Psalm 44:25~Our Soul Is Bowed

Nine-year-old Joshua, guarding first base

Good morning, dear readers,

Since my last post, it has been a hectic week of traveling, working in the veggie garden and general work on my goat farm, but now I'm back at my desk. :)

The verse below recently caught my attention, because of what happened within two hours after Joshua died by suicide. The devotion today is not in my book, but is a good example of what I include in the book.


For our soul is bowed down to the dust: our belly cleaveth unto the earth.

I glared at the emergency worker who stood a few feet between me and the hallway of my home.

I stretched my five foot frame to glare harder. "I need my shoes, and I won't leave this house without them."

"Ma'am, you can't go back there." Was the man protecting me? Don't bother, I thought, I held my dead son in that room. Then, I squinted my eyes at him, "I'm getting my shoes."

I stepped toward him, and his eyes grew big in his young face. I put my head down, ready to plow right through him. He stepped aside. I focused on my bedroom door and not on Joshua's room, for I had to pass his as I walked.

When I reached my room, I fell to the floor beside my bed. Sobbing, I curled into a ball and rocked. "Oh, God, oh, God, my son is dead, oh, God."

"Jean?" My sister-in-law. "Jean, we need to go."

Through my wet hands, cupped to my face, I said, "I can't."

She touched my shoulder. "Okay, I'll give you five more minutes."

After she left, her words echoed in my head. I'll give you five more minutes. I almost laughed. How many times had I said that to Joshua when he was a little boy? I pushed aside the fragmented moment of five more minutes, and wailed.

"Mommy." Jami, my daughter. "Please, Mommy, I'll take you to my house." She lifted me up under my arms. I didn't want to make it harder for her, so we found my shoes. Jami cradled her arm around me, and we walked outside to our waiting family.

Lord, God, my soul was bowed down to the dust. My belly cleaved unto the earth. Then, You allowed a lighter moment to come and go in a blink to give my being a bit of rest. In Jesus' name, I am grateful for Your love to reach my shattered heart. Amen.

Until next time . . . wade through God's restful moments.