(and after) labor with my children that she wished she could go through it rather than me. She said she would rather be the one in pain than seeing someone she loved suffer, that that was harder for her, not being able to alleviate the pain. As a woman who has had nine home-births, she doesn't underestimate the pain, she just loves so deeply she'd gladly be the one to bear it.

She reminds me of Jesus in that way. She has been reminding me of Jesus a lot lately.

The other day she was gently kneeling in front of Grandmom, patiently dressing her. She loves her, one of her own in the world, and she has been showing the full extent of her love. She was the hands of Jesus Who washes feet. And I saw Him there so strong in the midst of weakness. He whose feet she was washing. One of the precious sick, thirsty, hungry, helpless least of these. Jesus. In both, with both, Emmanuel.

It was a scene I'll not soon forget.

And in all this suffering, my blindness was crushed.

He is both the humble, willing Servant and the One served.

He is here, so very present in this suffering. The beautiful fragrance of His love overpowers the shadow of death. His strength sustains them both.

Sustains us all. All the time. He himself gives all men life and breath and everything else. Why do I regularly forget this and fall into narcissistic blindness?

This suffering crushes pride.

It crushes the walls around my expression of love for Grandmom, for other family members... for mom.

I really hugged mom for the first time in a long time last night. I didn't realize it had been so long until afterward.

It crushes all the facades of my questions, and exposes what is really in my heart.

It crushes unwillingness to ask for help.

It crushes half-hearted prayer.

It crushes so much that I am unaware of that is self-separation from Him.

But He never separates from us.

No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.

For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons,

neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth,

nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God

that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

~Romans 8:37-39

Therefore, since Christ suffered in his body, arm yourselves also with the same attitude, because he who has suffered in his body is done with sin. As a result, he does not live the rest of his earthly life for evil human desires, but rather for the will of God.

Humble yourselves, therefore, under God’s mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.

Be self-controlled and alert. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know that your brothers throughout the world are undergoing the same kind of sufferings.

And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast. To him be the power for ever and ever. Amen.

~1 Peter 4:1-2, 1 Peter 5:6-11

Selah

She holds the tiny baby wrapped in soft pink felt and asks to hear to the story again. How her story began.

How do I tell her I almost killed her?

How can I explain why I didn't?

I wrap my arms around her and pull her close. My five year old bundle of joy and life that almost wasn't.

I can't say I already had the appointment scheduled at the same place I had paid for her sibling to be aborted the year before.

I can't say I did drugs to try to make myself go through with it.

I can't say I tried to commit suicide and longed for my own death before ending the life of (another) baby growing inside me.

We snuggle and she wriggles with excitement. She stares, stares, stares at the baby doll in her palm.

"Well..." I breath in deep, those memories, those years. I feel the pain throbbing behind my scarred heart.

"But this is a joyful story" He whispers. I take His offered hand, we walk back to that dominion of darkness that He rescued me from together. His light keeps me from being overwhelmed.

She needs to know He alone can rescue. She needs to hear this story. He knew it would be her story.

She tries to wait patiently for the few moments it takes me begin. She grins from ear to ear and covers her hand with her mouth to try to hide her overflowing excitement. She is about to burst with joy.

I try not to burst into tears.

I smile into her glowing face "I love you so much!"

She wriggles closer, waiting. Hand over grin.

"Well... this baby doll reminds me of what God did in my life through you."

She can barely take it. I'm not talking fast enough for her. But my mind is rushing and my tongue is thick and slow and I have to take every thought captive and stay here and not go back there and remember that I am a new creation in Him.

Him.

My history is His story. Not mine. He is the Main Character. It is His Story Box.

I can continue now. "... Before I had you, I didn't love or follow God." My tender eyes meet her wide ones. Her face says: does mom really mean that? Could that be true?

"... I did a lot of really bad things. But Jesus still loved me. He loved me so much, He gave me you..."

I had begged God to show me His realness. To stop me from destroying myself and every good thing that came my way. To hold me. To love me. Selah is the first good thing that survived me in a long time. He answered my prayers, but in a way I did not expect.

O LORD, the king rejoices in your strength.

How great is his joy in the victories you give!

You have granted him the desire of his heart

and have not withheld the request of his lips.

Selah

You welcomed him with rich blessings

and placed a crown of pure gold on his head.

He asked you for life, and you gave it to him—

length of days, for ever and ever.

Psalm 21:1-4

She smiles unashamedly. She knows that of course she is a blessing. I have said it a thousand times.

"... God taught me all about love through you. He changed my life, and your Daddy's life, and lots of people in the family, and He helped save other peoples lives through you like Connor and Iliana..."

The names of my god-children bring a fresh wave of smiles. They are her dear friends. God saved them from a similar fate.

"...God has very, very special plans for you!"

She holds the baby. I hold mine, growing into a young woman, babyness long left behind. My arms overflow with His reward. We smile.

This is His story. He rescues. He redeems. He rewards. He loves. Oh, how He loves.

Praise the LORD, O my soul;

all my inmost being, praise his holy name.

Praise the LORD, O my soul,

and forget not all his benefits—

who forgives all your sins

and heals all your diseases,

who redeems your life from the pit

and crowns you with love and compassion,

who satisfies your desires with good things

so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s.

~Psalm 103:1-5

Counting thanks today... overwhelmed by Grace...

#58 Selah

#59 That He forgives all my sins

#60 That He heals all my diseases

#61 That He redeemed my life from the pit

#62 That He crowned me with love and compassion

#63 That He satisfies my desires with good things

#64 That He would reward me after all I've done

#65 That He never leaves me or forsakes me

#66 That He remembers that I am dust

#67 That He promises His righteousness not only to my children, but also to their children

#68 second chances

#69 That He can create a new person out of an old one

#70 He makes beautiful things out of the dust

#71 That one lost lamb is worth His time

#72 He brings me home

How to get from A to Z

Today I've been going through boxes that had long been tucked away in the attic. We will be ready to move to our new town home before too long and I am in the process of minimizing.

It's amazing how much can cling to you, I think things grow when I'm not looking.

And there I found them, sitting quietly in notebooks in the bottom of clear storage boxes. Some may call them poems. They were my screams. My nightmares. My loneliness from my highschool years. It hurts in places I didn't even know I still had.

Why do those memories still hurt after all this time? They hurt for different reasons now. I hurt for hurting Him. My family. For having such a bad memory and so little empathy for those who are in a similar place now.

Not being close to Christ is hell.

I have to take every thought captive to Christ, and leave them at His feet.

I read on and am amazed at what I thought about, wrote about... my immaturity. And my recognition of it, and my admitted unwillingness to change.

I turn page after page, a train wreck I can't look away from. Some things are worth remembering and keeping as a gentle reminder of things past, some hold no eternal value, would not benefit anyone in any way. I recycle a lot of it.

I definitely don't think the same way any more. He has transformed me by renewing my mind. Hallelujah, thank you Jesus.

It's like reading about a completely different person. But yet, this pain confirms that once upon a time that person was me.

How did I get from A to Z?

I read from 8 years ago. I was 17. I wonder...Was this from before or after the date rape situation?... The month and day aren't dated. I don't know. I don't know that it would make a difference... I was lost and messed up completely by my own doing, long before that night ever happened.

I had given it the title: Still Here.

Still Here

My sin blinds me of Your presence.

My heart turns from You.

You kneel with outstretched arms,

And I back away.

My spirit cries for our hearts to be one again,

But my flesh resists Your touch.

My pride breaks for an instant,

I weakly raise a hand

That so often dishonors

In an attempt to honor You.

Before I can withdraw my hand

You reach down

and entwine

Your fingers with mine.

Your essence showers kisses on my face.

Holding my hand you whisper

"I am still here."

I didn't turn back at that time. I didn't surrender myself to Him for another 3 years. I was afraid to get to know Him. I knew that meant real changes for me, and I didn't like His rules. I did not trust Who I did not know.

So how did I get from A to Z?

When all my other attempts failed, all doors slammed in my face, all paths proved to be dead ends... I trusted Him with B.

I let Him lead me for one step in the direction He said I needed to go.

That thing that He kept bringing to my mind, holding out His hand an asking me to give to Him... I finally did. I finally unclenched my fist.

With my hand open, He gently took mine, and lead me one more step to C.

One issue at a time. Always the question: would I trust that He knew best? That He wanted the best for me?

It was not a quick process. And it was painful. He is the God of true comfort, not of comfortable.

After tears, and prayers, and years, with His word etched into my mind, hidden in my heart and on the tip of my tongue I finally realized it. We were there. Z.

All of me belonged to all of Him.

Not in a perfect, pretty package with a bow all neatly tied. But given from a child to a Father who delighted in the best gift the child could give.

He knows I am not perfect. "Z" doesn't mean I have it all together.

"Z" means all of me willingly, gratefully belongs to Him.

A lot has changed. I pray and have great joy in the knowledge that He faithfully continues to change me. But something has remained consistent through all these years. He whispers it even now...

"I am still here."

The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases.

I remember my affliction and my wandering,

the bitterness and the gall.

I well remember them,

and my soul is downcast within me.

Yet this I call to mind

and therefore I have hope:

Because of the LORD's great love we are not consumed,

for his compassions never fail.

They are new every morning;

great is your faithfulness.

~Lamentations 3:19-23

He is Beautiful, That is Enough.

I feel like I've been walking around all day with a back pack full of bricks. I hurt. Many levels. Weighed down. Many questions, not a lot of answers.

I don't have a lot of words worth sharing today.

Even so, giving thanks today because He is beautiful in the midst of ugly...

#47 First day that felt like fall

#48 delighting in the discovery of different types of mushrooms in the backyard with Selah

#49 Baby wearing the outfit that was made by my Grandmom for my now 16 year-old sister, that making Grandmom smile

#50 learning to crochet

#51 little sisters that teach me how to be a better big one

#52 text love from friends

#53 that God doesn't remove me from the fire until the dross is drawn out

#54 He holds me so gently

#55 He restores my soul

#56 He is my light, my strength, my song

#57 He is a Word worth sharing... that He would grace me with Himself to share. To have. Wonder upon wonder.

I love you, O LORD, my strength.

If You are Being Really Hard on Yourself

Baby is growing up. She waves now when someone says "Hi!" or "bye-bye!". This always brings enthusiastic praise and clapping for her grand achievement. She grins her gap-toothed grin back at me and waves some more and I am filled with delight. We grin at each other and clap, clap, clap. It's some of the best time of my day, of my life. I will look at her and praise her and clap for her as long as she'll let me. She always tires of this before I do.

She is just being a child. My child. And it is a beautiful thing.

He wants to know why I ignore His clapping.

Oh LORD, I'm such a mess... I still have so much to learn, to do, to improve upon...

He says He takes great delight in me, He is singing over me filled with joy.

Not someday when I am dead and finally perfect because I am in heaven. NOW.

He is clapping, and grinning, and encouraging me NOW.

Will I look into His face and enjoy this moment with Him? He does not belittle my small achievements. "well done! Good job!" He claps, claps, claps, encouraging me to smile and clap back.

Will I believe Him that this a favorite part of His day? Will I keep it from Him?

I am just a child. His child. It is a beautiful thing.

I will look into His face and smile and clap praises back to Him.

Giving Thanks today that He loves me as I am, and always encourages me to get back up and try again...

#36 That He would ever take the time to sing to me

# 37 That He gives the Son, Emmanuel, I am never alone

#38 Micro expressions on a sweet baby face

#39 Sister love

#40 Curtain houses and the gift of imagination

#41 That He would stoop down to make me great

#42 The gift of work

#43 The gift of rest

#44 sunshine on my children's hair

#45 blue eyes

#46 That He loves me