Thursday, July 17, 2014

Psalm 85:11~Truth Shall Spring out of the Earth~The Cord, a poem

Our family in 1993 when Joshua was fifteen

The Palmist wrote:  

Truth shall spring out of the earth; and righteousness shall look down from heaven. Psalm 85:11

I've taken a sabbatical from Love Truth. The well of creativity drove me to finish my two books. They are now professionally edited. That means I had to work beside the editor to bring forth stories hopefully worthy for the eyes of readers. The one book is based on my Love Truth blog and my many posts here over the years.

That book's title is God's Mercies after Suicide: Blessings Woven through a Mother's Heart.

Now the book is making the rounds to agents and publishers, and if no one decides to take in on, I'll self- publish God's Mercies. I'm unsure of how long to give before I self-publish, but I'll know if and when the time comes. I'm thinking, though, of during the winter, because I have extra time available for bigger projects.

I chose the above verse, because my book is full of truth. It includes the truth of my account of what happened when Joshua died by suicide and how God blessed this mother through it, the Scriptures I used for each chapter, and the memories I included of my son. That truth sprung out of the earth--from Joshua's mother--and God our righteousness will bless this fruit. People will read this book, and it is my hope that they will be uplifted and drawn closer to our Lord.

I discovered this poem in my local chapter's newsletter of The Compassionate Friends:

The Cord
We are connected, my child and I,
By an invisible cord, not seen by the eye.

It's not like the cord that connects 'til birth.
This cord can't be seen by any on Earth.

This cord does its work right from the start.
It binds us together attached to my heart. 

I know that it's there though no one can see,
The invisible cord from my child to me.

The strength of this cord is hard to describe.
It can't be destroyed. It can't be denied.

It is stronger than any cord man could create.
It withstands the test, can hold any weight.

And though you are gone, though you're not here with me,
The cord is still there but no one can see.

It pulls at my heart, I'm bruised, I'm sore.
But this cord is my lifeline as never before.

I'm thankful that God connects us this way.
A mother and child, death can't take it away.

Author unknown, lifted from Portland Chapter TCF January-February 2014

Until next time . . . give someone your time when they weep from their losses

Wednesday, April 16, 2014

Proverbs~Quiet From Fear of Evil

Me and Dad at the only book signing of mine he was able to attend

Two months ago, my dad was put on Hospice. Dad died on April 5. His funeral was April 12. You may read Dad's obituary.

I miss my dad.

Proverbs 1:33 says, "But whoso hearkeneth unto me shall dwell safely, and shall be quiet from fear of evil."

This verse has proven true over the last days after Dad passed away. I sense a quiet in my spirit. A quiet that proves I did my best to reach out to Dad and love him even though we saw life a bit differently. A quiet that also proved he did his best to love his stubborn first-born.

During the Hospice period, we talked about Jesus.

I sang to him the traditional Gaelic hymn "Morning Has Broken," by Eleanor Farjeon. You may listen to the hymn here by Cat Stevens. I then sang the song with my daughter Jami at Dad's funeral.

The next day after I sang that hymn to Dad, he asked for me.

The following day Dad died.

To give history of our relationship, Dad and I took care of our large family after my mother became ill when I was ten years old. Dad would get me up even before the sun rose, so I could get us breakfast and to the bus on time.

My dad was a fun daddy. He played the harmonica as we danced about in the living room. We rode on his back as he bucked about to us off. We always fell off playing Bucking Bronco.

The song "Daddy's Hands", by Holly Dunn, is a near perfect song about my dad.

I married young and left home. Dad wasn't too happy about that, and I believe he carried the hurt with him for the rest of his life. These last five years, living close to him since my marriage at age 17, has been a healing time for both of us.

I miss my dad.

When my sister called to say Dad was leaving us, we jumped in the car and drove the hour to his home. I missed his last breath by twenty minutes. That shook me. I wanted to be there when his spirit left and went to the great beyond. God had other plans, and so I accepted that.

Our large family of siblings gathered together that morning, streaming in one by one. We prayed together. Sang together. We anointed our dad's body with oil and said our goodbyes.

I have no regrets. I grieved with a passion as the coroners carried Dad from the house. I didn't want to take the grief home with me. You know what I mean. The inconsolable grief that tears at your heart until you feel as though you may faint.

I still miss my dad.

Both of my parents are gone now. Us children are the elders. How odd.

I pray each day before I rise that God will continue to hold my hand, as my dad once held mine. Seeing me through this time of grief and loss.

I love my dad and he loved me.

Until next time . . . maybe you, too, can make right relationships that need righting.

Thursday, February 13, 2014

Ecclesiastes 11:8~Let Him Rejoice

Jean playing with her goats

Dear Readers,

The Preacher says:

"So if a person lives many years, let him rejoice in them all; but let him remember that the days of darkness will be many. All that comes is vanity." Ecclesiastes 11:8 ESV

This verse speaks plainly of my outlook these past years. What is that you may ask? To count the many richest of blessings the Lord has given to me and my family, and to understand dark days will always come.

Of course it was hard to always look at the good those first four years after Joshua died by suicide. Even in my greatest sorrowing in the early grieving years, I worked at remembering my blessings. I understood that as a healthy response to an otherwise horrific challenge of losing my son.

Did I count my blessings that my son was gone. No. I did not. The mind, though, can only take on so much grief. We have to give ourselves a rest from the continuous weeping and grieving of the heart.

What I believe the Preacher means is we need to live in the realization that our days will be clothed in some darkness. We can still rejoice, though, that our life has a purpose and meaning within the protection of God our Father.

Let us remember the best of what God has given to us.

I'd like to suggest a song by Wayne Watson, "Such A Time As This." It fits with today's scripture.

Until next time . . . live for Lord God.