Sunday, November 21, 2010
A heart grown weary,
A soul shattered by loss.
How can it be, that I still live,
And yet my son does not.
As mother Mary, "kept these things,"
I pondered in my own heart.
Did Mary know her Son would die?
As surely, I did not.
for her Savior Son.
And I, for mine,
We have a mother's heart.
By Jean Ann Williams
Inspired by Luke 1:19, "But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart."
The poem above is rough (I'm not a poet), but it says much about how Mary's situation kept me going after Joshua died by suicide. When all I wanted was to be with Joshua, I would think of Mary. I'd read every scripture written about her. I would nod. "I believe, Mary, I know how you must have felt."
In Joshua's journals, he mentioned more than once what a burden he was to us with his physical disability. He wrote about how he wanted the best for his parents. I'd rather have my son be my cross to bear, than like now.
I wish, oh, how I wish, he would have understood how we felt. Did we give mixed signals? Did the times I was worn down with caring for him show that much?
I thank God with all my heart that Joshua left us his journals. He cleared up several issues for which we felt guilty. We thought some of the decisions we made had pushed him to his death.
They did not.
Joshua even wrote, "I don't know what will happen to me when my parents are gone."
Before his death I pondered much in my heart, watching Joshua deteriorate. I ponder still. What would life be like if Joshua had lived?
I'll leave you with a scripture. Psalm 19:14 "Let the words of my mouth, and the mediation of my heart, be acceptable in thy sight, O Lord, my strength, and my redeemer."
Until next time, pray.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Life's Pathway by Fern Ackerman
There is no easy path to take,
When traveling down life's road.
We try to choose the right one,
To have the easy load.
But trouble over takes us,
As we trod along the way.
Heartaches, trials, and crosses,
Seem to come and somehow stay.
However dark the night may seem,
However deep the pain.
Pour out your heart to Him in Prayer,
He will help you to sustain.
I love this poem by Fern Ackerman, because it speaks of how people think and how much God loves us.
Have you ever considered the words, "Help me, Lord," are more powerful than any flowery prose we can say? Sometimes, I am so distraught, all I can say is, "Help!"
Last week Satan attacked me with a punch that dropped me to the ground. I cried. I prayed with many words. I ranted. But I got nowhere until I said out loud to God, "Help me, please!"
He came running, and a warmth of love enveloped my entire being. I thought, "Oh, God, my God how great is thy name." Afterward, I read in his Word all my favorite scriptures.
I said in an earlier post November is a harsh month, because Joshua would have been 32. I must keep on my full spiritual armor and grieve God's way. That may mean sorrow that overwhelms to the point I'm on my knees to him. Over and over again.
"I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me." Philippians 4:13
Until next time . . . read the word and pray. God bless you dear readers.