Monday, December 28, 2009

Time Marches On

The other day, I watched crumbs of seed fall from the feeder and even though I saw no bird from my viewpoint, this spray of leftovers told me one feathered creature ate its fill. I nodded, knowing if I looked below a scattering of hulls would litter the ground.

The next morning, I stood at my picture window and smiled at the beauty of snow birds eating from the feeder. Suddenly, a flit of wings and a deep brown sparrow crept along the ground toward the feeder where it hung up high. But the sparrow didn't fly, even after the snow bird left. What it did was to eat the flakes that fell from the others' beaks.

Spiritually speaking, that sparrow is me.

Even before 2010 begins, I want to meet the Lord with whatever challenge he gives. No matter how difficult, I need to learn to count it all joy to suffer shame for his name (The Acts 5: 41b). For I am no longer satisfied to eat the leftovers of fear and dismay. I can fight off the flashbacks of our son's suicide with the spiritual armor God provides.

It's so simple how God can use snow birds and sparrows to bring me to this place.

There is something to a new year, as a new beginning. I'm "letting go" of things that hinder what God has planned for my life. I am even letting go of Joshua. Not the beautiful memories or the joy of having known him, but the wasted years. For how can a writer share their triumphs along with the sorrows, if too often all they remember is harsh and cruel and no hope.

If you've read my past posts, you'll remember the box that holds Joshua's journals. It still sits next to my writing desk, but I can imagine lifting off the lid and beginning the task of reading his words.

Now, I believe I can write Joshua's story with freedom. But, don't think for a moment I can one hundred percent of the time write it without tears (I say this to myself, not you). As time continues on, I will march and try my best to show what great things God has done.

Until next time . . .

Tuesday, December 8, 2009

The Holidays and Our Grief

Even though it's been over five years, the holidays are still hard, hard, hard. No doubt!

My husband and I slog our way through. Christmas without our son, Joshua, is brutal. If it weren't for our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ, we simply couldn't do this. I must admit, though, we don't decorate for Christmas anymore. We don't buy a tree. Our hearts are no longer into that aspect of it all.

We still give holiday gifts, but now they are home canned jellies, jams, and foods from our garden. I love giving gifts like that, and I start making them in August and finish up in November. No more holiday shopping for us. It's a relief, really. I can barely handle the ho ho ho's and the happy songs. All the decorations in the stores.

I pray harder and longer during November and December, to help us get through. I count my blessings more often, to maintain a decent attitude. I must admit we get angry still. Hurt from no more Joshua here on earth.

I read the scriptures of when Jesus cried, when he was troubled, and tempted, and I sense a strength that can only come from him. Just knowing Christ suffered everything and more of it than me, makes me know even if no one else understands how I feel, he does. He always will.

All those who loved Joshua and were the closest to him, I say, "We can get through this time of year." We will be saved. "With men this is impossible; but with God all things are possible." (Matthew 19:26)

Until next time, be on your knees in prayer and God will see you through.